As moves to canonise Pope John Paul II accelerate, questions are being asked about the alacrity with which the Vatican hands out the halos

Being saintly is never easy. In the early days of Christianity, the holy faced persecution by the superpower of the day and were likely to be killed in imaginative ways: fed to wild beasts in the arena, like St Ignatius of Antioch, or tied to a bull and dragged through the streets, like St Saturninus. Or cooked on a grill, like St Leonard, who is said to have cried out before his death: “I am done on this side; turn me over and eat.”

Martyrdom is less common today, but other tests for the pious have multiplied. Consumerism, licentiousness and secularism tempt them at every turn. Neither the 20th century nor the start of the 21st has been lacking in evil. And advances in science have left less room for miracles. The opposite of a sinner now is someone who eats Fairtrade bananas and cycles to work. Little room left, you might think, for exceptional piety. Not so. Sainthood is back in vogue.

At a solemn ceremony at the Basilica of St John Lateran in Rome last week, five black metal chests were delivered to the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. Among those present was Sister Marie-Simon-Pierre, a French nun in the Little Sisters of Catholic Motherhood. Foremost among the documents in the chests – the results of an in-depth examination of the life and beliefs of the late Pope John Paul II – was evidence of her medically unexplained recovery from Parkinson’s, a miracle attributed to the intercession of the late Pope.

In the glacially slow world of the Vatican, the presentation of the inquiry’s results on the second anniversary of John Paul’s death is the equivalent of an overnight delivery by FedEx. Canonisation usually takes decades, sometimes centuries. Joan of Arc, for example, was not officially recognised as a saint until 1920, 489 years after the English burnt her at the stake. According to the rules, the process isn’t even supposed to start until five years after death. In waiving that requirement for John Paul II, Pope Benedict XVI was bowing to the cries of “Santo subito” (”Sainthood now”) at his predecessor’s funeral.

The Polish Pope’s elevation will be quicker than St Joan’s for another reason: the reforms he introduced in 1983. Before then, the church demanded proof of two miracles for beatification, the level below full sainthood, and two more for canonisation. Now it requires one for each. Less noted but just as importantly, he abolished the role of Promoter of the Faith, better known as the Devil’s Advocate, whose job was to argue against canonisation. The Rev Stephen Wang, a lecturer at Allen Hall Seminary in London and a spokesman for the Roman Catholic Diocese of Westminster, says the new system is cheaper but no less rigorous.

But it has also made canonisation easier. And Pope John Paul II took full advantage of that. In all, he canonised a record 464 saints, more than any other pope, prompting charges in the press that he was running a “saint factory”. Some Catholics worry that the flood of new saints dilutes their importance, or that their credibility could be called into question later if corners are cut now. Scientists regularly challenge the validity of saintly relics; just last week it was found that a Vatican-recognised jar of ashes from St Joan’s pyre were the remains of an Egyptian mummy. Still others see a reflection of John Paul’s conservative control over the earthly church, where by 2005, all but three of the top posts were filled by his men. “He appointed cardinals on earth and saints in heaven,” says the Rev John Drury, a fellow of All Souls, Oxford.

Defenders of the late Pope’s generosity with halos say he was just continuing the process started with the Vatican II reforms in the 1960s, when the church finally allowed mass to be celebrated in the vernacular as well as Latin. John Paul’s global saints were a recognition that the church’s centre of gravity has shifted towards Latin America, Africa and even Asia. Among the 464 new saints were 103 martyred in South Korea and 110 in Vietnam. “There’s no reason why the church’s saints should all come from the Mediterranean,” says Catherine Pepinster, the editor of The Tablet, a Catholic paper. “Lots of people think the church focuses heavily on sin, but with saints, it’s focusing on those who have done good.”

Many religions hold that some people are holier than others, from Sufi mystics and Sikh martyrs to enlightened Buddhists. Though they lack the formal vetting procedure, non-Catholic Christian sects, the Orthodox, the Coptics and even the Anglicans, have their own lists of holy people. But in early Christianity, the word “saint” referred merely to the baptised. Thus the simple division of people into “saints and sinners”. It was under the Roman persecution that sainthood became something special. Ever since, saints have fulfilled two roles for the faithful.

The first is as an inspiration and guide, says Dr Wang. Take St Francis of Assisi, a 13th-century friar who preached to the birds, made peace with a wolf and gave thanks to his donkey (bringing tears to the beast’s eyes). A well-crafted sermon on St Francis’s joyful poverty could make even the most materialistic parishioner reconsider his priorities.

The second is as a spiritual link to God. To this day, shrines are often designed so that worshippers can reach inside and touch something closer to the divine. They can also call upon saints to intercede with God for them. The Almighty hears all prayers, but apparently he’s more likely to respond to pleas channelled through souls who have already proven their sanctity.

But there is a third function too, one the church does not so readily acknowledge. Saints are, and always have been, political. Even the early martyrs served a political purpose, hardening the resolve of believers and striking awe into the hearts of the unconverted. Without martyrs, Christianity might well have withered.

Throughout the first millennium, sainthood was an unregulated business. Holy men and women were venerated where they lived, and their fame gradually spread after they died. Local bishops might declare a feast day, which might or might not be recognised in Rome. Until the popes began to exert their authority in the 1200s, the system was ripe for corruption. Possession of a well-known saint’s relics, however dubious their provenance, guaranteed the arrival of wealthy pilgrims, lavish gifts for the host church and inflated prices for local merchants.

Like Chaucer’s pilgrims, I went to Canterbury, the heart of English Christendom. As the spring sunshine spilled through the ancient stained-glass windows, the dean, the Very Rev Robert Willis, led me through the history, from the cathedral’s founder, St Augustine, to St Thomas à Becket, martyred by four of King Henry II’s knights. Becket’s murder was the result of a broad political clash between the church and the rising feudal states. It was a severe setback for Henry II, who was so remorseful that he came to the cathedral barefoot.

But it is the fate of the cult of St Thomas that best illustrates the power of sainthood. On the flagstones behind the archbishop’s throne, a single white candle flickers where an elaborate shrine once stood. Plated with gold and encrusted with jewels, it was dismantled and carted away to London on the orders of Henry VIII.

Henry may have been motivated by a hunger for treasure, or by the Protestant belief that saints, like other mortals, had to wait for Judgement Day before ascending to heaven. But as a consummate politician, he was keenly aware that shrines could become the focus of resistance to the Reformation. Becket’s was a particular threat, as he represents the humiliation of secular authority at the hands of Rome.

Today, even without the shrine, St Thomas is a powerful draw to Canterbury, while the political controversy has passed into history. Not so the disputes about some of Pope John Paul II’s saints, such as St Josemaria Escriva. The founder of Opus Dei is greeted with suspicion by those who see the order as a shadowy church within the church.

More contentious still is Padre Pio, now St Pio of Pietrelcina, a charismatic friar famous for supernatural events, including the stigmata – wounds matching those Christ suffered on the cross. He has been accused of everything from plagiarism to having sex with women in the confessional. During his lifetime, the Vatican denied that he was divinely inspired, and restricted his public preaching.

And the canonisation of Edith Stein, a Jewish convert killed by the Nazis at Auschwitz, stirred an interfaith row between those who say she was martyred for the anti-Nazi stance of the church in Holland and those who say it was for being Jewish.

Almost as controversial are the candidates John Paul II did not promote, central among them Archbishop Oscar Romero, who was shot by a death squad while celebrating mass at a hospital in El Salvador in 1980. His enemies accused him of being allied with Marxist-influenced liberation theology. For a Pope who will always be remembered for his role in bringing down the Iron Curtain, it was an unacceptable political stain. Archbishop Romero’s halo remains in storage, for now.

Pope John Paul II 1920-2005

During his 27 years on the throne of St Peter, John Paul II travelled to 117 countries, becoming one of the best-loved pontiffs in history. He created more saints than any other pope. The others are:

St Ignatius of Antioch 35-107

A student of John the apostle, Ignatius was eager to prove his faith through martyrdom. The Roman authorities hoped to discourage the new religion’s spread but found that putting him to death in the arena only inspired more converts.

St Francis of Assisi 1182-1226

Patron saint of animals and founder of the Franciscans. He adopted a life of poverty and service after an icon of the crucified Christ spoke to him three times: “Francis, Francis, go and repair My house which, as you can see, is falling into ruins.”

St Thomas à Becket 1118-1170

A close friend and servant of Henry II, Thomas à Becket was reluctant to become Archbishop of Canterbury, knowing his allegiance would then have to shift to Rome. After years clashing with the King, he was murdered by four over-zealous knights.

St Joan of Arc 1412-1431

Inspired by visions of God, Joan led a relief force that lifted the English siege of Orléans when she was only 17. Two years later, she was captured, tried for heresy and burnt at the stake. A retrial, ordered by the Vatican, overturned her conviction.

St Josemaria Escriva 1902-1975

A friend of Spain’s fascist dictator, Francisco Franco, and founder of Opus Dei. Two of the nine judges on the Congregation for the Causes of Saints opposed Escriva’s canonisation, and one said it could cause the church grave public scandal.

St Edith Stein 1891-1942

A doctor of philosophy, Stein converted from Orthodox Judaism to Catholicism after reading the autobiography of the mystic St Teresa of Avila and became a nun. She was killed by the Nazis in the gas chambers at Auschwitz.

St Pio of Pietrelcina 1887-1968

Known as Padre Pio. His fame rests on his penetrating understanding of people and miracles such as the stigmata. The founder of Rome’s Catholic University called him “an ignorant and self-mutilating psychopath who exploited people’s credulity”.

Archbishop Oscar Romero 1917-1980

An outspoken critic of human rights violations by the authorities in El Salvador and their allies in the late 1970s. Although his canonisation has been delayed, he is honoured by the Anglican church and his statue is one of 10 20th-century martyrs above the west door to Westminster Abbey.