“When are you going to talk about the saints?”
It wasn’t exactly the question I was expecting from my mother on a recent visit. (And, as I pointed out, I do “talk” about the saints!) We had been talking about some of the blogs I’ve posted of late and how there are times when these posts seem to write themselves and other times when writing is a struggle.
As always, my mother pointed me to the saints, something she’s been doing since my brothers and I were boys. When we were growing up, she introduced us to patron saints: those women and men who take on the cause of certain groups (life situations, communities, professions, etc.) and intercede on their behalf before God. She made sure we had our throats blessed every February on St. Blaise day (patron of throat ailments). When my wife was pregnant, we prayed to St. Gerard and St. Anne (patrons of the unborn and of expecting women, respectively), and when my dad was dying we looked to St. Joseph (patron of a happy death).
We also called on St. Joseph when my wife and I were selling our first house—having been instructed by my mother that we also needed to bury a statue of the patron saint of house buyers in the backyard. We needed a quick sale, so we were told to bury it upside down. In a slow market, the house sold in a day.
Admittedly, burying a statue of a beloved saint in the yard crosses the line between faith and superstition—and certainly not authentic Catholic practice! I will freely admit that (though in fairness, none of us really believed this ‘trick’ was going to influence St. Joseph, let alone the Lord), but the custom can also suggest something of the role of patron saints in Catholic life.
As does devotion to St. Anthony.
Anthony is the patron saint of lost things. (Theology teacher Paul Prokop is convinced that he will meet believers at the gates of Heaven with a box of all the things we’ve lost in this life…most of them socks.) Most of us remember as children being taught to ask the intercession of the Portuguese Franciscan when we couldn’t find a missing toy or book: "St. Anthony, perfect imitator of Jesus, who received from God the special power of restoring lost things, grant that I may find [the item] which has been lost."
Or if you grew up in the Brennan house: “Tony, Tony, look around. Something's lost and must be found!"
Our world was—and is—filled with the saints. Though unseen, they were as present as my brothers in our house growing up. Everything—our sleep (St. Joseph), our studies (St. Thomas Aquinas), and our sports (St. Sebastian), had its patron saint. These are people who had some aspect of their lives that connected with their potential patronage: St. John the Apostle (burns) survived martyrdom despite being submerged in boiling oil; St. Monica (disappointing children) successfully prayed daily for her wayward son, [St.] Augustine; and St. Therese of Lisieux (florists) lived a spirituality of offering “little flowers” in the form of loving deeds to God each day. They were “assigned” patronage because of those associations.
But there can also be less “direct,” more humorous connections between these holy women and men and the things, people, and life situations that they represent. Like the scientists who gave Latin names to various parts of human anatomy, there is a bit of the 13-year-old boy in the Church officials who gave patronage to some of the saints:
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St. Clare (+ 1253) was laid up sick in her cell and unable to go to Mass with her dear friend and mentor, St. Francis. While in bed she had a vision of Francis celebrating Mass—including an error he made. When Francis came to visit her, she shared the story and Francis realized that her vision took place at exactly the same time he was saying Mass, and that he had, in fact, made the mistake she noticed.
St. Clare is the patron of television.
St. Drogo is the patron of “unattractive” people.
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St. Jerome (+ 420), while a brilliant and gifted linguist and theologian (translating the Bible from the original Hebrew and Greek into Latin), was by all accounts a curmudgeon. People coming to him to seek spiritual advice often found themselves on the receiving end of a barrage of stones. His debates on theological topics were peppered with ad hominem attacks on his opponents.
St. Jerome is the patron of grumpy people.
St. Lawrence is the patron of cooks…and comedians.
I could go on.
There is more than a touch of superstitiousness in burying statues of St. Joseph, there is a bit of irreverence in praying to St. Anthony by invoking “Tony,” and there can be some cheekiness in the way some saints are chosen as patrons. Some might argue that we are being a bit too “familiar” with the saints when we approach them in these ways.
We are being “familiar” because the saints are family: we share God as our Father and the Church as our mother after all.
So calling out to “Tony” or having a patroness for television is as natural as having nicknames for our siblings or bringing up their quirks and teasingly reminding them of past events in their lives. We also call on our heavenly relatives for help the way we call on our cousin the mechanic, or our sister the doctor, or our uncle the accountant: with confidence. Mindful—always—that it is the Lord who ultimately answers our prayers and shares His grace with us, we nonetheless also know that He gave us each other to help navigate this life. St. Paul writes “be devoted to one another in love” (Rom 12:10). But he also reminds us that “love never ends” (1 Cor. 13:8)—it transcends death. The saints, our elder sisters and brothers in the Faith, love us from beyond the grave: taking on our concerns and bringing them before God. Having lived lives not altogether different from our own, they also show us the way to more meaningful relationships with God—and therefore more meaningful lives.
My mother was one of ten children. When her mother was asked why she had so many, she would respond “so that they would never have to be alone.”
Perhaps this is another reason why the Lord has given us our patron saints.
A.M.D.G. / B.V.M.H.