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Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain,
and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him.
He began to teach them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you
and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me.
Rejoice and be glad,
for your reward will be great in heaven.”
The Gospel of the Lord.
***
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After Mass last weekend, I had a conversation with a family about colleges. Two of their children have applied and are now enduring the painful process of waiting.
As with most high schoolers, each has their fall back school, their stretch school, and their dream school.
The problem with dream schools is that they are often just that – dreams.
With a single digit acceptance rate, most students who apply to places like the Ivy Leagues -Havard, Princeton, or Yale – will never get in, even if they’re qualified on paper.
Each applicant is competing against another student athlete, another president of a senior class, another valedictorian, or another perfect score.
***
Getting into heaven – or being counted among the Saints – can feel similar, as if it’s just a dream.
Who among us is equal to Saint Paul?
Scholars estimate he traveled 10,000 miles on foot while preaching the Gospel. In the course of his travels, Paul was shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned, abandoned, and left for dead.
Shortly before his death, he wrote to his spiritual son, Timothy, using very athletic terms to describe his faith journey. “I have fought the good fight, I have competed well, I have run the race to the finish, I have kept the faith.”
Paul is a towering Saint. What hope can there be for us?
***
Well, there are Saints who lived more ordinary lives.
Some were cooks, farmers, maids, soldiers, or soccer players.
One of my favorites is André Besset, a Saint of the 20th century.
André was never ordained a priest; he was a religious brother who cut hair for a living, charging a nickel a visit. Four thousand haircuts later, he saved up enough money to build a small shrine to Saint Joseph in Montreal, Canada.
André then spent the final 33 years of his life standing at the front door, greeting and praying with pilgrims. Miraculously, he healed more than 10,000 people from physical and spiritual ailments.
After his death, his simple shrine was expanded into a sprawling basilica.
André Besset is a Saint.
***
Still, how many of us can compare ourselves to the likes of Paul or André? If their lives provide the criteria for being admitted into heaven – being shipwrecked, imprisoned, or performing thousands of miracles – then I, or maybe we, don’t stand a chance.
This, I think, is one of the unintended consequences of canonizing people as Saints. It creates an artificial barrier between holiness and ordinary life, as if we could never be them.
***
This is why I identify more with ordinary people of good will, men and women who have never been canonized as a Saint by the Church, and probably never will be. Yet God’s divine love was undoubtedly poured into their hearts with good measure, flowing over.
For example, this week I learned about a woman who lived in southern Mississippi. Her name was Oseola McCarty. Oseola never went to college; she barely had a sixth grade education.
She was never married. She never had children. She never owned a car. The home she lived in was given to her by her uncle. To get her groceries, Oseola walked a mile to the store with a push cart, even on muggy Mississippi mornings.
For 75 years, she made a living by washing people’s clothes. She’d scrub the darks on a washboard, boil the whites in a big black pot, then hang them up to dry.
In 1995, at the age of 87, she donated most of her life savings – $150,000 – to the University of Southern Mississippi, establishing a scholarship fund for underprivileged children.
She died four years later.
For her humility, her simplicity of life, and for opening doors for other people – doors which she herself would never walk through – Oseola McCarty is a saint.
***
Ultimately, Oseola is you. She is me.
She is any one of us who give quietly of ourselves for the good of others, like parents who routinely sacrifice for their children; people who care lovingly for an aging parent or spouse; or the student who sits with that kid at lunch who has no other friends.
Oseola represents all of the ordinary, often anonymous, saints whom John sees in our first reading from the Book of Revelation, dressed in white, raising their palm branches high, singing Hosanna as they enter the kingdom of God.
***
For many of us, college was the next – and necessary – step after high school. I personally never applied to my dream school, Oxford University. I felt I stood no chance of getting in; I didn’t have the scores, the resumé, the gifts.
But I knew what I could do – in fact, what we all can do – is strive for the kingdom of God.
Cut hair. Wash clothes. Open a door.
Live an ordinary life with extraordinary love and we, too, will be welcomed into the communion of saints.
May the Saints in heaven– Paul of Tarsus, André Besset of Montreal, and Oseola McCarty of Mississippi – pray for us.
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Image credits: (1) Benedictine Sisters of Mount Scholastica (2) Sermon on the Mount, Carl Bloch (3) National Catholic Reporter
