Further Thoughts on the Invocation of the Saints, Tillich, and the Meaning of Symbols

Recently I posted a quote from Paul Tillich that I want now to apply to the thread on the Invocation of the Saints. Earlier in the same article ("The Meaning of Symbols"), Tillich explained that a symbol participates in that to which it points. This is the main characteristic that distinguishes a symbol from a mere sign (The Essential Tillich, p. 42).

The proposal that I set forth for how we might better understand the practice of the Invocation of the Saints is a case in point. In that entry I stated that the Church employs the metaphoric language of direct address/petition to saints as an expression of her belief that our prayers on earth are joined in union with the prayers of the saints in heaven. Hence the Church's language of prayer in this case (I would actually argue in every case) is symbolic in Tillich's sense of opening up a "level of reality which is otherwise closed for us" (p. 42) -- namely, the Communion of the Saints.

Tillich's other observations are equally true when applied to the Invocation of the Saints. For instance, Tillich states that "symbols cannot be produced intentionally ... They grow out of the individual or collective unconscious and cannot function without being accepted by the unconscious dimension of our being" (p. 42). This observation accords very well with the historical development of the cult of the saints in early to late antiquity and its universal acceptance. The origin of the practice cannot be pinpointed to a specific locale or to a particular person or "inventor" as if it were some sort of innovation. Rather it is more accurate to suggest that the practice "emerged" (please excuse a term borrowed from another recent thread) in antiquity in a variety of locales, growing out of the "collective unconscious" of the Church Catholic in its formative period, and never significantly challenged until the 16th century Reformation (and only in the West).

Finally, Tillich's observation that symbols "grow when the situation is ripe for them" and "die when the situation changes" is also consistent with what we see historically. The cult of saints grew out of the period of persecution and came into maturity in the period immediately following this -- during the era known as the "Peace of the Church" ushered in by Constantine. We should never underestimate the psychological momentum of this period, what Peter Brown aptly describes as "the working of an imaginative dialectic which led late-antique men to render their beliefs in the afterlife palpable and directly operative among the living by concentrating these on the privileged figure of a dead saint" (Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints, p. 71).

This observation also accounts for why the practice of the Invocation of the Saints, as well as the cult of the saints as a whole, fell into disuse and ended up "dying" under the changed situation of the Reformation. The churches of the Reformation, with few exceptions, allowed much of the rich symbolism (i.e., metaphor) of antiquity die, as such symbols were no longer associated with the "pure" doctrine of catholic Christianity as much as they were with the abuses of the medieval church. Catholic Christians of today might lament the throwing out of the proverbial baby with the bathwater, but it is quite understandable why the Reformation churches did what they did in their particular contexts.

The strong suspicion of abuse over the practice of invoking saints persists among Protestant Christians to this day. Obviously, much of this is based on misconceptions of what the practice means to the typical Catholic and within Catholic faith and praxis as a whole. But I think the root of the general Protestant disdain for invoking saints goes much deeper than this. Over the years I have convinced many a diehard Protestant that there is nothing inherently idolatrous or particularly heretical in the practice. There have even been those who have been able to accept the practice on an intellectual level while continuing to be reticent and uncomfortable with it in praxis. Why is this? The answer, I believe, is that we are dealing with two different cultures -- Protestant and Catholic -- which find openings into Tillich's "levels of reality which are otherwise closed to us" by employing two different sets of symbols.

On the one hand it is not fair for the Catholic to expect the Protestant to incorporate what amounts to a foreign metaphor into a Protestant set of symbols. On the other hand, it behooves the Catholic of the third millennium to help re-connect the whole of Christendom, Protestantism included, to its roots in Christian antiquity. This begins with understanding and open minds on both sides of the issue.

Until next time.

Johnny asks a great question about the Invocation of the Saints

My cyber-chum Johnny Drums recently asked, "What evidence do we have that a saint in Heaven can hear what a man utters in his heart, or has the omniscience to hear and understand all these prayers at one time? To me, these seem to be attributes of God in which we have no part."

Well Johnny, you are certainly right to suggest that we have no evidence whatsoever that the saints in Heaven can hear what a man utters in his heart, or for that matter, what he utters with his mouth. But this is of no consequence at all to the practice of invoking saints. It is the faith of the Church that matters, in two respects: (1) that the Church believes that the saints, though departed this life, are nonetheless alive and living with God; and (2) that they continue to pray with and for the Church militant here on earth (the doctrine of comprecation). Neither concept should be terribly difficult for a Protestant to accept.

As for invoking saints specifically by name in our supplications, especially those petitions that employ 2nd person address, the Daily Office canticle Benedicite, omnia opera might be able to help us understand such language. Of the many stanzas in this canticle are such like: "O ye Mountains and Hills, bless ye the Lord" and "O ye Fowls of the Air, bless ye the Lord," as well as "O ye Spirit and Souls of the Righteous, bless ye the Lord." Now no one understands the first two of these examples in a literal sense, that is to say, that we would actually expect mountains, hills, or even fowls of the air to hear our exhortations to praise God; let alone would we expect them to understand what we were saying. This is metaphoric language, the truth of which transcends the literal dimension, giving us a glimpse of the realm of the eternal. The same could be said of the last example which exhorts "ye Spirits and Souls of the Righteous" by direct address to bless the Lord. Could not this same metaphoric use make sense of the Church's language of direct address in the invocation of saints, especially in the context of corporate worship?

As I said in my earlier post on this topic, we pray to saints in the certain hope that God will answer the general requests of the Church Triumphant in specific ways for us.

My Thoughts: The Invocation of the Saints

From the Church Militant's earliest and best instinct that in the liturgy she was praying with the Church Triumphant (comprecation of the saints), it is only natural that at some point the Church's liturgy would begin to include general intercessions to members of the Church Triumphant (invocation of the saints). From there, it is not difficult to see where popular devotion would eventually take things. But it is an error to think that the invocation of saints stands on its own as a Medieval innovation or a departure from early church faith and practice; it is neither. Rather the practice of the invocation of the saints is grounded in, and follows from, the Church's earliest affirmations of the comprecation of the saints. That is why I find it helpful to think of saintly invocation in the following way: it is but prayer offered in the certain hope that God will answer the general intercessions of the Church Triumphant in specific ways for us.

Mary and the Dogmatic Destruction of Sacred Metaphor

Titusonenine recently featured an interesting discussion on the topic of the Marian dogmas in light of the recent ARCIC joint statement on Mary (see "Few Agree with Assumptions about Mary" http://titusonenine.classicalanglican.net/?p=12178#comments). After skimming through the 148 comments or so I couldn't help but feel disappointed that the arguments for and against the dogmas of the Immaculate Conception and Mary's Assumption haven't changed much over the years since I began to take interest in these topics.

Let me just say at the outset, I for one greatly applauded the publication of the ARCIC statement, "Mary: Grace and Hope in Christ" (http://www.prounione.urbe.it/dia-int/arcic/doc/e_arcic_mary02.html). But then I am also of the opinion that Anglican theology and devotion as a whole has suffered greatly over the centuries for the lack of a rich Marian theology. It is for good reason that the Eastern churches honor the blessed Theotokos with the title "The Scepter of Orthodoxy." (But that's another subject for another time.)

This is not to say that there weren't valiant attempts by Anglicans down through history to tap into the Marian treasury of the pre-Reformation past (e.g. the Caroline Divines). As well, the 19th century Tractarians and their heirs explored and developed a rich Marian piety. But while much of the Anglo-Catholic liturgical agenda eventually found its way into the mainstream of Anglican faith and practice, Marian piety never really took off in the same way. Why not? I suggest that Rome's dogmatization of the Marian doctrines of the Immaculate Conception, and later the Assumption of Mary, had a stultifying effect on Marian devotion within Anglicanism.

As is well known, Anglicans, like the Eastern Orthodox, have considerable difficulty accepting Rome's claim to speak dogmatically on these issues, or on any issue for that matter. But while Eastern Orthodoxy's Mariology was much older than the papal definitions, and thus already well-established, post-Reformation Anglican Mariology was still, at best, in its infancy when the Immaculate Conception was defined by Pope Pius IX in 1854. Given Anglican reticence over papal claims, Anglican Mariology in the post-Ineffabilis Deus era was surely destined to remain an almost exclusively Anglo-Catholic enterprise.

But it's more than just the Anglican difficulty with papal claims. Rome's dogmatizing of the Marian doctrines changed for all time the very nature of the doctrines themselves by "historicizing" them. Marian theology, at least in the West, shifted from celebrating the Marian doctrines as mysteries within the doxological life of the Church at Prayer toward the constructing of various apologetic approaches either for or against the claims of Rome that these "events" (i.e., the Immaculate Conception and Assumption) actually took place in history. This is what I refer to in my title as the "dogmatic destruction of sacred metaphor."

Now, please don't misunderstand me here. Certainly Mary was conceived in time (i.e. history) and "fell asleep" at the end of her earthly life. But there is a sense in which the "soteriological moment" of these events (the "eschatological moment" in the case of the Assumption) lies outside of time and history. Should it surprise us then that the Church's first expression of these mysteries comes down to us NOT by way of eyewitness account, let alone biblical witness (as Protestants are wont to point out), but rather through story and legend? It is from the medium of sacred legend, not historical account, that these mysteries first crossed over into the Church's liturgical imagination as sacred metaphors, and from the Church's liturgy that these sacred metaphors became authentic loci for theological reflection (lex orandi, lex credendi).

My contention is that the dogmatization of these moments of divine encounter between God and his Maidservant serves to undermine their sacred metaphoric value by re-casting them in the guise of "brute facts" of history that the faithful Christian must believe "happened" in order to be saved. It's not hard to understand why typical Christians outside of the yoke of Roman obedience find this difficult to accept in the absence of historical verification. But more tragically something is lost of the metaphoric role that these mysteries play in the life and devotion of the Church, the People of God, who should see in Mary the iconic representation of their own corporate moment of divine encounter with the living God.

Until next time.