The Bible calls God’s people “saints.” That’s the short answer. But it means something richer than most folks around here expect.
When St. Paul writes to the Christians in Rome, he addresses his letter “to all those in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints” (Romans 1:7). He does the same thing writing to Corinth and Ephesus. He’s not writing to a handful of super-holy people with halos. He’s writing to regular Christians, people who argued, struggled, sinned, and tried again. The word “saint” in Greek is hagios, which means “holy one” or “set apart.” If you’re baptized into Christ, you’re set apart for God. You’re a saint in that sense.
But there’s more going on in Scripture than just that basic meaning.
The Whole Church, Living and Dead
The New Testament doesn’t treat death as a wall that separates Christians from each other. When the writer of Hebrews lists the faithful who came before, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Rahab, he doesn’t end with “and they’re all gone now.” He says we’re “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1). They’re still present, still part of the story. The Church is one Body, and that Body includes both the living and the departed. St. Paul hammers this home in 1 Corinthians 12: we’re members of one another in Christ. Death doesn’t undo that.
This is why we ask the saints to pray for us. Not because they’re gods or because we can’t pray directly to God. We do pray directly to God. But we also ask each other for prayers, and Scripture shows that pattern everywhere. Paul asks the Romans to “strive together with me in your prayers to God on my behalf” (Romans 15:30). He asks the Ephesians and Colossians for the same thing. If I can ask my neighbor at St. Michael to pray for my daughter’s surgery, why wouldn’t I ask St. Mary of Egypt or St. John Chrysostom? They’re alive in Christ, closer to God than I am, and still part of the same Body.
Some folks worry this isn’t biblical. But look at the Old Testament. Abraham intercedes for Sodom in Genesis 18. Moses stands between God and Israel again and again, pleading for mercy (Exodus 32). The righteous pray for others. That’s just what they do. And if Moses could intercede for Israel while he was alive, why would he stop once he’s with God?
Saints Recognized by the Church
Now, when we talk about “the saints” in church, we often mean something more specific. We mean people like St. Basil the Great or St. Mary Magdalene or St. Seraphim of Sarov, men and women whose lives showed such clear holiness that the Church recognizes them publicly. We keep their memory, celebrate their feast days, write their icons, and ask their prayers. This isn’t inventing something new. It’s recognizing what’s already true: these people are with God, and their lives point us toward Him.
The Church doesn’t make someone a saint. God does that. We just acknowledge it. When we “glorify” a saint (that’s the Orthodox word for what Catholics call canonization), we’re saying, “Look, the Holy Spirit has clearly worked in this person’s life. Let’s honor their memory and learn from their example.”
You’ll see this in Revelation, where the saints are before God’s throne, participating in worship (Revelation 5). The Bible shows heaven and earth joined in one great liturgy. That’s what happens every Sunday at St. Michael. We’re not just singing by ourselves. We’re joining the angels and the saints in worship that’s already happening.
What This Isn’t
This isn’t worship. We worship God alone, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. When we venerate the saints, we’re honoring them the way you’d honor your grandmother’s memory or respect a mentor. We’re asking their prayers the way you’d ask your mom to pray for you. It’s that straightforward.
And it’s not magic. The saints don’t have power on their own. They pray to God for us, and God hears their prayers because they’re united to Him in love.
If you grew up Baptist or Church of Christ around here, this might sound strange. You’re used to “saint” meaning any Christian, and you’re used to going straight to God in prayer. That’s fine. We go straight to God too. But we also recognize that God works through people, living and departed, and that the Church is bigger than what we see on Sunday morning. It includes your great-grandmother who died in the faith, St. Thekla, St. Nicholas, and every faithful Christian who’s ever lived.
The Bible doesn’t give us a systematic theology of the saints laid out in bullet points. But it shows us a Church that’s one Body across time, people who pray for each other, and faithful men and women who’ve gone before us and now stand before God. We’re part of that same story. When you come to St. Michael and hear us sing “O ye saints of the Lord, pray for us,” we’re just doing what Christians have always done: asking our brothers and sisters, the ones who’ve finished the race, to pray for us as we run ours.
