TBH, I really don’t think about them that much. to the extent that I do, I think of them as basically interesting fictional characters, but whether people once considered them real is not of much interest to me. Few if any do so now, and my feeling is that a religion that died out along the way lacked some fundamental robustness that religions that have stood the test of time possess. It might as well have been no more than fiction.
That’s a different take than I assume an atheist would have, since I assume an atheist would regard Christianity or Hinduism as no more than fiction, regardless of their ability to continue to have adherents many centuries after their origins.
So you’re saying that praying to a saint is really just asking the saint to pray for you, and isn’t any different from asking Joe Blow down the street to pray for you, as long as Joe is a practicing Catholic.
Nothing wrong with that.
Just like any other believer, on Earth or in Heaven, right?
But don’t saints have to be associated with miracles in some way, shape, or form, in order to be officially beatified (if that’s the right word)? Either they had to commit a miracle themselves, or something miraculous had to happen to others who prayed to them before they were officially saints?
I mean, sure, all miracles ultimately come from God, but if you’ve been the conduit for miracles, if you will, I’d certainly rather have you praying for me (whether you’re in this life or the next) than Joe Blow down the street. Your prayers would strike me as having a bit more oomph to them than those of Joe Blow.
There are two different things here: Becoming a saint and being canonized (being beatified is one of the steps in the process of being canonized). The way you become a saint, is you go to Heaven. That’s it. Most Catholics will tell you that their loved ones are already saints, and they may well be. What’s necessary for going to Heaven? Ask God that question.
But then there are some individuals for which the Church has said that the Church knows for sure that they’re in Heaven. That’s canonization: Literally, it means they’re on the list. And yes, being associated with miracles is part of that process.
But you can still pray to people who aren’t on that official Church list, in hopes that they’re already in Heaven (and just not yet recognized as such). In fact, that’s pretty fundamental to the process of canonization, because that’s how dead folks usually get associated with miracles.
Why would you pray to someone who’s not on the list, as opposed to a proven and canonized saint? Maybe they seem better suited for what you’re praying for than any on the standard list. Maybe you know them, indirectly or even directly (they might be a relative, for instance). Maybe you just like helping the canonization process.
I’d be cautious framing it this way when describing Jewish and Muslim beliefs. Saying Jews and Muslims reject the divinity of Christ normalizes Christ’s divinity and places Jews and Muslims in opposition to that. Better is to say Jews and Muslims don’t believe in Christ’s divinity, as it’s centering the Jewish and Muslim belief, which is more appropriate when describing those beliefs. Given the Christian-normativity that is prevalent in our culture, it’s can be hard to see the impact certain phrasing can have on the minority culture.
In other words, as a Jew, I never rejected Christ’s divinity. I gave little to no thought to Christ’s divinity because I don’t believe in Christ’s divinity any more than I believe in Thor.
This isn’t meant as a criticism and there’s no offense taken, but something to think about, perhaps.
I think in the Mediterranean area in ancient times this kind of thing was just accepted as business as usual. Those who could raid and take what they want from others will raid and take what they will from others. In The Iliad, Hector returns from battle and spends some time with his infant son Scamandrius voicing his fears that should the walls of Ilium fall he wife will work the loom in another man’s household and his son will be murdered, Hector doesn’t lament that this is morally wrong, and in fact wishes for Scamandrius to be an even greater warrior than Hector. In other words, he wants Scamandrius to kill others and bring their wives and daughters to his household to work his looms.
This is a fair point. However, @Saintly_Loser said that Jews and Muslims reject claims of divinity for Jesus. The statement implies nothing about the truth of those claims.
That really isn’t a difference with respect to my point, it’s not about accuracy or what’s believed to be true, it’s about default positions. This is one of those where unless you’ve lived the minority experience (and maybe you have- no idea), it can be hard to see. But I don’t want to hijack this thread.
Same here. In the early days the existence of other gods was accepted. We just were not to worship them. However the existence of demigods whose mother was mortal and father a god was a Greek/Roman idea, not a Jewish one.
Alexander the Great claimed to be of divine descent, for instance.
So the list of RCC-canonized persons is just a list of a few hundred people they’re absitively, posilutely are in Heaven, when surely tens or hundreds of millions are there? Your explanation makes it seem like an exercise in branding more than anything else.
Especially given the recent horse-trading which you tell me now means that conservatives in the Roman Catholic Church were unwilling to admit that Pope John XXIII was saved unless the same was said about Pope John Paul II at the same time. I mean, seriously, what the fucking fuck?! I was cynical enough about that transaction before, but now that you’ve explained its true meaning, you’ve multiplied it by 100.
And of course, the whole notion is certainly quite a testimony that Catholics believe the Big Guy can’t be directly known until you’re in Heaven, or at least it’s the territory of saints and mystics, not ordinary people. Because if you know the Lord, why would you pray to St. Christopher or whoever?
It also speaks to a much more superficial understanding of prayer than I’m used to: because what it means, in my life, is being consciously in or at least intentionally open to the presence of God. I have no experience of being in the presence of any deceased saints, and what would be the point anyway?
Of course, this is me, a Protestant* and born-again Christian talking. But you’re making the whole Roman Catholic thing sound a lot more convoluted and senseless than my previous conception of it.
*The key here being Luther’s notion of priesthood of the believer. We don’t need no stinkin’ intermediaries.
Thanks for the education - I’ll admit that I know next to nothing about Hinduism. I’d assumed that its gods - Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, and all - were an integral part of the belief system, but sometimes one’s assumptions are based on ignorance. Apparently for me, this is one of those times.
In Hinduism, the emphasis is on seeking rather than believing. If having sought, belief is what one settles on : then that is fine for that individual. Some may choose atheism still others may chose agnosticism and that’s fine for those individuals too.
Some people bypass all the seeking and settle on belief and you are absolutely correct that they have elaborate mythical gods like Brahma, Vishnu… Some settle on worshipping nature, some on animals …it’s all good.
There is no one size fits all in the loosely defined logic / philosophical system. And everything I said maybe refuted by another Hindu and debated further.
In Judaism, the emphasis is on doing, not believing. And it’s a much larger problem to worship false gods than to be an atheist. I’ve known a few Orthodox Jews who confessed to me (a Reform Jew) that they didn’t actually believe in God. But they were comfortable following all the rules and traditions of their Orthodox communities. “Do you actually believe this stuff?” just isn’t a question anyone ever asked them.
I asked one of them how common he thought it was for Orthodox Jews to be atheists, and he said he thought it was fairly common.
Years ago, when my mother was president of our (Reform) temple, she spoke on Yom Kippur about what Judaism meant to her, an atheist. She said the rabbi asked for a copy of her talk to keep by his desk, because half of the congregants were atheists, and he wanted to be reminded to speak to them, too, when he wrote sermons.
I came out as an atheist in my Bar Mitzvah speech in 1958. It caused quite an uproar, and my father was absolutely furious with me. But the rabbi loved it and tried (unsuccessfully) to calm him down.
Genesis 6:1–4 tells the readers that the Nephilim, which means “fallen ones” when translated into English, were the product of copulation between the divine beings (lit. sons of god) and human women (lit. daughters of Adam). The Nephilim are known as great warriors and Biblical giants (see Ezekiel 32:27 and Numbers 13:33).
