“Called to be Saints”
At first hearing, Saint Paul’s greeting to the Corinthians can sound almost routine: a formal opening to a letter written long ago to a community very different from our own. And yet, nestled quietly in those opening lines is a phrase of extraordinary depth and challenge. Paul addresses the Church as those who are “called to be holy,” or more literally, called to take their place among the saints.
This is not a compliment offered to a spiritual elite, nor a reward given at the end of a perfect life. It is a calling—an identity spoken over ordinary people living in real places, with real struggles, and very real imperfections. Paul knows the Corinthians well enough to know that they are divided, immature in faith, and far from flawless. Still, he names them saints—not because of what they have achieved, but because of who has claimed them.
This calling echoes through all of today’s readings.
In Isaiah, Israel is described as a servant called from the womb, formed not for private holiness, but for a mission that stretches beyond its own borders: “I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” Holiness here is not withdrawal; it is vocation. To belong to God is to be sent by God, often in ways that feel far larger than our own strength or confidence.
The psalm gives voice to how that calling is lived. The psalmist does not speak of grand accomplishments, but of listening: “You have given me an open ear.” Holiness begins not with heroic action, but with attentiveness—learning to recognize God’s voice in the quiet, in the waiting, in the slow unfolding of daily life. This is a holiness shaped by trust and perseverance rather than by spectacle.
The Gospel brings us to John the Baptist, standing at the edge of the Jordan, pointing away from himself. His entire vocation is summed up in a single gesture: “Behold, the Lamb of God.” John understands his place among the saints not as self-importance, but as faithful witness. He knows who he is by knowing who he is not. His holiness lies in making space for Christ to be seen and known.
Holiness is rarely loud or dramatic. It is found in endurance, in faithfulness through long winters, in communities that know one another’s stories and burdens. It is found in elders who carry wisdom shaped by the land, in families who support one another through isolation and loss, in people who keep showing up for one another even when resources are scarce and recognition is absent.
To be “called to take our place among the saints” does not mean trying to imitate someone else’s version of holiness. It means allowing God to sanctify the life we are already living—the work of caring for family, protecting community, listening deeply, and standing with one another in both joy and hardship. It means trusting that God’s light reaches the ends of the earth
Paul’s greeting also reminds us that this calling is shared. We are not called as isolated individuals, but as a people. Saints are not solitary figures carved from stone; they are a communion—men and women learning, often slowly and imperfectly, how to belong to God and to one another
Our task, like Isaiah’s servant, like the psalmist, like John the Baptist, is simply to live into that calling with humility, attentiveness, and trust.
Mackenzie-Fort Smith 