THE INVOCATION OF SAINTS.
Christians of most denominations are accustomed to recite the following
article contained in the Apostles’ Creed: “I believe in the communion of
Saints.” There are many, I fear, who have these words frequently on their
lips, without an adequate knowledge of the precious meaning which they
convey.
The true and obvious sense of the words quoted from the Creed is, that
between the children of God, whether reigning in heaven or sojourning on
earth, there exists an intercommunion, or spiritual communication by
prayer; and, consequently, that our friends who have entered into their
rest are mindful of us in their petitions to God.
In the exposition of her Creed the Catholic Church weighs her words in the
scales of the sanctuary with as much precision as a banker weighs his
gold. With regard to the Invocation of Saints the Church simply declares
that it is “useful and salutary” to ask their prayers. There are
expressions addressed to the Saints in some popular books of devotion
which, to critical readers, may seem extravagant. But they are only the
warm language of affection and poetry, to be regulated by our standard of
faith; and notice that all the prayers of the Church end with the formula:
“Through our Lord Jesus Christ,” sufficiently indicating her belief that
Christ is the Mediator of salvation. A heart tenderly attached to the
Saints will give vent to its feelings in the language of hyperbole, just
as an enthusiastic lover will call his future bride his adorable queen,
without any intention of worshiping her as a goddess. This reflection
should be borne in mind while reading such passages.
I might easily show, by voluminous quotations from ecclesiastical writers
of the first ages of the Church, how conformable to the teaching of
antiquity is the Catholic practice of invoking the intercession of the
Saints. But as you, dear reader, may not be disposed to attach adequate
importance to the writings of the Fathers, I shall confine myself to the
testimony of Holy Scripture.
You will readily admit that it is a salutary custom to ask the prayers of
the blessed in heaven, provided you have no doubt that they can _hear_
your prayers, and that they have the _power_ and the _will_ to assist you.
Now the Scriptures amply demonstrate the knowledge, the influence and the
love of the Saints in our regard.
First—It would be a great mistake to suppose that the Angels and Saints
reigning with God see and hear in the same manner that we see and hear on
earth, or that knowledge is communicated to them as it is communicated to
us. While we are confined in the prison of the body, we see only with our
eyes and hear with our ears; hence our faculties of vision and hearing are
very limited. Compared with the heavenly inhabitants, we are like a man in
a darksome cell through which a dim ray of light penetrates. He observes
but few objects, and these very obscurely. But as soon as our soul is
freed from the body, soaring heavenward like a bird released from its
cage, its vision is at once marvelously enlarged. It requires neither eyes
to see nor ears to hear, but beholds all things in God as in a mirror. “We
now,” says the Apostle, “see through a glass darkly; but then face to
face. Now, I know in part; but then I shall know even as I am known.”(192)
In our day we know what wonderful facility we have in communicating with
our friends at a distance. A message to Berlin or Rome with the answer,
which a century ago would require sixty days in transmission, can now be
accomplished in sixty minutes.
I can hold a conversation with an acquaintance in San Francisco, three
thousand miles away, and can talk to him as easily and expeditiously as if
he were closeted with me here in Baltimore.
Nay more, we can distinctly recognize one another by the sound of our
voice.
If a scientist had predicted such events, a hundred years past, he would
be regarded as demented. And yet he would not be a visionary, but a
prophet.
Let us not be unwise in measuring Divine power by our finite reason.
If such revelations are made in the natural order, what may we not expect
in the supernatural world? If science gives us such rapid and easy means
of corresponding with our fellow beings on foreign shores, what methods
may not the God of Sciences employ to enable us to communicate with our
brethren on the shores of eternity?
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in
your philosophy.”
That the spirits of the just in heaven are clearly conversant with our
affairs on earth is manifest from the following passages of Holy Writ. The
venerable Patriarch Jacob, when on his deathbed, prayed thus for his two
grandchildren: “May the angel that delivereth me from all evils bless
these boys!”(193) Here we see a holy Patriarch—one singularly favored by
Almighty God, and enlightened by many supernatural visions, the father of
Jehovah’s chosen people—asking the angel in heaven to obtain a blessing
for his grandchildren. And surely we cannot suppose that he would be so
ignorant as to pray to one that could not hear him.
The angel Raphael, after having disclosed himself to Tobias, said to him:
“When thou didst pray with tears, and didst bury the dead, and didst leave
thy dinner, I offered thy prayer to the Lord.”(194) How could the angel,
if he were ignorant of these petitions, have presented to God the prayers
of Tobias?
To pass from the Old to the New Testament, our Savior declares that “there
shall be joy before the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance.”(195)
Then the angels are glad whenever you repent of your sins. Now, what is
repentance? It is a change of heart. It is an interior operation of the
will. The saints, therefore, are acquainted—we know not how—not only with
your actions and words, but even with your very thoughts.
And when St. Paul says that “we are made a spectacle to the world, to
angels, and to men,”(196) what does he mean, unless that as our actions
are seen by men even so they are visible to the angels in heaven?
The examples I have quoted refer, it is true, to the angels. But our Lord
declares that the saints in heaven shall be like the angelic spirits, by
possessing the same knowledge, enjoying the same happiness.(197)
We read in the Gospel that Dives, while suffering in the place of the
reprobates, earnestly besought Abraham to cool his burning thirst. And
Abraham, in his abode of rest after death, was able to listen and reply to
him. Now, if communication could exist between the souls of the just and
of the reprobate, how much easier is it to suppose that interchange of
thought can exist between the saints in heaven and their brethren on
earth?
These few instances are sufficient to convince you that the spirits in
heaven hear our prayers.
Second—We have, also, abundant testimony from Scripture to show that the
saints assist us by their prayers. Almighty God threatened the inhabitants
of Sodom and Gomorrha with utter destruction on account of their crimes
and abominations. Abraham interposes in their behalf and, in response to
his prayer, God consents to spare those cities if only ten just men are
found therein. Here the avenging hand of God is suspended and the fire of
His wrath withheld, through the efficacy of the prayers of a single
man.(198)
We read in the Book of Exodus that when the Amalekites were about to wage
war on the children of Israel Moses, the great servant and Prophet of the
Lord, went upon a mountain to pray for the success of his people; and the
Scriptures inform us that whenever Moses raised his hands in prayer the
Israelites were victorious, but when he ceased to pray Amalek conquered.
Could the power of intercessory prayer be manifested in a more striking
manner? The silent prayer of Moses on the mountain was more formidable to
the Amalekites than the sword of Josue and his armed hosts fighting in the
valley.(199)
When the same Hebrew people were banished from their native country and
carried into exile in Babylon, so great was their confidence in the
prayers of their brethren in Jerusalem that they sent them the following
message, together with a sum of money, that sacrifice might be offered up
for them in the holy city: “Pray ye for us to the Lord our God, for we
have sinned against the Lord our God.”(200)
When the friends of Job had excited the indignation of the Almighty in
consequence of their vain speech, God, instead of directly granting them
the pardon which they sought, commanded them to invoke the intercession of
Job: “Go,” He says, “to My servant Job and offer for yourselves a
holocaust, and My servant Job will pray for you and his face will I
accept.”(201) Nor did they appeal to Job in vain; for, “the Lord was
turned at the penance of Job when he prayed for his friends.”(202) In this
instance we not only see the value of intercessory prayer, but we find God
sanctioning it by His own authority.
But of all the sacred writers there is none that reposes greater
confidence in the prayers of his brethren than St. Paul, although no one
had a better knowledge than he of the infinite merits of our Savior’s
Passion, and no one could have more endeared himself to God by his
personal labors. In his Epistles St. Paul repeatedly asks for himself the
prayers of his disciples. If he wishes to be delivered from the hands of
the unbelievers of Judea, and his ministry to be successful in Jerusalem,
he asks the Romans to obtain these favors for him. If he desires the grace
of preaching with profit the Gospel to the Gentiles, he invokes the
intercession of the Ephesians.
Nay, is it not a common practice among ourselves, and even among our
dissenting brethren, to ask the prayers of one another? When a father is
about to leave his house on a long journey the instinct of piety prompts
him to say to his wife and children: “Remember me in your prayers.”
Now I ask you, if our friends, though sinners, can aid us by their
prayers, why cannot our friends, the saints of God, be able to assist us
also? If Abraham and Moses and Job exercised so much influence with the
Almighty while they lived in the flesh, is their power with God diminished
now that they reign with Him in heaven?
We are moved by the children of Israel sending their pious petitions to
their brethren in Jerusalem. They recalled to mind, no doubt, what the
Lord said to Solomon after he had completed the temple: “My eyes shall be
open and My ears attentive to the prayer of him that shall pray in this
place.”(203) If the supplications of those that prayed in the earthly
Jerusalem were so efficacious, what will God refuse to those who pray to
Him face to face in the heavenly Jerusalem?
Third—But you will ask, are the saints in heaven so interested in our
welfare as to be mindful of us in their prayers? Or, are they so much
absorbed in the contemplation of God, and in the enjoyment of celestial
bliss, as to be altogether regardless of their friends on earth? Far from
us the suspicion that the saints reigning with God ever forget us. In
heaven, charity is triumphant. And how can the saints have love, and yet
be unmindful of their brethren on earth? If they have one desire greater
than another, it is to see us one day wearing the crowns that await us in
heaven. If they were capable of experiencing sorrow, their grief would
spring from the consideration that we do not always walk in their
footsteps here, so as to make sure our election to eternal glory
hereafter.
The Hebrew people believed, like us, that the saints after death were
occupied in praying for us. We read in the Book of Maccabees that Judas
Maccabeus, the night before he engaged in battle with the army of the
impious Nicanor, had a supernatural dream, or vision, in which he beheld
Onias, the High-Priest, and the prophet Jeremiah, both of whom had been
long dead. Onias appeared to him with outstretched arms, praying for the
people of God. Pointing to Jeremiah, he said to Judas Maccabeus: “This is
a lover of his brethren and the people of Israel. This is he that prayeth
much for the people and for all the holy city, Jeremiah, the Prophet of
God.”(204) Then Jeremiah, as is related in the sequel of the vision,
handed a sword to Judas, with which the prophet predicted that Judas would
conquer his enemies. The soldiers, animated by the relation of Judas,
fought with invincible courage and overcame the enemy. The Book of
Maccabees, though not admitted by our dissenting brethren to be inspired,
must, at least, be acknowledged by them to be a faithful historical
record. It is manifest, therefore, from this narrative that the Hebrew
people believed that the saints in heaven pray for their brethren on
earth.
St. John in his Revelation describes the Saints before the throne of God
praying for their earthly brethren: “The four and twenty ancients fell
down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps and golden vials full
of odors, which are the prayers of the saints.”(205)
The prophet Zachariah records a prayer that was offered by the angel for
the people of God, and the favorable answer which came from heaven: “How
long, O Lord, wilt Thou not have mercy on Jerusalem, and on the cities of
Juda, with which Thou hast been angry?... And the Lord answered the angel
... good words, comfortable words.”(206)
Nor can we be surprised to learn that the angels labor for our salvation,
since we are told by St. Peter that “the devil goeth about like a roaring
lion, seeking whom he may devour;” for, if hate impels the demons to ruin
us, surely love must inspire the angels to help us in securing the crown
of glory. And if the angels, though of a different nature from ours, are
so mindful of us, how much more interest do the saints manifest in our
welfare, who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh?
To ask the prayers of our brethren in heaven is not only conformable to
Holy Scripture, but is prompted by the instincts of our nature. The
Catholic doctrine of the Communion of Saints robs death of its terrors,
while the Reformers of the sixteenth century, in denying the Communion of
Saints, not only inflicted a deadly wound on the Creed, but also severed
the tenderest chords of the human heart. They broke asunder the holy ties
that unite earth with heaven—the soul in the flesh with the soul released
from the flesh. If my brother leaves me to cross the seas I believe that
he continues to pray for me. And when he crosses the narrow sea of death
and lands on the shores of eternity, why should he not pray for me still?
What does death destroy? The body. The soul still lives and moves and has
its being. It thinks and wills and remembers and loves. The dross of sin
and selfishness and hatred are burned by the salutary fires of contrition,
and nothing remains but the pure gold of charity.
O far be from us the dreary thought that death cuts off our friends
entirely from us! Far be from us the heartless creed which declares a
perpetual divorce between us and the just in heaven! Do not imagine when
you lose a father or mother, a tender sister or brother, who die in the
peace of Christ, that they are forgetful of you. The love they bore you on
earth is purified and intensified in heaven. Or if your innocent child,
regenerated in the waters of baptism, is snatched from you by death, be
assured that, though separated from you in body, that child is with you in
spirit and is repaying you a thousand-fold for the natural life it
received from you. Be convinced that the golden link of prayer binds you
to that angelic infant, and that it is continually offering its fervent
petitions at the throne of God for you, that you may both be reunited in
heaven. But I hear men cry out with Pharisaical assurance, “You dishonor
God, sir, in praying to the saints. You make void the mediatorship of
Jesus Christ. You put the creature above the Creator.” How utterly
groundless is this objection! We do not dishonor God in praying to the
saints. We should, indeed, dishonor Him if we consulted the saints
_independently_ of God. But such is not our practice. The Catholic Church
teaches, on the contrary, that God alone is the Giver of all good gifts;
that He is the Source of all blessings, the Fountain of all goodness. She
teaches that whatever happiness or glory or _influence_ the saints
possess, all comes from God. As the moon borrows her light from the sun,
so do the blessed borrow their light from Jesus, “the Sun of Justice, the
one Mediator (of redemption) of God and men.”(207) Hence, when we address
the saints, we beg them to pray for us through the merits of Jesus Christ,
while we ask Jesus to help up through His own merits.
But what is the use of praying to the saints, since God can hear us. If it
is vain and useless to pray to the saints because God can hear us, then
Jacob was wrong in praying to the angel; the friends of Job were wrong in
asking him to pray for them, though God commanded them to invoke Job’s
intercession; the Jews exiled in Babylon were wrong in asking their
brethren in Jerusalem to pray for them; St. Paul was wrong in beseeching
his friends to pray for him; then we are all wrong in praying for each
other. You deem it useful and pious to ask your pastor to pray for you. Is
it not, at least, equally useful for me to invoke the prayers of St. Paul,
since I am convinced that he can hear me?
God forbid that our supplications to our Father in heaven should diminish
in proportion as our prayers to the Saints increase; for, after all, we
must remember that, while the Church declares it necessary for salvation
to pray to God, she merely asserts that it is “good and useful to invoke
the saints.”(208) To ask the prayers of the saints, far from being
useless, is most profitable. By invoking their intercession, instead of
one we have many praying for us. To our own tepid petitions we unite the
fervent supplications of the blessed and “the Lord will hear the prayers
of the just.”(209) To the petitions of us, poor pilgrims in this vale of
tears, are united those of the citizens of heaven. We ask them to pray to
their God and to our God, to their Father and to our Father, that we may
one day share their delights in that blessed country in company with our
common Redeemer, Jesus Christ, with whom to live is to reign.