The cultus of a would-be saint does have elements of celebrity worship. But Michael Jackson probably can't intercede with God
The question: Are celebrities human?
The Roman Catholic church does not make saints: it recognises and proclaims them. The formal procedure of canonisation does not move a heroic individual into heaven. Rather, it confirms that she or he has been there all along (after death, that is). Doubtless, there are countless true saints ? perhaps orders of magnitude more than are formally proclaimed, and perhaps including large numbers of non-Catholics, non-Christians, and even non-believers ? who are never so identified.
The modern process of recognition is, frankly, really rather rigorous. (Even if you don't believe in miracles, you must admit that requiring two medical marvels construable as prompted by the putative saint's intercession ? or even just the one, as for martyrs ? is a fairly stringent criterion. And that's just the finishing touches.) It is also complicated, lengthy and expensive. All of which adds, of course, a significant selection bias to the whole endeavour. Basically speaking, to stand a hope of being recognised as a saint, you need a considerable body of people committed to the idea. These include proposers, postulators, donors, historians, theologians, and above all, pray-ers.
It is here, of course, that celebrity and sainthood begin to overlap. In fact, the very first step of the formal process requires that a certain celebrity status ? in other words, "a widespread reputation of holiness or of martyrdom as well as an authentic and widespread reputation of intercessory power" ? has already been acquired. (This reputation, incidentally, must be "stable, continuous, widespread among trustworthy people and existing among a significant portion of the People of God".)
Furthermore, since Catholics are humans too, the cultus of a (would-be) saint may incorporate all the usual elements of celebrity worship: putting up posters; wanting something owned or touched by them; journeying to significant places; treasuring a lock of hair or a bone. The cult of saints is certainly illumined by the anthropology of celebrity fandom, even though it is not reducible to it (after all, Michael Jackson probably isn't able to intercede with God). And as far as I'm concerned, if Paris Hilton and Justin Bieber receive such adulation and attention, then so too should Gemma Galgani and Pier Giorgio Frassati.
The requirement of "widespread reputation", moreover, adds an interesting factor to the sociology of saintmaking. More often than not, sanctity in this life goes unnoticed and unappreciated: comparatively few since-recognised saints were legends in their own lifetime. For some, postmortem acclaim came swiftly: in the case of Frassati, when thousands of Turin's poor flocked to their benefactor's funeral following his death from polio aged 23 ? much to the surprise of his father, a senator and newspaper publisher, and his well-to-do friends. But for most others, word spreads far more slowly, over decades or centuries. It is no accident that so many recognised saints were the founders of religious orders or congregations. In these cases, not only is there a defined group with a vested interest in the founder's recognition, but there are also clear channels for promoting the cause to others, such as through the group's schools, parishes or missions. Needless to say, widespread reputations do not arise ex nihilo.
The process is not, however, necessarily a slow one. The two swiftest beatifications (the last-but-one step prior to full canonisation) of recent times, Mother Teresa's in 2003 and Pope John Paul II's this coming Sunday, came only six years after their deaths. Neither came as a surprise, and once again celebrity is a key factor. Teresa was widely (albeit not universally) regarded as a "living saint" for several decades. She too, of course, was the founder of an order ? the Missionaries of Charity ? promoting her cause across the globe. The previous pope, meanwhile, travelled constantly, attracting huge crowds wherever he went. Hence millions have had their own, personal "John Paul moment" ? crucial for fostering a personal devotion. (Coming from a country where people take saints, and praying to them, seriously, didn't hurt either. Had Cardinal Newman been Polish, he might well have been beatified a lot sooner.)
Such swift official recognitions, driven by popular acclaim, are not unknown before the modern era (Anthony of Padua was canonised within a year of his death, Francis of Assisi within two). Yet the rise of modern media and, most of all, the internet ? the catalysts of celebrity culture too, of course ? mean that accelerated recognitions of saints will become ever more common.
The seeds of a "widespread reputation of holiness or of martyrdom", which might previously have taken centuries to build, could "go viral" on social media in a matter of days or hours. Indeed, this is happening now: within hours of a Pakistani politician's murder in March, "Shabhaz Bhatti, pray for us" was appearing on my Facebook page. Sectors of the buoyant Catholic blogosphere ? to which the Vatican is paying increasing attention ? are already proclaiming him a martyr.
If Bhatti is indeed a saint, then it won't be Facebook and Twitter that has made him one. Though if the church ultimately recognises and proclaims him as such, then (strange as it is to say) it will partly be due to the same social and technological forces that have made a celebrity of Rebecca Black.
Dennis Bergkamg United Kingdom Banks and building societies Disability Electronic music Xabi Alonso
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