All Saints – 2026
Matthew 5:1-12
Marian Free
In the name of God in whom we live and breathe and have our being. Amen.
I was recently in Sydney for the Australian Academy of Liturgy Conference. The conference itself was held at the Mary McKillop Centre. As we approached the Chapel for Evening Prayer I noticed, large, raised tomb[1]. It took me a moment, but I realised, this being the Mary McKillop Centre, that the tomb must be that of Mary McKillop. I know very little about Mary McKillop beyond the fact that she is Australia’s first (and to date only) saint, but in that space which is dominated by the tomb, I found myself strangely moved. A sense of holiness pervaded the space as if the saint herself was present. As I have a healthy scepticism about saints, this was a strange and novel feeling, and I wondered if the same sense of holiness had emanated from Mary McKillop’s presence when she was still alive.
The history of naming saints is almost as old as the church itself. Very early on, Christians recognised some among their number as having a deeper connection with the divine, that they lived sacrificial lives more in accord with that of Jesus or that they had had the courage to face death for their faith. During their lives, those seeking prayer, healing or support in their faith journey were drawn to these holy people and after their death they were honoured as saints and remembered each year on the day of their death. As early as the fourth century many churches consolidated these memorials into a single day of remembrance and in 735 Pope Gregory III declared November 1 as All Saint’s Day in the Diocese of Rome. His successor, Pope Gregory IV extended the commemoration to the whole of the Western Church, and we have observed this date as All Saint’s Day ever since.
Over time, the practice of naming individuals as holy people or saints proliferated to the point that it became cumbersome. There was no official or centralised process for determining who was or was not a saint. Added to this was the fact that a number of practices had developed some of which could be considered superstitious. These included taking a handkerchief or article of clothing (worse a fingernail or lock of hair) from the deceased, in the belief that the holiness of the saint was transferred to these objects that they could on their own perform miracles[2]. Such articles were treasured and, at some point in history were preserved in churches where they were worshipped and prayed to. This practice extended to the bodies (or parts thereof) of saints which became a hotly contested item. The economic value attached to a town having a relic; being the home of a saint; or being their final resting place made saints into big business. A town or city with a relic would attract pilgrims looking for a miracle, thus creating a lucrative tourism industry.
Such was the competition for relics (and tourist dollars) that for example Catherine of Siena had her head removed from her corpse so that both Rome and Siena could benefit from her presence. Her head can be seen in Basiica of St Domenico in Siena and her body rests beneath the main altar in the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome. St Francis’ burial place in the Basilica of St Francis at Assisi remained a secret for centuries, so afraid were his contemporaries that others would come and steal it and profit from it.
These and other practices meant that during the Reformation many reformers – Lutherans and Anglicans included – eschewed the concept of canonising individuals. Anglicans retained the practice of honouring saints but considerably reduced the number included in what was an overcrowded calendar. The only person to have been canonised by the Anglicans since that time is King Charles 1. That said, we continue to acknowledge people of extraordinary lives of faith, people of great courage (including martyrs), those who work for social justice and peace and stand up for the oppressed, and those who break barriers to take the love of Christ to those who may not otherwise experience it. These however are often local and not memorialised by the whole Anglican Communion.
Australian examples of holy men and women include Mother Emma, the superior of the Society of the Sacred Advent, Eliza Darling, pioneer social reformer, James Kirby, pioneer of outback ministry and the Bush Church Aid Society and James Noble, pioneer Aboriginal deacon. In Australia we also recognise those (non-Anglican) who are recognised world-wides has having given their lives for the gospel these include Oscar Romero, the Ugandan martyrs, Martin Luther and Elizabeth of Hungary among others.
The Beatitudes have been associated with All Saints Day since Medieval times perhaps because their emphasis on the reversal of human values exemplifies the life of the truly holy. As O. Wesley Allen Jr notes, the Beatitudes are written, not as imperatives, but as statements of fact. “Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the meek, blessed are the merciful, blessed are the pure in heart, blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are those who are persecuted.” Those who are already poor, meek and pure represent the best of those who follow Christ. They are those who do not consider their own comfort, safety or even their own lives above the well-being of their fellow citizens. They are those who through prayer and meditation draw near to God, who through their lives model faith to us all.
They are blessed in the present, because of the promise of the future. They can ignore pain, poverty and suffering in the present because they know that the present is but a blink of an eye compared to the eternity that they will spend with God.
Choosing to lose our lives to gain our lives is never a loss, but always a gain. What we give up for the gospel we receive back a hundred times. We thank God for saints, known and unknown in every age, who, by their lives show us what it means to be truly blessed.
[1] https://www.marymackillopplace.org.au/visit/the-tomb-of-saint-mary-of-the-cross-mackillop/
[2] Possibly based on the healing of the woman with a haemorrhage who touched the hem of Jesus’ garment (Mark 5:28), or the account of Peter’s shadow having healing power (Acts 5:15).


