Canonization For Dummies Misha and I were talking last night about patron saints. (Yes, patron saints. I know, we're nerds.) Our conversation was inspired by an earlier conversation I'd had with Andrew where he'd asked me who the patron saint of Russia was. (Ironically enough, it was St. Andrew.) We started reviewing the biography of other saints. I, being a feminist and lapsed Catholic, was particularly fixated on the biographies of female saints. I was angered by what I saw (and indeed, what I've always known), but not surprised: the overwhelming majority of female saints (98% by my estimate) took lifelong vows of chastity. A not insignificant amount of those saints died defending that chastity, either because they were trying not to get raped (which is understandable), or just trying not to get married (which is just stupid). Others of them, to fight off marriage proposals, mutilated themselves and made themselves unattractive to men. Still others who were unfortunate enough to reach the altar "prayed to their guardian angels" to convert their husbands, which usually resulted in the marriage never being consummated. Come on, is sex really all that bad? Most of us regular human beings relish the thought of making love, and indeed, actively seek out people who will help make those thoughts realities. I suppose that in the eyes of the Catholic Church, that eliminates us from the saintly pool. That's not what angered me the most, however. I think what really inspired my ire was the realization that their chastity was the only noteworthy thing in their life. Their life was marked by their refusal to have sex. Some of them were no better than you or I as far as good deeds go. Others of them did not any mention of what they did while they were alive, simply the circumstances under which they died - they would rather die than have sex! Who cares what they did up till that point! This calls for a canonization! So, taking all of this into account, I asked Misha, "Do you think that if I lived an immoral life, stealing peoples' money and infants' candy, and beating up the elderly, but then dying young and attractive while in the process of resisting sexual advances, I could get canonized?" He seemed to think it was a distinct possibility. Of course, that alone wouldn't be sufficient. I would have to go out in a major, noteworthy way, with many witnesses who could prove that it happened, a la Kitty Genovese. Then I'd have to be wearing a crucifix or rosary on my person, and yell really loudly something like, "No! It's a sin!" or "You're going to go to hell!" to make sure that it was clear that I was defending my chastity as a good little Catholic girl. Of course, I suppose that I really don't have to die. I could always pray to God to make me unattractive, or take matters into my own hands and mutilate myself. I could pour acid on myself, like St. Rose did, or I could get smallpox, like St. Brigid did. Or, I could pour acid on my smallpox pox, thereby ensuring my extreme hideousness. And then, I could live a celibate life in a remote grotto after my horrible self-mutilation in the name of the man upstairs. Then again, I'm rather self-conscious about my looks, and already consider myself rather plain. I definitely have my reservations about pouring acid on myself or exposing myself to smallpox, and those reservations have little to do with vanity. So, I could always get married. I mean, I have a boyfriend already. And we could, I suppose, live a celibate life together, just like Sts. Anne and Joachim. Of course, I've already slept with him, so this presents a problem. Ah, yes! He doesn't have to tell anyone what we have done. When he testifies at my canonization hearing, he can tell whoever the Pope will be then that we lived purely and celibately. As for all of you that we've told? He can hire a suicidal hitman to ensure that no one who knows can disprove the claim to my chastity. The hitman will kill everyone who knows about what went on between the two of us, and then proceed to kill himself. Five hundred can keep a secret, if four hundred ninety nine of them are dead. And then there is the little matter of the three miracles. I'll worry about that after I die, but I suppose that for my first miracle, I can turn vitamin pills into amphetamines. So yah, in about a century, look for St. Bevy, patron saint of celibate living, acid, smallpox, and amphetamines. back to thoughts home