In a groundbreaking revelation that could change the face of religious observance, a group of self-identified "Saints" in a quiet corner of suburban America has come forward to admit that while they may have achieved an impressive collection of honorary titles and church badges, they are, in fact, "not saving anyone." The announcement has been met with a mix of laughter, disbelief, and a Catholic-style wave of guilt. The group, known informally as “Apostles of Appropriateness,” gathered in the basement of St. Mary’s Most Humble Parish to unveil their new motto: “Saints But Not Saviors.” Dressed in an eclectic mix of traditional robes and modern athleisure wear, the participants confessed their struggles with living up to the divine standards set by their very own local patron saints. “It’s like, I have a crucifix necklace and everything, but then I go home and binge-watch reality TV. I can’t even save my houseplants,” lamented Susan “St. of Mild Discomfort” Pritchard, who is known for her casserole-making skills more than any Christ-like qualities. “How can I claim to be a beacon of light when I can’t even keep a fern alive?” Meanwhile, the group’s unofficial leader, Harold “St. of Impending Doom” Jenkins, took to the microphone to outline their mission: “We're not here for salvation or enlightenment, folks. It's about embracing the guilt that comes with knowing we could potentially be saving souls, but instead we’re just saving face.” The crowd erupted in laughter, various shades of guilt washing over their faces as they nodded in agreement. The group plans to host a series of workshops titled “How to Navigate Catholic Guilt Like a Pro.” The first session, sarcastically titled “You’re Definitely Going to Hell: A Guide to Lowering Expectations,” promises to help participants confront the painful yet humorous realities of their spiritual lives. One workshop participant noted, “This could revolutionize the way we approach our weekly confessions. Instead of focusing on sins to confess, we could just throw in some light-hearted comments about how we’re doing our best but still falling short—kinda like my attempts at running a 5K.” Critics of the group argue that their humorous take on an essential aspect of faith could lead to spiritual apathy. “What’s next? A parish bingo night where we all just list our secular fails instead of praying?” questioned local Franciscan Sister Agnes, her eyebrows arched in concern. “The last thing we need is a generation rolling their eyes at eternal damnation.” Meanwhile, the irony of using social media to spread their message has not been lost on the Saints. Their eight-part Instagram series entitled “Saint Today, Sinner Tomorrow” quickly amassed thousands of followers, most of whom loitered in the comments section expressing their own failures and shortcomings. Observers believe this newfound online therapy could lead to a large-scale revival of “humble brags” and “guilt shares” festering among Catholic communities. In the wake of these earth-shattering confessions, many parishioners are investigating the impact of “non-saving” saints on local practices. Some have banded together to create “The Squad of Mediocre Morality,” holding regular meetings where they meet to applaud their own ability to stay in bed on Sundays instead of attending mass. As the Saints But Not Saviors movement gains traction, it remains unclear how the church hierarchy will respond. One thing is certain: as guilt and humor collide, the only saving grace may be laughter itself, despite the fact that few are likely to be redeemed for their poor life choices anytime soon.