The eye cannot say to the hand, "I do not need you"- 1 Corinthians 12:21
The Saints. When you didn't grow up Catholic (like me) that means a football team. A not very good football team at that (sans all this new success). It might also conjure up a tune ("Oh when the saints, go marching in...). I digress, but, hey, my kids are dancing now.
In evaluating the Catholic understanding of the Saints a number of issues arise: prayers to them, their role in our lives, who they are, and a few other issues that fall under the sub-domain of one of those. Before I look at the historical and biblical understanding of the Saints, I first want to address what I call "Christian sensibilities".
What I am aiming at is the "gut reaction". To use examples from other orders of experience, when someone of a foreign origin walks into your office what do you think? When someone hands you a strange food, what do you feel? When you walk into a Church and notice paintings and statues of Biblical and Church heroes what is your reaction? I like to think of this as a kind of Christian litmus test in very much the same way it is a litmus test for things like our respect for human life or our true racial sentiments.
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| Not a Catholic teaching |
On my journey to the Catholic Church, I always tried to pause a moment and step back from the rhetoric and debate and ask myself, "Is this a Christian thing to think?" I mean, if the Catholic Church taught that Obi-Wan Kenobi is real and must be obeyed, then we had...well...problems.
In 1 Corinthians, Paul warns us that we are not at liberty to reject another part of the body. Even more, from our experience and a second grade education we understand that most of what is really happening with our body we cannot see. Some of this is geographical (the back of your head, where you sit, etc.) However, most of what we cannot see happening is because it is meant to be out of our view. In fact, the health of the body is predicated on you not seeing your heart beating, your spleen working, or your bones stressing under the pressure of Thanksgiving seconds.
At this point, I'll suspend my momentum and not delve into Holy Scripture. That is for another day. What I will ask is a few questions. Questions not so unlike the kind of questions one might ask a friend who is a semi-bibliophobe standing outside of Barnes and Nobles. That's the way I felt. Not about books, of course, but about the Saints (and not the football team this time). It's like I was standing out in a storm and I could smell the fresh coffee, see the smiling faces, almost hear the pages turning but I wouldn't go in. I was frozen. Why was I so afraid of my celestial family?
With all the suffering Christians face on earth, are our brothers and sisters in heaven really doing this?
If we asked them for some help, will they do this?
Is heaven a big happy hugfest?
Or, is it more like this?
A heaven full of scholars, noblemen, peasants, husbands, wives, nuns, monks, athletes, soldiers, martyrs and minstrels, all before the face of God in perfect union with Christ filled to the full with the Holy Spirit. And as the Spirit looks upon the earth and groans at our sin and suffering, it is with and through the Saints that we hear the noise.
Yes, the Saints are the pharmacists and Jesus is the doctor. He writes the prescription and the Saints fill it. St. Rose of Lima, patroness of my family and the Americas, pray for us! (and you)(hat tip to Taylor Marshall for the pharmacist analogy)
