We Can Become Stained Glass Saints

I was sitting in line for confession one Saturday when I noticed how my downcast eyes darted repeatedly to a stained-glass window overhead. The church was cold, and no lights illuminated the space, but the Saturday sun which streamed through the stained-glass windows cast fractured light down upon the white altar and the dark pews, bringing warmth and light. The paned window my eyes were affixed upon, portrayed Jesus Christ, clothed in a tunic the color of fresh blood with a golden garment draped over his shoulders. He held a shepherd’s crook in his left hand and a darling baby sheep in his right hand. To either side the herd of sheep walked with their eyes affixed on him. He was barefoot, eyes cast downward at the sheep while the sun on the horizon set or rose (I couldn't quite tell) behind him. The stained-glass window was objectively beautiful because its symmetry and complicated detailing pointed to a greater story–one we have all heard in John 10:1-18. 

If the panes on that window had not been shaded, it would not be as objectively beautiful – it would merely allow clear light in. It would brightly light the space, casting light on the altar and pews, but it would not convey or add a story of beauty through its coloring. In reflection on this idea, I began to ponder why stained glass has become predominant in the Catholic Church–nearly every church, oratory, shrine, and place dedicated to Christ’s Church is bathed in colored light. Why is this? Stained glass tells the story of saints, a story of the passion, resurrection, and salvation. Each stained-glass window depicts a small portion of a much larger story. 

When we are baptized, we are like the clear windows, we let the light shine through us directly onto Christ, but as we grow and encounter the sinful world, our glass becomes shaded and colored. The moments of our lives shrouded in pain and suffering turn red, the experiences of peace cast blues across our lives, and for every experience our lives take on a deeper image and message. These experiences can take on beautiful color if we allow the light radiating from Christ to shine through them, but if we turn these experiences into perpetual self-pity and pride, the windowpane will become clouded and black–obstructing light. 

While we are born with a metaphorical blank slate, we die with lives unique to our individuality and in such ways, our stained glass becomes purified to reflect the image of Christ and our salvation. By turning to Christ in our trials, our challenges, and our victories, we become a small depiction of a much larger story. We become stained glass saints whose lives tell the story of God’s provident hand and by doing so, we edify the Church with the beauty of our sin-stained lives which were saved by Christ. 

While I sat in line for confession, eyes cast on the stained glass, my initial distraction did not become an obstruction but instead became God’s message to me that beauty comes through the staining of life. I entered the confessional, ready to turn the pane darkened by sin into a violet hue casting light on the story of salvation.