Language Barriers

Language shapes the way we understand the world around us, and as a Catholic, I’ve noticed how certain words carry profound theological weight. Take the word saint, for example. In English, it’s incredibly specific—used almost exclusively to describe someone officially canonized by the Church. But in other languages, like Latin (sanctus) or Spanish (santo/santa), the word is far broader, encompassing not only holy people but also sacred objects, places, and ideas. That got me thinking: does this narrower use of saint in English subtly shape how we view holiness? Could it even limit Catholic growth in English-speaking cultures?

This thought came to me while listening to Scott Hahn’s audiobook Angels and Saints. If you’ve never listened to it, I highly recommend it. Hahn does a masterful job exploring the Church’s teaching on saints and angels, making their lives feel real and relevant. As I absorbed his reflections, I began to wonder if English speakers unintentionally put sainthood on a pedestal, seeing it as something reserved for spiritual giants rather than something every baptized person is called to. That narrower linguistic framework, I realized, might be part of the problem.

In English, when we say “saint,” we’re almost always referring to someone officially canonized by the Church—those extraordinary men and women whose heroic virtue and miraculous intercession have been rigorously examined. While this specificity is beautiful and honors the Church’s discernment process, it can also create a sense of distance. If sainthood feels like something only a spiritual elite can achieve, what does that say to the rest of us? For many, it might feel like sainthood is out of reach—a lofty goal for someone else, not something they’re personally called to.

“Be a saint” -St Josemaria Escriva 

Contrast that with other languages like Spanish. In Spanish, the word santo isn’t just reserved for canonized saints; it’s also used for anything holy. A sacred object might be santo. A holy moment could be described as santo. This broader use reflects a more integrated view of holiness, one that includes not just the saints in heaven but also the faithful on earth striving to live in God’s grace. It aligns beautifully with the Church’s teaching that we are all called to holiness—something Vatican II emphasized in Lumen Gentium. That call feels natural and accessible in cultures where the language reinforces the idea that sanctity isn’t just for a few but for everyone.

But in English-speaking cultures, that message can sometimes get lost. The specificity of saint might unintentionally make holiness feel institutional—something bestowed by the Church on a select few, rather than a shared vocation for all the baptized. I’ve often wondered if this perception discourages people from seeing themselves as part of the communion of saints. After all, the communion of saints isn’t just the canonized; it’s all of us, living and dead, united in Christ.

This linguistic gap might even create challenges for evangelization. In many Protestant traditions, the term saint is used broadly to refer to all Christians, as St. Paul does in his letters. When Catholics emphasize canonized saints, it can feel foreign—or even hierarchical—to those outside the Church. Without proper explanation, this misunderstanding can create unnecessary barriers for people exploring the Catholic faith.

Still, I don’t think this linguistic limitation is a roadblock we can’t overcome. In fact, it’s an opportunity. The Church can reclaim the universal call to holiness by emphasizing that sainthood isn’t an elite club—it’s something we’re all called to. Every baptized person is invited to grow in holiness, no matter how ordinary their life might seem. One of the things I love most about the Church is how it highlights saints who lived relatable lives. St. Thérèse of Lisieux found sanctity in her “little way,” embracing simplicity and love. Blessed Carlo Acutis, a modern teenager, inspires young people to see technology as a tool for evangelization. These saints remind us that holiness isn’t out of reach; it’s lived in the small, faithful moments of everyday life.

At the same time, the specificity of saint in English can be reframed as a strength. It underscores the seriousness with which the Church recognizes lives of heroic virtue, showing the world that holiness is real and achievable. In a secularized culture, where role models are often fleeting, the canonized saints offer enduring examples of faith, courage, and love. By pairing this depth with a broader catechesis on the communion of saints, the Church can inspire English-speaking Catholics to embrace their identity as “holy ones”—not just as admirers of saints but as participants in the same journey toward God.

Ultimately, the word saint doesn’t have to limit us. It can be a doorway to something greater. Holiness isn’t just for a select few; it’s the destiny of all who follow Christ. If we, as English-speaking Catholics, can communicate this truth effectively, then the term saint will no longer feel distant or exclusive. Instead, it will inspire us to see ourselves as part of a living communion, striving for holiness in unity with those who have gone before us.