Last night, Catharina Senensis and I heard Mass at a local Toronto parish under the patronage of St. Vincent de Paul, whose feast day it was yesterday (in the new calendar, at least). This happy occasion, of course, conferred the posibility of us gaining a plenary indulgence, which quickened our feet towards the Mass and our thoughts towards devotion. The parish also, in a worthy practice of which I heartily approved, had a small social after the evening Mass, serving punch for children, sherry and port for adults, and cake for all. At this gathering Catharina S. and I had the good fortune of meeting the founding blogress of the League of Evil Traditionalists, membership in which Iosephus has been known to crave, and to enjoy her lively conversation over several glasses of the parish’s port.

Delightful as all of this was, my point in writing this is not merely to rejoice in a parish that honors its patron in so worthy a manner.But what actually occasioned this brief burst of prose was the homily preached at the Mass of St. Vincent de Paul, wherein the priest, among other worthy topics, gave an overview of St. Vincent’s biography. My purpose is not to reiterate that biography, but to say that it was clear that the priest took some care in giving a picture of St. Vincent as, not only the saint he was when he went to God, but also the sinner he was before God’s grace made him a saint. Not that St. Vincent was ever a very bad man, but he (for instance) in his seminary days forced a poor uncle of his to visit him through the back door of his residence, an act which subsequently haunted him. Learning this of St. Vincent, though, reminded me of the importance of presentation and balance in writing and telling hagiography, if it is to be of spiritual benefit to its readers. For though some saints’ lives are simply incomprehensible to us and worthy of wonder, but are too foreign to occasion real imitation, many are the saints whose lives are stories of God’s grace overcoming a nature as sinful and common as any of has. And whilee a desire to pull down the saints to our own sinfulness is really only a result of our pride, their victories over sin can best give us aid in our own battles with Satan if we can be shown the reality of the temptation and not just the glory of God’s grace well received. In this vein, I was listening to an old recording of Mother Angelica’s television show in the car a few days ago, wherein Mother made much the same point: that some lives of saints paint such a fixed and shiny picture of the saintly life that the sinful soul is driven down into despair; for indeed, her comments were occasioned by a caller who expressed just such a sentiment.

So let us always remember, as the holy ones themselves were ever wont to tell us: the sanctity of the saints proceeded from God alone; the work of their holiness was in permitting Him to work in their lives. So can it be for each of us, in our station in life. God alone can make our soul beautiful and pleasing; we must not judge His working, but trust in the majesty of His grace, turning ever to Him in trust and love, with a firm Faith that our sins have been washed in the blood of the cross and a sure Hope that we too can be saints if we but permit God to transform our lives.
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