Augustine on Devotion to the Saints

Doing the Office of Readings for today, I found an excellent selection from St. Augustine on the distinguishing the difference between honoring the saints and giving worship to God.  For those without access to the Liturgy of the Hours, you can go here to see the reading in question [though the site uses a different version of the psalms].

(Faustus was a Manichean who accused the Church of things like idolatry and pointed to abuses within the Church as if they were the belief of the Church).

I share this because I think it is relevant today given the misunderstanding which exists over how Catholics honor saints.

Reading
The treatise of St Augustine against Faustus

We celebrate the martyrs with love and fellowship

We, the Christian community, assemble to celebrate the memory of the martyrs with ritual solemnity because we want to be inspired to follow their example, share in their merits, and be helped by their prayers. Yet we erect no altars to any of the martyrs, even in the martyrs’ burial chapels themselves.

No bishop, when celebrating at an altar where these holy bodies rest, has ever said, “Peter, we make this offering to you,” or “Paul, to you,” or “Cyprian, to you.” No, what is offered is offered always to God, who crowned the martyrs. We offer in the chapels where the bodies of those he crowned rest, so the memories that cling to those places will stir our emotions and encourage us to greater love both for the martyrs whom we can imitate and for God whose grace enables us to do so.

So we venerate the martyrs with the same veneration of love and fellowship that we give to the holy men of God still with us. We sense that the hearts of these latter are just as ready to suffer death for the sake of the Gospel, and yet we feel more devotion toward those who have already emerged victorious from the struggle. We honour those who are fighting on the battlefield of this life here below, but we honour more confidently those who have already achieved the victor’s crown and live in heaven.

But the veneration strictly called “worship,” or latria, that is, the special homage belonging only to the divinity, is something we give and teach others to give to God alone. The offering of a sacrifice belongs to worship in this sense (that is why those who sacrifice to idols are called idol-worshippers), and we neither make nor tell others to make any such offering to any martyr, any holy soul, or any angel. If anyone among us falls into this error, he is corrected with words of sound doctrine and must then either mend his ways or else be shunned.

The saints themselves forbid anyone to offer them the worship they know is reserved for God, as is clear from the case of Paul and Barnabas. When the Lycaonians were so amazed by their miracles that they wanted to sacrifice to them as gods, the apostles tore their garments, declared that they were not gods, urged the people to believe them, and forbade them to worship them.

Yet the truths we teach are one thing, the abuses thrust upon us are another. There are commandments that we are bound to give; there are breaches of them that we are commanded to correct, but until we correct them we must of necessity put up with them.

Augustine on Devotion to the Saints

Doing the Office of Readings for today, I found an excellent selection from St. Augustine on the distinguishing the difference between honoring the saints and giving worship to God.  For those without access to the Liturgy of the Hours, you can go here to see the reading in question [though the site uses a different version of the psalms].

(Faustus was a Manichean who accused the Church of things like idolatry and pointed to abuses within the Church as if they were the belief of the Church).

I share this because I think it is relevant today given the misunderstanding which exists over how Catholics honor saints.

Reading
The treatise of St Augustine against Faustus

We celebrate the martyrs with love and fellowship

We, the Christian community, assemble to celebrate the memory of the martyrs with ritual solemnity because we want to be inspired to follow their example, share in their merits, and be helped by their prayers. Yet we erect no altars to any of the martyrs, even in the martyrs’ burial chapels themselves.

No bishop, when celebrating at an altar where these holy bodies rest, has ever said, “Peter, we make this offering to you,” or “Paul, to you,” or “Cyprian, to you.” No, what is offered is offered always to God, who crowned the martyrs. We offer in the chapels where the bodies of those he crowned rest, so the memories that cling to those places will stir our emotions and encourage us to greater love both for the martyrs whom we can imitate and for God whose grace enables us to do so.

So we venerate the martyrs with the same veneration of love and fellowship that we give to the holy men of God still with us. We sense that the hearts of these latter are just as ready to suffer death for the sake of the Gospel, and yet we feel more devotion toward those who have already emerged victorious from the struggle. We honour those who are fighting on the battlefield of this life here below, but we honour more confidently those who have already achieved the victor’s crown and live in heaven.

But the veneration strictly called “worship,” or latria, that is, the special homage belonging only to the divinity, is something we give and teach others to give to God alone. The offering of a sacrifice belongs to worship in this sense (that is why those who sacrifice to idols are called idol-worshippers), and we neither make nor tell others to make any such offering to any martyr, any holy soul, or any angel. If anyone among us falls into this error, he is corrected with words of sound doctrine and must then either mend his ways or else be shunned.

The saints themselves forbid anyone to offer them the worship they know is reserved for God, as is clear from the case of Paul and Barnabas. When the Lycaonians were so amazed by their miracles that they wanted to sacrifice to them as gods, the apostles tore their garments, declared that they were not gods, urged the people to believe them, and forbade them to worship them.

Yet the truths we teach are one thing, the abuses thrust upon us are another. There are commandments that we are bound to give; there are breaches of them that we are commanded to correct, but until we correct them we must of necessity put up with them.

Why Indeed?

One of the trends I have noticed among the more traditionalist minded Catholics is a sense of malaise about the Church they are in.  They look at the problems of the Church today, they look to the decline of vocations, they look to the scandals… and they complain about how "The Church" does nothing whatsoever about it.

They ask why nobody is doing anything about it.

I was struck with how odd this looks when we look at the saints of the Church in times when we had these exact problems of another century.

In my Lives of the Saints book, I was reading of St. Godfrey, Bishop of Amiens, who lived in the eleventh century AD.  When he entered the religious life, there was a strong decline of vocations, there was moral laxity among the faithful and among the religious.  Some religious and clergy were failing to live up to their vows.

So what did he do?  He went to work restoring the Church in the area he lived in, restoring discipline, making his own life an example of the holiness he preached.

Today, many look at the problems of the Church and they ask "Why does not God send saints to bring about reform?"

To which I think the counter question could be asked:

Why are we not seeking to be saints, serving Christ's Church from our love of God?

Why indeed?

This is a little story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job.

Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done