Canonization is the Church’s official recognition that someone is a saint. It doesn’t make them holy, they already are. The Church is simply saying publicly what God has already done.
Think of it this way. When someone lives a life united to Christ, when they show us what holiness looks like in the flesh, when people pray at their grave and experience God’s grace through their intercession, that person is already a saint. Canonization is the Church catching up. It’s us acknowledging what’s already true.
We sometimes use the word “glorification” instead of canonization. Same thing. The term emphasizes that we’re glorifying God for what He’s accomplished in this person’s life. We’re not creating a saint through some ecclesiastical procedure. We’re recognizing one.
How It Actually Works
In the early Church, there wasn’t a formal process. Martyrs especially were recognized almost immediately by the local community. People would gather at their tombs on the anniversary of their death. They’d paint icons. They’d ask for prayers. The bishop would approve this veneration, and that was that. St. Polycarp of Smyrna, killed in 155 AD, was honored this way within days of his martyrdom.
Things got more structured over time, but Orthodoxy never developed the kind of centralized legal process you see in Roman Catholicism. We don’t have a Vatican office investigating miracles with the pope making the final call. Instead, each local Orthodox Church handles this through its Holy Synod, the gathering of bishops who govern that particular jurisdiction.
Here’s what typically happens now. People start venerating someone locally. Maybe it’s a monk known for his prayer life, or a grandmother who lived with extraordinary faith through persecution. Clergy notice. The faithful notice. Someone petitions the bishop. If there’s enough evidence of holiness, a committee investigates. They look at the person’s life, teachings, and whether there’s been consistent veneration. They compile a report.
The Holy Synod reviews it. If they approve, they commission new liturgical services for that saint, establish a feast day, bless the painting of icons, and hold a formal Rite of Glorification. This rite is beautiful. It starts with a final memorial service for the person, as if they were still just a departed Christian. Then, during Vespers and Matins, the Church begins singing the newly composed hymns to them as a saint. The icon is unveiled. The person’s name is added to the Church’s calendar. Other Orthodox Churches are notified.
St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco was glorified by ROCOR in 1994, then by the OCA in 2023. St. Raphael of Brooklyn, the first Orthodox bishop consecrated in North America, was glorified by the Antiochian Archdiocese in 2000. These weren’t ancient figures from some distant land. St. Raphael served parishes in the South, including Texas. He died in 1915 in Brooklyn. But the Church took time to formally recognize what many already knew.
What Makes Someone a Saint?
Orthodox baptism is the starting point. You can’t be recognized as an Orthodox saint if you weren’t Orthodox. Beyond that, the Church looks for a life that shows theosis, real union with God. Orthodoxy of faith matters. So does virtue lived out over time. Miracles can be a sign, but they’re not required. Neither are incorrupt relics, though those sometimes accompany sanctity.
What’s essential is that this person shows us Christ. They become an icon of what we’re all called to be. Their life preaches without words.
And here’s something that surprises people coming from Protestant backgrounds: there are countless saints the Church has never formally canonized. Your grandmother who prayed the Jesus Prayer every morning and fed half the neighborhood might be a saint. We just don’t know all their names. All Saints Sunday in June celebrates them, the unknown saints, the ones God knows even if we don’t.
Canonization isn’t about creating an exclusive club. It’s about holding up specific examples for all of us. When we venerate St. Mary of Egypt or St. Moses the Black or St. Maria of Paris, we’re saying, “Look. This is possible. This is what grace does.” We’re not worshiping them. We’re asking their prayers and letting their lives instruct ours.
If you’re curious about Orthodox saints, ask Fr. Michael about the life of St. Raphael. Or pick up a copy of The Synaxarion, which tells the stories of saints throughout the year. You’ll find prostitutes who became monastics, soldiers who became pacifists, wealthy people who gave everything away. You’ll find people who look nothing like the sanitized, impossible figures we sometimes imagine when we hear the word “saint.”
They were human. Broken, redeemed, and transfigured by grace. Just like we’re called to be.
