This year's Bridgefolk conference (grass roots Mennonite-Catholic
dialog) focused on the theme of the communion of saints and intercessory
prayer. Over the course of the weekend we heard multiple perspectives
on the story of a Japanese Mennonite man, Jun Yamada, studying at a
Catholic university in Japan, who was miraculously healed of leukemia a
quarter-century ago, following the combined prayers of Mennonites and
Catholics together. This miracle was investigated and validated by the
Vatican, leading to the canonization of St. Joseph Freinadametz (a 19th
century Catholic missionary in China), whose intercession for Jun had
been invoked by Jun's professor, Fr. Fauzone. Both Fr. Fauzone, and
Jun's brother, Nozomu Yamada were present at this year's Bridgefolk
conference, enabling us to hear the story first hand. The conference
was held at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary (AMBS), in Elkhart,
Indiana, where NozomuYamada had been a student when he received the call
communicating the expected, imminent death of his brother, Jun. We
learned that at the canonization ceremony, Pope John Paul II
remarked that "we should have this type of miracle more often,"
referring to the ecumenical nature of the prayer that led to the
miracle.
In the discussion that followed one of the
presentations, one Catholic of Mennonite origin explained that seeking
the intercession of saints had been one of the easiest of his initial
objections to Catholicism for him to let go of. In his view, the "cloud
of witnesses" mentioned in Hebrews chapter 11, coupled with Protestant
willingness to seek intercessory prayer from living Christians,
especially from those one considers to be holy, laid ample foundation
for seeking intercession from faithful Christian witnesses throughout
the ages. Another Mennonite responded that it was still important to
him to affirm that Christians can go directly to God in prayer, without
the aid of an intercessor.
I appreciated and could identify with both comments. I like the idea that when we die
and go to live with God eternally, joining the cloud of witnesses, that God allows us to continue to cooperate with his salvation of the world through our prayers for and with those
still struggling on Earth. I find that more appealing than the thought of having my individuality merely absorbed into God after I die.
The second comment touched on my own distaste, not for the practice itself
of seeking intercession from the communion of saints, but for the way it
is sometimes explained and defended, suggesting that God is more likely
to answer our prayers if they go through someone important, through
someone holier than us. This seems to present an image of God as
distant and difficult to access, which runs counter to Jesus's story
about the prayers of the Pharisee and the publican, and to his teaching
on prayer, which presents God as eager to give us what we need, as a
Father would give his son a loaf of bread rather than a scorpion.
Nothing I can think of in the Bible, portrays God as someone who is
reluctant to answer prayer and who needs to be sweet-talked by those who
are close to him on behalf of ordinary Christians. To encourage
Christians to entrust their prayers to a saint because that saint is closer to God than we are seems to encourage us to
cultivate a greater sense of our own distance from God, under the guise of greater reverence for God.
I
see intercession as a gift that Christians give to each other. It is
an expression of love. Sometimes the only thing we are able to do to
help someone we love is to pray for them. When we ask a friend to pray
for us, it is not because we think that God does not hear our own
prayers, but because we want the support of our friends. We want to know that they
are one with us in what we are asking. There may very well be some
sense in which God's grace is able to flow more freely when Christians
pray together, united in their desire for God's work. This may be true
whether it is Christians alive today who unite themselves in prayer, or
whether it is Christians on Earth today uniting themselves to Christians
who are living now in God's presence.
I have found that in times
of great distress or serious illness I sometimes feel too overwhelmed to
pray myself, and it is a comfort in those times to know that others are
praying for me. This was especially true when I underwent a bone
marrow transplant for leukemia in 1997. I remember expressing concern
to my family and friends as I lay in a hospital bed, facing an uncertain
future, that I felt unable to pray. I was quite disconcerted about
this, for it seemed to me that of all the times in my life, this was a
most important time to be deeply engaged in prayer. I was reassured by the words of someone close to me who said, "That's ok. This is a time when you can relax in the knowledge that
we are all praying for you." And I did gratefully relax into that knowledge.
In
a similar manner, I have found comfort recently in entrusting difficult
situations to the intercession of Mary, the Undoer of Knots. Sometimes
I find myself trapped in my own thoughts that go round and round
without reaching clarity, unsure of how to move forward, and unsure,
even, of how to pray. In these situations, I may be unsure whether my
prayers are genuine or self-deceiving, and I may be painfully aware of
my own forgetfulness and inattentiveness to prayer throughout the day.
In these times, it can be comforting to entrust my need to the
intercession of Mary or of some other saint I have read about who seems
like they might understand my situation. It's not that this replaces my
own efforts to pray to the Holy Trinity, but it supports and
complements my own prayer, and comforts me knowing that others are
praying for me during those moments and hours when I am too distracted
or angry or tired or bored or confused to pray to God myself. It is my
hope that the intercession of the saints helps to sustain and develop my
relationship with God by praying, when I am unable to do so myself, for
precisely those things that will draw me back into a direct
relationship of prayer with God.
There was a time when I
wanted to ask my Catholic friends, "How do you decide when to pray to
Mary and when to pray to God?" I never had the nerve to actually ask that
question, but today I would answer it for myself, that I pray to God
whenever I can and as much as I can, and I ask for the prayers of
friends living and dead when I feel stymied, unmotivated, blocked or
unable to sense God's presence in my life--not because God is, in fact,
distant, but because I feel distant from God and desire the support of others to help facilitate my reunion with God.
