Honoring the Artist by Honoring His Art (All Saints Day!)

Have you ever walked through someone's home and noticed a beautiful piece of artwork tucked away in a corner, gathering dust behind a door or hidden in a hallway no one uses? Perhaps you've even been guilty of this yourself—receiving a thoughtful, handcrafted gift from a friend, only to store it away in a closet, forgotten among boxes of Christmas decorations and old photo albums. There's something almost tragic about it, isn't it? Not just because beauty is being wasted, but because somewhere, an artist poured their heart and skill into creating something meant to be seen, appreciated, and cherished.

Imagine for a moment that you somehow acquired an authentic Rembrandt—perhaps "The Return of the Prodigal Son" with its luminous portrayal of mercy, or one of his penetrating self-portraits that seems to peer into your very soul. Now imagine taking that masterpiece, worth millions not just in monetary value but in cultural and artistic significance, and carelessly propping it against the wall in your garage, letting it collect cobwebs between the lawnmower and old paint cans. The very thought is almost sacrilegious. Why? Because we instinctively understand that to dishonor great art is to dishonor the artist himself. The painting is not merely canvas and pigment—it is Rembrandt's vision made tangible, his genius given form, his very soul expressed in brushstrokes.

But consider the opposite scenario. You hang that Rembrandt in the most prominent place in your home, where natural light can illuminate its rich colors. You find yourself pausing before it each morning, discovering new details—the play of light on fabric, the emotion captured in a glance, the story told through composition. When guests arrive, you eagerly guide them to stand before it. You speak not just of the painting but of Rembrandt himself—his innovative techniques, his profound understanding of human nature, his ability to capture both shadow and light in ways that speak to the human condition. In doing so, you're not merely appreciating paint on canvas; you're honoring the master who created it. Your admiration for the work becomes a testimony to the artist's magnificence.

 

The Divine Masterpiece

This earthly analogy opens for us a profound spiritual truth, one that the Church has understood from its earliest days and that we celebrate particularly on All Saints Day. We—all of us who bear the name of Christ—are God's artwork. The Apostle Paul makes this breathtakingly clear in his letter to the Ephesians: "For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them" (Ephesians 2:10, ESV). The Greek word Paul uses here is poiema, from which we derive our English word "poem."

We are God's poetry, His masterpiece, His creative expression in the world.

But if we are all God's artwork, the saints who have completed their course on earth—those men and women who have exhibited extraordinary faith throughout history—are like His most celebrated pieces, the ones that most clearly reveal the Artist's skill and intention. They are the spiritual Rembrandts, the Michelangelos, the Van Goghs of God's creative work in humanity. When we honor them, when we tell their stories, when we marvel at the faith they exhibited and the love they showed, we are ultimately honoring the Divine Artist who crafted such beautiful souls.

The Psalmist understood this deeply. In Psalm 145:4-7, we read:

"One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts. On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate. They shall speak of the might of your awesome deeds, and I will declare your greatness. They shall pour forth the fame of your abundant goodness and shall sing aloud of your righteousness." (ESV)

Notice the pattern here: God's works are commended, His mighty acts declared, His wondrous works meditated upon. But what are God's greatest works if not the transformation of human souls? What mighty acts surpass the conversion of a sinner into a saint? When we speak of Saint Augustine's journey from hedonism to holiness, are we not declaring God's mighty acts? When we meditate on Saint Francis's radical embrace of poverty and creation, are we not contemplating God's wondrous works? When we tell the story of Saint Maximilian Kolbe offering his life in place of another man in Auschwitz, are we not speaking of God's awesome deeds?

This is what some traditions call the "veneration" of saints, though the word often causes confusion and concern. To venerate is simply to regard with great respect, to honor. It is not worship (and must never become worship)—that belongs to God alone. Rather, it is precisely what the Psalmist describes: telling of the mighty acts of God from one generation to another, acts made manifest in the lives of His people.

The earliest Christians were clear on this distinction. Following the martyrdom of Saint Polycarp (d. c. 155 AD), his followers carefully explained their reverence, stating, "For Him, as being the Son of God, we worship; but the martyrs, as disciples and imitators of the Lord, we love fittingly for their unsurpassable affection to their own King and Master" (Martyrdom of Polycarp, 17.3). The martyr's sacrifice was a pure, visible demonstration of love for Christ, making their life worthy of remembrance.

As Saint Ignatius of Antioch (d. c. 108 AD) wrote while being led to execution: "I would rather die and so hasten to Jesus Christ than reign over the whole earth... I seek him who died for us; I desire him who rose again for our benefit. This is the gain that is reserved for me" (Letter to the Romans, 5.3). The martyr's end was a living poiema, a beautiful work of fidelity that brought glory not to the victim, but to the Victor.

Today, believe it or not, there are more martyrs for the faith than at any time in history. Even more than during the First Century of Christendom. Do we honor their sacrifice, do we celebrate their bold and courageous witness? When we do, we aren't giving those men and women glory, we're glorifying God who preserved them in faith during persecution, and we find inspiration from their example. What God has done for them, we pray, He will do for us. For we, too, are His workmanship. We are His poetry.

 

The Cloud of Witnesses and Our Calling

The Letter to the Hebrews provides us with an even more dynamic image of this reality. After rehearsing a litany of Old Testament heroes of faith—Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Rahab, and many others—the author presents us with this stunning vision: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1, ESV).

The Greek word for "witnesses" here is martyron, from which we get our word "martyr." It refers to all who have borne witness to God's truth and grace. And notice—they are not passive memories from the past. They surround us like spectators in an ancient stadium, actively watching, cheering us on in our own race of faith. The life of faith is a shared race, and the saints who have finished run beside us in spirit.

Saint Cyprian (d. 258 AD), facing persecution, affirmed this vital communion: "Let us remember one another in concord and unanimity. Let us on both sides [of death] always pray for one another. . . that if one of us, by the swiftness of divine condescension, shall go hence first, our love may continue in the presence of the Lord, and our prayers for our brethren and sisters not cease in the presence of the Father’s mercy" (Letters, 56.5). The saints, having achieved glory, actively continue the Christian work of love and prayer. They are our heavenly cheerleaders.

This understanding transforms how we view both the saints who have gone before us and our own calling. If we are all God's workmanship, His poiema, then each of us is called to be a unique expression of His creative love in the world. The accountant who practices integrity in a world of financial manipulation is God's artwork. The parent who patiently loves a difficult child is God's masterpiece in progress. The teenager who stands up for the marginalized at school is God's poetry being written in real-time. We might not be called to bear witness by literally giving our lives, but we nonetheless give our lives as witnesses when we demonstrate His love boldly in our daily lives and callings.

 

Living as God's Visible Artwork

But here's where the rubber meets the road: How do we live this out practically in our daily lives?

1. Recognize and Celebrate God's Artistry in Others. When you see faith, hope, and love exhibited in someone's life—whether they're canonized saints or the quiet heroes in your own community—take time to acknowledge it. Tell their stories. Share with your children how Mrs. Johnson from church visited the sick for forty years, or how your grandfather kept his faith through the Depression. This isn't hero worship; it's recognizing and honoring the Divine Artist's work.

2. Allow Ourselves to be God's Visible Artwork. Too often, we hide our faith like that painting stuffed in a closet. We compartmentalize our spiritual lives, keeping them separate from our work, our relationships, our public personas. But God didn't create His masterpieces to be hidden. As Jesus said, "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house" (Matthew 5:14-15, ESV).

3. Draw Strength and Inspiration from the Communion of Saints. Knowing that we are surrounded by this great cloud of witnesses can transform our struggles. When facing temptation, remember that others have faced it and overcome thought God's grace. When suffering seems unbearable, recall those who endured with grace. When faith seems impossible, look to those who believed against all odds. Their stories are not meant to make us feel inferior but to show us what is possible when we cooperate with and embrace God's grace in our lives.

4. See Our Own Growth in Holiness as an Act of Worship. Every act of love, every choice for virtue, every moment of faith is a brushstroke in the masterpiece God is creating. Saint Irenaeus wrote in the second century, "The glory of God is man fully alive" (Against Heresies, 4.20.7). When we become who God created us to be, when we allow His grace to transform us, we glorify Him in the most profound way possible.

Conclusion: Our All Saints Day Mandate

This All Saints Day, as we reflect on the stunning beauty of God’s work in the lives of the saints, let us resolve not merely to admire the masterpieces, but to allow the Divine Artist to complete His work in us. To truly honor the Master, we must become the visible, vibrant, and celebrated artwork He intended us to be. Let us step out of the dark corners and dusty closets of hidden faith, and allow the light of Christ to shine so brightly through our lives that everyone who sees us is compelled to praise the magnificent Sculptor who made us. Our holiness is nothing but a testament to His highest glory.

 

In Christ,

Judah