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Why Do We Pray?

The question: Why do we pray?  In particular, why do Catholics pray to the saints for intercession?

The skeptic's charge: Intercessory prayer is a holdover from more superstitious days, perhaps even a mingling of pagan customs with the pure monotheism of the Christians. It is philosophically absurd and unnecessary to suppose that dead human beings can somehow change God's mind about things in order to answer our prayers. Were He to exist, why would He set things up in such a way? Isn't He all-knowing and all-powerful?

For that matter, why do we have to pray at all? God supposedly has a plan. Either He changes it based on how many reverent words we repeat, or our prayers mean nothing at all.

The answer: We start with the words of Father Robert Barron: "God does not need us." He is completely happy, completely complete, on His own. But because He is perfection, He wants to share that perfection with more than just Himself. That is why He created us--to enjoy His greatness, and even share in it.

Now hold on for a second. Some of you are thinking, as I was once tempted to consider, that this is a pretty egotistical thing to do. Who does God think He is, to create a bunch of things whose sole purpose is to tell Him how awesome He is?

You'd be right, if God were not actually fully awesome. If we could imagine something or someone better than God, then we'd be right to criticize this notion of creating things just to share His glory.

But that's not God. When we say "God," we're talking about the one thing that has no equal, no competitor. Our very idea of perfection comes from Him. So the greatness of God is not negotiable. Were we to somehow experience it directly in full force, we would understand.

Okay, so God doesn't need us. This doesn't seem to be helping explain the case for why we pray, but it actually sets up the whole solution: God created the universe in such a way that prayer works. My praying for my sick brother may actually help him to be healed or eased of suffering. Realizing we have this kind of power is amazing. And the reason we have it is that this is the way that God invites us into the story.

In Disney World, there is a ride called Mission: Space, in which groups of four people take a "space shuttle ride" to Mars, seated in a high-tech cockpit with all sorts of illuminated buttons. Each rider is given a role in the mission, which requires them to press a certain button at a certain point in the ride. This aspect of the ride is completely unnecessary; Disney could have designed a space ride with no buttons, no interactivity at all. But including it makes the ride all the more enjoyable, because it sucks riders into the experience in an exciting way. By inviting us to pray for ourselves and other people and events, God is really drawing us deeper into the great human story.

How, then, is He an all-powerful and unchanging God, if the prayers of mere mortals can turn His ear? Well, the act of prayer is not to be understood as changing God's will to something different, but in bringing about what was already planned by God from the start. You say your friend was sick, but became healed after you prayed over him? Catholic faith says, not that your prayer meant nothing because God always planned to heal your friend, but that God always planned to heal your friend through your prayer. Yes, we actually believe that answered prayers are examples of God's power working through us, through our bodies, minds, and spirits all tuned in to the divine frequency. Pretty cool, eh?

Our prayers do not always conform to God's will, which is why they are not always answered. But that doesn't lessen the reality that prayer sometimes is answered, because it is part of God's plan. So if there's a problem, start praying about it--you could be part of the solution God has in mind!
Okay, so that brings us back to the initial question of intercession of the saints. Why? How is this not just some whitewashed form of ancestor-worship?

No offense, Mulan!

Simply this: who says that the power of prayer should cease when a person dies? Should it not actually work quite the opposite way? Ask me to pray for your ailing cousin now, and I'll squeeze him in between my drive home from work and my dinner--if I don't put other things ahead of praying. But sometimes I do, because I'm a human being living a life full of distractions and temptations.

After I'm dead, though (assuming I'm not roasting on a hot stove somewhere), my schedule will be freer, my priorities considerably straighter. Why would you think a dead person's capacity to pray for your intentions is diminished by earthly death?

I ask this not to mock you, but myself. For far too long I left this question unanswered and allowed the uncomfortable silence to be filled by the skeptic. I am glad to finally be able to shut him up.