Today the Church is full of light.
On the Solemnity of All Saints our eyes are turned to heaven – there, where an innumerable multitude in white robes stands before the throne of God. It is a day when earth and heaven are closer to one another. It is a day when we remember those who have allowed God’s light to pierce their lives so that they have become a light for the whole world. And when we lift our gaze right here, in our Church, we see this truth with our own eyes.
Around us shine the saints’ stained-glass windows – Risti Teresa Benedicta, Saint Dominicus, Saint Kasimir, the holy brothers Methodios and Kyrillos, Saint Franciscus and many others. Each of them is different: from different ages, different nations, each with their own character and calling. But when light falls through their colored panes, they become one – one image of Christ’s light.Today the Church is full of light. On the Solemnity of All Saints our eyes are turned to heaven – there, where an innumerable multitude in white robes stands before the throne of God. It is a day when earth and heaven are closer to one another. It is a day when we remember those who have allowed God’s light to pierce their lives so that they have become a light for the whole world. And when we lift our gaze right here, in our Church, we see this truth with our own eyes. Around us shine the saints’ stained-glass windows – Risti Teresa Benedicta, Saint Dominicus, Saint Kasimir, the holy brothers Methodios and Kyrillos, Saint Franciscus and many others. Each of them is different: from different ages, different nations, each with their own character and calling. But when light falls through their colored panes, they become one – one image of Christ’s light.
When the Church is dim or it is night, the stained-glass windows seem mute and silent. Like now. But when the light begins to flow in, a miracle happens — they come alive. Colors, lines and faces awaken, and we perceive that their beauty does not come from the glass itself but from the light that passes through them. So it is with the saints. They were not perfect, but people who allowed the light — God’s grace and the Gospel — to penetrate their lives. This light gave meaning to both their joy and their suffering, to their strength and weakness.Jeesus proclaims in the Sermon on the Mount the eight Beatitudes — and when we read them, we notice something unexpected: those called blessed are not the strong and powerful, but those who mourn, who are merciful, who are pure in heart, peacemakers.
It is precisely where the world sees weakness that God sees holiness. Holiness is the courage to live love where it is not easy to do so. Sometimes we are tempted to think that holiness belongs only to monasteries and altars. But in fact the holy live beside us: a mother who forgives her child; a caregiver who has the strength to care; a young person who is not afraid to be faithful; an old person who prays quietly every day. They are those who let God’s light be reflected in their lives.Johannese kirjas seisab: „See, what great love the Father has given us: that we are called children of God, and that is what we are.” This means that holiness is not only a privilege of a few, but a vocation for everyone. Holiness is not a mountain peak reached by only a few – it is a light that can shine in every heart when a person lets God enter there.
Pope Benedictus XVI said: „Sometimes we think that holiness is a special state reserved only for a few chosen ones. In fact, becoming holy is the task of every Christian – indeed, the vocation of every person!” (Pope Benedictus XVI, Angelus on the Solemnity of All Saints, 1 November 2007) Stained glass is a good image of what it means to be holy: the glass itself does not emit light, but lets the light live within it. When light is absent, it remains empty; but when the light comes, it becomes something beautiful and alive. Saints are people who did not hide God’s light, but allowed it to pass through their lives – even through wounds and fractures.
When we look at our Church’s stained glass and the faces of the saints, we may ask: what do they teach us about holiness?
Saint Dominic was a preacher of the Gospel who wanted the truth to shine in the world. His life teaches that light needs the word – God’s word must pierce the darkness like a ray of sunlight through glass.
Saint Francis was a man of love who saw God’s beauty in every creature. He teaches that light does not need wealth or power – an open heart that lets the light dance within it is enough.
Saints Methodius and Cyril brought the Gospel to the north of Europe. They made the light speak in people’s own language so that God’s truth would not be distant. They teach that light must be shared – it does not belong to a single people.
Saint Casimir, prince of Poland–Lithuania, who chose the path of humility and purity, shows that youth too can be a bearer of light. His life was like a young, radiant shard of glass in a heavenly stained glass.
And Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Edith Stein – philosopher, Jew, Carmelite and martyr – is like a dark pane of glass through which the light becomes deeper. Her life shows that even in the shadow of suffering and death the light can shine more brightly than ever before.
All these saints are different, yet they let the light shine through. Looking at them we realize that our lives too can be part of that same stained glass. Saints were not born from great, holy moments but from everyday faithfulness. They allowed the light to come through their prayer, work, friendship and service. We too can do this — at home, at work, in the parish, at school. Every time we choose goodness instead of evil, forgiveness instead of revenge, peace instead of anxiety, light begins to move within us. And that light does not remain confined to us — it reflects, spreads, and transforms others. A single piece of glass illuminates nothing, but together with others it creates a whole that can make the entire Church warm and alive. We believe in the communion of saints — communio sanctorum. This means that all who belong to Christ are bound together: in heaven, in purgatory and on earth.
This is not merely an image, but a reality — an invisible yet real bond. When we pray here on earth, we do not do so alone. Those who are already in heaven pray with us too — the saints and our beloved departed, who await the vision of God face to face. And when we say in the Mass: ‘Therefore we praise your glory together with the angels and saints and sing to you all together a hymn of praise,’ this is not simply a poetic phrase — it is reality. Heaven and earth unite in one song.
This fellowship also means mutual care and intercession. We can pray to the saints and they pray for us. They are not passive spectators in heaven but living friends who help us remain on the path of light. When we are in difficulty, we can call on them for help:
• ‘Saint Franciscus, help me to be joyful and calm.’
• ‘Saint Dominicus, help me remain faithful to the truth.’
• ‘Saint Teresa Benedicta, help me see hope even in suffering.’
”The communion of saints is a visible network of God’s love that reaches across time and space. When we stand before the altar, an invisible multitude stands beside us – those whom God has already received, and those who are still on the way. That is why All Saints’ Day is a joyful feast. It reminds us that faith is not a solitary path, but a journey together with many friends – both the living and the departed.
For me the Solemnity of All Saints is the most joyful feast of the year. For the saints are not only distant heroes or images in stained glass – they are living witnesses who show us how to believe, to long for God, and to live with Him here and now. May this feast be a reminder and encouragement to all of us: let us not be afraid to long to become saints. God’s love calls us all, and every small step in faith, every good deed and every prayer can lead us toward His light.
Let us go forward encouraged, knowing that the saints are our models and friends who inspire us to live in God’s love every day.
Father Tomasz Materna
Homily on 1 November 2025, on the Solemnity of All Saints, at St. Peter and St. Paul’s Cathedral of Tallinn