I started collecting icons after returning from a week at Little Portion Hermitage in Arkansas. I was familiar with icons before that, but experiencing them everywhere I turned during that week was life-changing, a constant reminder of the world of heaven. Even though I was a Protestant pastor at the time, I started hanging icons in my church office, and since leaving pastoral ministry I have been displaying them at home, mostly in my study, where there are icons of Jesus and Mary, and also of Saints Peter and Paul, as well as the 20th century Orthodox St. Paisios of Mount Athos. From time to time I also display icons of St. Francis of Assisi, St. Patrick of Ireland and St. John of the Cross. These all remind me, in a very tangible way, that in prayer I am joining with that great company surrounding the throne of God.
When we turn to Jesus Christ, we become part of the community of believers. St. Cyprian, a 3rd Century bishop and martyr, wrote: “Above all, he who preaches peace and unity did not want us to pray by ourselves in private or for ourselves alone. We do not say ‘My Father, who art in heaven,’ nor ‘Give me this day my daily bread.’ It is not for himself alone that each person asks to be forgiven, not to be led into temptation or to be delivered from evil. Rather, we pray in public as a community, and not for one individual but for all. For the people of God are all one” (From a treatise on the Lord’s Prayer).
In the early Church, when many were being martyred for their faith, believers had a lively sense that when their fellow Christians died they were still closely connected with the Church on earth. The Martyrdom of Polycarp, written in the mid-2nd Century, records that “we took up his bones, which are more valuable than precious stones” and that they gathered together “to celebrate the birthday of his martyrdom in commemoration of those who have already fought in the contest, and for the training and preparation of those who will do so in the future.” A short time later Origen argued that “the Church in heaven assists the Church on earth with its prayers” (J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, p. 490). Christians in the early Church thought it made good sense to request the prayers of those who had completed their earthly journey, just as believers on earth request prayer from one another.
But several years ago, in a discussion on this topic, I heard a pastor say, “when we’re in heaven there will be no reason to pray” (since we’ll no longer need to cry out to God for help). But consider these words: “I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, ‘O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?’” (Rev. 6:9-10). If these souls in heaven are not praying, what are they doing?
This pastor was thinking of prayer only in terms of making requests based on our own needs, but this seems too limited to me. What about silent prayer, simply sitting in God’s presence or meditating on Scripture? The Catechism of the Catholic Church gives this definition by St. John Damascene: “Prayer is the raising of one’s mind and heart to God or the requesting of good things from God.” Placing ourselves in God’s presence is prayer as well as asking things from Him. Or this, from St. Therese of Lisieux: “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven....” (Ibid.).
Is there any reason to think those in heaven are unconcerned about the Church on earth? The martyrs in Revelation 6 are crying out about something going on in this world; and why wouldn’t they also join their prayers with their brethren on earth who are still struggling? I know the question “how do you know the saints can hear us?” But even here on earth we are connected with one another in ways we don’t understand. Dr. Caroline Leaf reports that there are many documented studies of the impact of prayer on people distant from one another and adds that “An innovative experiment was done that showed that we are capable of impacting each other’s minds and brains even when sensory signals (the five senses), electromagnetic signals, mirror neurons, and insula activity have all been removed” (Switch on Your Brain,p.113). Our minds can influence others without direct communication. Is it then unbelievable to think that this great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us is able to hear when we ask for prayer?
The Christian singer/songwriter John Michael Talbot says this about an extraordinary experience God gave him: “After my experience of Paradise, the Holy Mass had opened up for me in a new way. It was like a spiritual explosion; as if all of heaven and earth meet in every word and gesture of the Mass, and especially Jesus in the Eucharist. Every church is crowded with all the angels and saints, patriarchs, prophets, and apostles gathered around us regardless of whether there are three or three thousand gathered” (Late Have I Loved You, p. 138). Every church is crowded with worshipers we can’t see with our eyes; is there any compelling reason why we shouldn’t ask for their prayers?
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