Living Like a Saint

For our Thursday piece this week, I wanted to share this extended extract from the Romanian Orthodox theologian Dumitru Staniloae. It expresses, in terms that I find quite beautiful, the possibilities inherent in being formed into the image of Christ--of becoming what Staniloae calls, in the words of his tradition, a saint. I keep this quote near at hand, because I hold onto the (admittedly unlikely) hope that someday God might, by his grace, grow me into such a person as this. It's a rather high ideal, but a lovely one.

"In the saint, there exists nothing that is trivial, nothing coarse, nothing base, nothing affected or fake, nothing insincere. In him is the culmination of delicacy, sensibility, transparency, purity, reverence, and attention before the mystery of his fellowmen […] The saint grasps the various conditions of the soul in others and avoids all that would upset them, although he does not avoid helping them overcome their weaknesses. He reads the least articulate need of others and fulfills it promptly, just as he reads their impurities also, however skillfully hidden, through the delicate power of his own purity, exercising upon them a purifying action. From the saint there continually radiates a spirit of self-giving and of sacrifice for the sake of all, with no concern for himself—a spirit that gives warmth to others and assures them that they are not alone. And yet there is no one more humble, more simple, less artificial, less theatrical or hypocritical, no one more natural in his behavior, accepting all that is truly human and creating an atmosphere that is pure and familiar. The saint has overcome any duality in himself […] He has overcome the struggle between soul and body, the divergence between good intentions and deeds that do not correspond to them, between deceptive appearance and hidden thoughts, between what claims to be the case and what is the case. He has become simple. Therefore, because he has surrendered himself entirely to God, that is why he can surrender himself entirely in communication with others. The saint always lends courage, and at times, through a humor marked by the same delicacy, he shrinks the delusions created by fears or pride or the passions. He smiles but does not laugh sarcastically, he is serious but not frightened, he finds value in the humblest persons, considering them to be great mysteries created by God and destined to eternal communion with him. Through humility the saint makes himself almost unobserved, but he appears when there is a need for consolation, for encouragement or help. For him no difficulty is insurmountable, because he believes firmly in the help of God, sought through prayer. He is the most human and humble of beings, yet at the same time of an appearance that is unusual and amazing, and gives rise in others to the sense of discovering in him, and in themselves too, what is truly human. He is a presence simultaneously most dear and, unintentionally, most impressive; the one who draws the most attention. For you he becomes the most intimate one of all, and the most understanding. You never feel more at ease than near him; yet at the same time he forces you into a corner and makes you see your moral inadequacies and failings. He overwhelms you with the simple greatness of his purity and with the warmth of his goodness and makes you ashamed of how far you have fallen away from what is truly human, of how far you have sunk in your impurity, artificiality, superficiality, and duplicity; for these appear in sharp relief in the comparisons you make unwillingly between yourself and him. He exercises no worldly power, he gives no harsh commands, but you feel in him an unyielding firmness in his convictions, his life, in the advice he gives. And so his opinion about what you should do, expressed by delicacy or a discreet look, becomes for you a command, and to fulfill that command, you find yourself capable of any effort or sacrifice. Whoever approaches a saint discovers in him the peak of goodness, purity, and spiritual power, covered over by the veil of humility. He is the illustration of the greatness and power of kenosis [Phil. 2:7]. From the saint there irradiates an imperturbable quiet or peace, and simultaneously a participation in the pain of others that reaches the point of tears. He is rooted in the loving and suffering stability of God’s incarnate Son Jesus, and rests in the eternity of the power and goodness of God."