​My vote: Martin
Maximus was a Byzantine monk and scholar of the late 6th and early 7th centuries most known for his role in the Monothelite controversy. I’ll be honest, I don’t really care about the theological nature of Christ. It’s not something I spend time wondering about. As a result, I’m not the best person to try to  explain this, but here goes. Monothelitism says that Jesus Christ has one (divine) will as opposed to dyothelitism, the idea that Jesus has two wills, one divine and one human. 
Monothelitism was the accepted doctrine in the Byzantine Empire, but Maximus would not accept it. He preached dyothelitism until he was tried as a heretic in 658 and 662. After the second trial, Maximus was tortured and his tongue was cut out so he could no longer preach heresy. He was exiled and died that same year. Dyothelitism was later accepted as the true doctrine of the church at the Third Council of Constantinople in 680-681. 
Martin de Porres was born in 1579 in Peru to a Spanish noble father and a mixed African and indigenous mother. His father abandoned the family a few years later and Martin grew up in poverty. He spent hours in prayer. 
Africans and Native Americans were not allowed to join holy orders according to Peruvian law. Martin was allowed to join a Dominican order as a servant, cleaning and doing other chores in exchange for getting to wear monk’s robes and live in the monastery. Sounds more than a little bit like slavery to me, but it made Martin happy. Eight years later, despite the law he was allowed to join the Dominican order of the Holy Rosary Priory in Lima. His fellow monks were not all on board with this, and called him names. Martin ignored the mocking and continued to serve as an almoner, barber, and a healer. He cared for everyone regardless of their skin color or social status. He is the patron saint of those working for racial harmony, among other patronages. Martin gets my vote.

My vote: John
This vote is much less fraught, thank heavens. 
Juan Diego saw the Virgin Mary on five separate occasions in December 1531. She requested that a chapel be built in her honor on the spot where she appeared. As a result of his visions, Our Lady of Guadalupe is worshiped by Catholics throughout the world. 
John Donne was a late 16th early 17th century English poet and scholar. He wrote poems, sermons, and satire which are still quoted today. “No man is an island” and “For whom the bell tolls” are from his Meditation XVII of 1624. He started life as a Catholic, a very dangerous thing to be in England at the time. After his brother died in prison for hiding a priest, Donne reconsidered his faith. He said that it was “better to examine carefully one's religious convictions than blindly to follow any established tradition, for none would be saved at the Final Judgment, by claiming "A Harry, or a Martin taught [them] this."” I can’t think of any better advice. As one of my favorite poets, John gets my vote.

​My vote: Jonathan
Choosing between these two is hard. 
Rutilio was a Salvadoran Jesuit priest and a close friend of Oscar Romero. He was inspired by the reforms and changes of Vatican II, and immersed himself in the communities he served. After a fellow priest was kidnapped by guerillas and government efforts to intimidate priests, Rutilio said in what became known as the Apopa sermon “I am fully aware that very soon the Bible and the Gospels will not be allowed to cross the border. All that will reach us will be the covers since all the pages are subversive – against sin, it is said. So that if Jesus crosses the border at Chalatenango, they will not allow him to enter. They would accuse him, the man-God ... of being an agitator, of being a Jewish foreigner, who confuses the people with exotic and foreign ideas, anti-democratic ideas, and, that is, against the minorities. Ideas against God, because this is a clan of Cain's. Brothers, they would undoubtedly crucify him again.” He was murdered less than a month later on March 13, 1977 by Salvadoran security forces.
Jonathan was an Episcopal seminarian helping register voters in Alabama in 1965. He was arrested on August 14 after picketing in front of a whites-only store. He and the other protesters were finally released on August 20, and he and three others went to get a soda at a nearby store-two white men and two black women. They were blocked by a “special deputy” (racist white man) holding a shotgun named Tom Coleman. Coleman aimed his shotgun at one of the women, 17 year old Ruby Sales and pulled the trigger. Jonathan pushed her aside and was killed instantly. Ruby and the other woman ran, and the other man, a priest, was shot in the back. Coleman claimed self defense, was charged with manslaughter and was acquitted. Of course. He later said that he would shoot again if given the chance. He died in 1997. Ruby Sales was unable to speak for seven months. She testified at the trial and later attended the same seminary as Jonathan had. She continues her activism to this day, thanks to Jonathan.
I struggled with this choice, and still do. Jonathan ultimately won my vote.

​My vote: David
Brendan of Clonfert, or Brendan the Navigator was a 5th-6th century Irish saint known for visiting many islands throughout Britain and founding a monastery on most of them. He is most famous for sailing the Atlantic Ocean in search of the Garden of Eden. 
David is roughly contemporary with Brendan, and is the patron saint of Wales. He was a renowned preacher, and is most famous for the miracle that occurred while he was preaching one day. He was speaking to a large crowd in the village of Llanddewi Brefi when the ground beneath him started to rise, creating a small hill where a church still stands today. 
I think this vote comes down to whether you’re Irish or Welsh. I’m a tiny bit Welsh, so I’m voting for David.

My vote: Leoba
I will confess a fondness for Cuthmann because I’ve been to Steyning (pronounced “Stenning”) and the church he is supposed to have built there. He was born near Bosham (pronounced "Bozzum;" I’ve been there too) and traveled to Steyning pulling his ailing mother in a cart behind him. When the ropes broke, he took it as a sign from God to stop and build a church. He was struggling when St. Andrew appeared and helped him, and the church became St. Andrew’s. 
Leoba or Leofgyth (which means beloved or dear battle) was an 8th century English nun who became known for her holiness and wisdom. She once had a dream where she pulled purple thread from her mouth into a ball which exhausted her, and upon waking she consulted another nun gifted in the interpretation of dreams. This nun predicted that based on this dream, Leoba was destined to be a great and wise leader. She accompanied St. Boniface to Germany where she was in charge of a number of nuns and helped found several nunneries. She retired to an estate in Germany given to her by Charlemagne (the Charlemagne) and died there in 782.
Cuthmann built one church, but Leoba helped found at least two religious houses and was consulted by holy men and women. Leoba’s my vote.

My vote: Seattle
Botolph is a legendary English patron saint of boundaries from the 7th century who is mainly notable (in my opinion) because “Botolph’s town” in England became “Boston”.
Seattle (Si’ahl in modern Duwamish) was a Duwamish and Suquamish chief who is famous for an incredible speech that he never actually gave. The speech was given around 1854 in Seattle’s native language then translated into Chinook jargon (a kind of trading dialect of native languages, French, and English) It was translated into English in 1887 and published from notes collected by a white man. 
Besides the speech, Si’ahl was an advocate for his people. He tried to maintain a balance between his peoples’ traditions and land and the white people’s desire to expand. For his actual, non-legendary actions, Si’ahl gets my vote.

My vote: Josephine
Have you seen the film Chariots of Fire? Me neither, but it’s about Olympic gold medal winning athlete Eric Liddell. He was born to Scottish missionary parents in China, refused to compete on Sundays, even at the Olympics, and died in an internment camp in China in 1945. He seems to have been a very good man, one who tried to make life bearable for his fellow internees, especially the children. 
Josephine Bakhita was born in Darfur around 1869. She was kidnapped by slave traders when she was 7 or 8, and sold five times in twelve years. She was forced to convert to Islam and given the name “Bakhita” by her captors. She couldn’t remember the name her parents gave her.  She was beaten and deliberately scarred by her enslavers. She was bought in 1883 by an Italian diplomat who was kind enough <sarcasm> to not beat her, and she became the nanny to his daughter. For safety, Bakhita and the daughter stayed with the Canossian Sisters in Venice. There Bakhita experienced kindness for probably the first time since her abduction. When the Italian diplomat came to claim her, she refused to leave. The Italian court sided with Bakhita, stating that technically, legally, she had never actually been a slave. Helpful. She was baptized as Josephine on January 9, 1890 and took her vows as a Canossian Sister in 1896. She wrote her autobiography, and when asked what she would say to her captors, she replied "If I were to meet those who kidnapped me, and even those who tortured me, I would kneel and kiss their hands. For, if these things had not happened, I would not have been a Christian and a religious today". (from Bakhita Tells Her Story by Maria Luisa Dagnino, p 113) Josephine teaches us an important lesson: vengeance, regret, and resentment do not help us move forward. These feelings hold us back. There is a painting of Josephine on her Wikipedia entry and she looks so calm and serene, I can’t help but feel comforted just by looking at her. 

My vote: Simeon
Blandina was an early Christian martyr, a slave in the second century AD  who was tortured and killed in the reign of emperor Marcus Aurelius. As she was being tortured, her only response to accusations of cannibalism and incest was “I am a Christian, and we commit no wrongdoing.” Thus she is the patron saint of those falsely accused of cannibalism.
Simeon Bachos is the name given to the “Ethiopian eunuch” of Acts 8 by later writers. I must note that he was not actually Ethiopian as we know it today. He was an ambassador from the Kandake (Queen) of Kush, what is now modern Sudan. Philip the Evangelist meets him in Acts 8 reading the prophet Isaiah and asks the eunuch if he understands what he is reading. The eunuch replied “How can I, unless someone guides me?” (Acts 8:31) The eunuch soon asks Philip to baptize him, and “went on his way rejoicing.” (Acts 8:39)
While the patron saint of those falsely accused of cannibalism is certainly worthy, I went with the eunuch. He’s not afraid to ask for and accept help.

​My vote: Harriet
Do I need to explain Bach? He was indisputably one of the greatest composers ever and Lutheran to boot. He was an incredible musician whose legacy is one of inspiration and wonder.
Harriet was the daughter of an Irish baronet who married Charles Monsell, an Anglican curate. After his death in 1850, she became more involved with the Oxford Movement, an Anglican-Catholic blend of church and social services. She worked among “fallen women” and founded the Community of St. John the Baptist in 1852, an Anglican order of women living according to the rule of St. Augustine. The sisters ministered to women and children in need, and still have several communities, including one in New Jersey. For her real life contributions, Harriet gets my vote. Bach inspired, Harriet served.

​My choice: Edmund
Stanisław’s story is based on legend. He was born in 1030 in Poland and was elected Bishop of Kraków in 1072. He came into conflict with the Polish king Bolesław over land that Stanisław had bought from a man named Piotr, but after Piotr died his family claimed that they owned the land, not the bishop. King Bolesław agreed with Piotr’s family, and laughingly granted Stanisław’s request to bring Piotr, the dead man, as a witness to the sale. Stanisław prayed for three days, dressed up all fancy in his robes and commanded Piotr to rise from his grave. Piotr did, and scolded his family for denying the bishop’s rightful claim. One can imagine Stanisław’s smug face when everyone had to accept not only that was right all along, but that he could raise the dead. Stan then asked Piotr if he wished to remain alive, Piotr said no, and lay back down in his grave and died, probably muttering about nuisance bishops and bothersome children. 
Stanisław was killed by King Bolesław himself in 1079 over the bishop’s criticism of the king’s immorality and/or cruelty. 
Edmund is similarly legendary, reigning as king of East Anglia in the second half of the 9th century, roughly contemporary with Alfred the Great of Wessex.  Nothing is known of him or his reign except a few coins and entries in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. He was killed either in battle against the Great Heathen Army (actual historical title from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) of the Vikings or after battle when the Vikings demanded he renounce Christianity. For centuries he was considered England’s patron saint until being replaced by St. George in the 15th century. Edmund’s shrine was destroyed in 1539, but his name lives on in the name of the town where his shrine was located: Bury St. Edmund’s. 
Stanisław was petty and clearly used his powers for showing off and his own enrichment. Team Edmund all the way.