They make no specific request. They simply say that they will speak of each other to God. (Maleldil is, in C.S. Lewis's space trilogy, the space-dwellers' name for God the Son.)
Compare that notion of prayer with this, from Letters to Malcolm:
Of course I pray for the dead. The action is so spontaneous, so all but inevitable, that only the most compulsive theological case against it would deter me. And I hardly know how the rest of my prayers would survive if those for the dead were forbidden. At our age the majority of those we love best are dead. What sort of intercourse with God could I have if what I love best were unmentionable to Him? (Letters to Malcolm, p. 106)Lewis goes on to state the argument against prayers for the dead that the dead are no longer on the road, no longer developing, that "progress and difficulty" are no longer possible for them, and that therefore there is nothing for which to pray for them. In response, he openly states that he believes in Purgatory, and he gives his own theory of what Purgatory is.
But I am interested still more in the paragraph I have just quoted. A couple of years ago when a person I had known only on-line died, I found that what Lewis says there is true. On the day after he had died I was praying, and it was virtually impossible not to speak to God of him and to ask...something. It was psychologically incredibly difficult to feel that there was literally no point in talking to God about him, and with fellow human beings, talking to God about someone invariably means some sort of petitionary prayer. I have had the same experience recently with a loved one who died.
How can one go from praying earnestly for those one loves to having nothing to say to God about them? It is true that, if one doesn't simply believe in Purgatory, as Lewis did, one isn't quite sure what to say to God about them. One is especially unsure what to request. A fragment from the Book of Common Prayer seems suitable and such as even a die-hard Protestant might not mind: "And we also bless Thy holy name for all Thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear, beseeching Thee that they may continually grow in Thy love and service." That'll work. "Continually grow in Thy love and service." This corresponds to a conjecture that Lewis makes on the way to his comments about Purgatory to the effect that even in heaven there might be a "perpetual increase in beatitude" gained by a process with its own "ardours and exertions."
I think, too, that it is possible to pray for someone without knowing precisely what to ask, leaving that in God's hands. It is in the realm of petitionary prayer for human beings that I feel most of all the truth of Romans 8:26-27: "For we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered." How often, when praying for the living, must we leave in God's hands what we should pray, realizing that what we would request spontaneously might not be best? Or, if a friend is no longer present, as in the case of someone who has moved to another state, we might literally not know their present needs, but we ask that God would do all for their good. Can this be extended to the dead? I believe that it can. As Lewis says, only the most compelling theological case that the dead have nothing whatsoever to gain or to do in the afterlife would convince me that it is pointless, at best, to pray for them. In that case, I suppose that the most one could do would be to bless the name of the Lord for them--i.e., to thank the Lord for them. But do we, even we Protestants, have such a compelling case that the blessed dead have nothing left to gain? I think that we do not. It is not necessary absolutely to believe that the dead still have growth before them to pray for them. It is necessary only to think that it might be so in order to pray that God would do all for them that can be done, that God would draw them ever-nearer to Himself, would give them in a continual outpouring of Himself that unimaginable (to us) increase of beatitude, knowledge, and understanding that is now proper to their state.
Notice, too, that a doctrine that Scripture contains all that we need for salvation (some version of sola scriptura) is consistent with such a practice. For it is not necessary to our or to their salvation that we should pray for them in this way. Nor is it necessary to our or to their salvation that we should refrain from praying for them in this way. We already know that Scripture leaves much of our curiosity unsatisfied concerning the afterlife for those who are saved. We are told that we will be with Christ, that this is far better. We are told that we will "know even as we are known." But the sum total is much less than we should like to know, which is, surely, exactly as God intended it.
Now I will push the argument in the other direction, which is yet more delicate.
But first, a pause for Protestantism: I am of the opinion that it is at least somewhat theologically problematic for us to ask the saints to pray for us, and especially for our particular needs and requests. I hope that is not offensive to my Catholic friends, but it seems to me that, to assume that the dead can hear our intercessions, that they know our present state on earth, and that they are speaking of it to God is to attribute to the dead something uncomfortably close to omniscience and to give to them something uncomfortably close to prayer. I will not say that prayers to the saints are definitely and intrinsically idolatrous, but I will say that I think they raise the danger of idolatry, for to treat the dead in this way is to treat them "too much" as we treat God--as an invisible Personage, far greater than ourselves, who can help us in our need, to whom we fly for refuge, who is always present to us, who knows our needs and what is best for us, and to whom we should cry out.
I also disagree with the idea, which I have often seen expressed by Catholics, that certain dead saints have special influence with God the Father or with Jesus Christ ("Doesn't it make sense to ask a man's mother to intercede with him for you?"), so that by going to them we are making our prayers more efficacious than they otherwise would be. This conveys a notion that seems to me theologically false and even unsavory--namely, a notion of needing to be "in with the in crowd" theologically rather than being loved fully by Our Lord oneself and being able and encouraged to approach Him directly with one's petitions. I note, too, that this notion of special "influence at court" is at odds with the other claim one sometimes sees--namely, that asking for the prayers of the saints is entirely unobjectionable because it is just like asking one's friends on earth to pray for one. But in fact, we don't believe that our ordinary friends on earth have this exalted "influence at court" in the heavenly realm, such as we are encouraged to think of the dead saints, especially certain ones like Mary, as having! So the two defenses of prayers to the saints are in conflict.
Having now (sad to say) probably thoroughly succeeded in offending my Catholic readers, I shall proceed, like a good via media Anglican, to try to offend my Protestant readers. All that I have just said notwithstanding, love between ourselves and others does not, cannot, cease simply because death intervenes. If someone loves you on earth, does he cease to love you because he dies and goes to heaven? God forbid. It seems rather that his capacity for love for other human beings should increase with his increased knowledge of Christ and union with Christ in heaven.
If, then, we find ourselves unable to stop praying for the dead simply because they are dead, since we still love them, might it not similarly be the case that the dead, at least those who have known and loved us on earth, find it impossible to stop praying for us? Just as we must speak to God of them, does it not seem plausible that they speak to God of us?
What remains is the question of what they know of us. Perhaps, as our knowledge of their state is blocked by the chasm of death, and we can pray for them only in the general terms suggested above, their knowledge of our situation is similarly blocked or greatly limited. They are finite beings, as we are, and we have no reason to believe that God has ordained that they shall have supernatural knowledge of all that is going on here on earth. As I already stated, to attribute that degree of knowledge to them seems to come uncomfortably close to making them demigods. Yet the blessed dead have no problem concerning us such as we have when praying for them--the problem of wondering whether there are difficulties still to face! They know quite well that we who are still in this vale of tears have many difficulties still to face, much sin in our nature, much needed growth, many dangers, toils, and snares ahead. On the other hand, it does not seem that the blessed dead should be able to experience worry or anxiety, which (one must admit) lies behind much of our own petitionary prayer.
So what would their prayers be like? Well, that is probably beyond our present ability to imagine. But, conjecturing, I envisage something like an outpouring of the entire self to God for the good of the other. We get a tiny glimpse of this in our own best prayers, perhaps for our children or for others whom, just occasionally, we begin to love with selflessness. And if such an outpouring is effective as prayer when uttered here on earth, why would it not have effect when uttered by one in heaven?
In other words, perhaps the dead really do pray for us effectually, and perhaps we really can pray for them effectually, even though we are absent from each other.
Imagine that someone whom you love has gone far away. He is still very much alive, and you know (in some way) that all is well with him, but you know very little else. He, in turn, knows that all may or may not be well with you, but he knows very little else of you. There is no Internet, no telephone, no physical mail. You are, in the ways of this world, separated from each other. Yet you both have the same Lord whom you love and to whom you pray. You have not ceased in love for one another. In those loves--for Our Lord and for each other--you are united despite the miles and limitations that come between you.
Might it not be, in some measure, like this with us Christians on earth and in heaven?
This is all conjecture, but it is conjecture befitting the season. If it is conjecture too timid for Catholic doctrine and too bold for Protestant doctrine, so be it.
I will only say this to those whom I love and who love me: Whether here on earth or absent from the body, speak of me always to Maleldil, as I will speak always of you.
For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confess,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest,
Alleluia! Alleluia!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Related post here.
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16 comments:
Excellent post. I have little to add except that I hope some other Anglican will read it and understand exactly what you're getting at without being in the least offended. :-)
I loved this, Lydia. Such beautiful and tender thoughts expressed.
Thanks to both for your comments.
Hi Lydia,
It was a pleasure to read your post, and there is much food for thought there. I'd just like to make a couple of points about Catholic doctrine.
You wrote: "it seems to me that, to assume that the dead can hear our intercessions, that they know our present state on earth, and that they are speaking of it to God is to attribute to the dead something uncomfortably close to omniscience and to give to them something uncomfortably close to prayer." I agree. But the Catholic Church does not teach that the dead have any natural knowledge of the affairs of the living. It was always my understanding that when I ask a dead person to pray for me, God makes that person aware of my petition. In other words, without God's supernatural intervention, that person would know nothing of my prayer.
You also wrote: "I also disagree with the idea, which I have often seen expressed by Catholics, that certain dead saints have special influence with God the Father or with Jesus Christ, ... so that by going to them we are making our prayers more efficacious than they otherwise would be." I agree with your sentiments here. However, the true Catholic understanding is not that certain saints have special influence with God; rather, it is that God listens to the prayers of the godly. After all, it is St. James who tells us that "the prayers of a just man availeth much" (5:16), and I presume that the same holds for the prayers of a just person who is deceased.
Thanks again for the article, Lydia.
Thanks, Vince,
I find that in all actual Catholic practice of which I am aware, including that by very educated and knowledgeable Catholics, the idea that God only supernaturally makes known our prayers to the saints is not maintained as a consistent implication. Much Catholic veneration of Mary, for example, calls upon her directly to help us or says that we fly to her in our trouble. This would make little sense if every fact in question--our specific trouble and our individual prayer--had to be made known to her on a case-by-case basis by God. (Who might or might not do it.) The very notion of seeking the _help_ of the saints gives the strong impression that they are, by the nature of their situation, in a position to help us.
A bit of liturgy in my own Anglican church that is mild enough makes the same implication. The bit of liturgy asks God "at the intercession of Mary, saint x, y, and z" to meet our requests. The only meaning one can give to this is that they are _already_ interceding for us and that we, in praying to God, are taking that for granted and drawing God's attention to it, asking God to grant our requests in part because we assume that the saints are interceding. This is, in implication, very different from implying that the saints know of our requests only if and when God tells them.
On God's granting the prayers of the godly, again, there is a far more _structured_ and hierarchical idea present in _all_ Catholic and high Anglican veneration of the saints that I am aware of. Mary is not just one godly woman among many to whom God gives special heed because she is godly. She is, as you know, venerated as the Queen of Heaven and with many other appellations. There is a well-developed theology of Mary. There is also an explicit process of canonization which gives, by implication, a specially high status to those who have been canonized.
I certainly agree that the less hierarchical notion that these are just godly people like one's godly grandmother is more defensible theologically, but it is not in fact what we find Catholic doctrine to be.
A couple of illustrations. Here are a couple of very ancient prayers to the Virgin Mary:
We fly to thy patronage,
O holy Mother of God;
despise not our petitions in our necessities,
but deliver us always from all dangers,
O glorious and blessed Virgin. Amen.
3rd Century; Oldest Known Prayer to Mary
Loving Mother of the Redeemer,
Gate of heaven, star of the sea,
Assist your people
who have fallen yet strive to rise again,
To the wonderment of nature you bore your Creator,
yet remained a virgin after as before,
You who received Gabriel's joyful greeting,
have pity on us, poor sinners.
Ancient Liturgy of the Hours Prayer\
Many, many more examples could be found. One would _never_ speak of asking for the prayers of a friend on earth, however godly, in those terms.
Imagine that Jones is a very godly man and that Smith is his less godly Christian friend. Smith has some problems in his life. One would never say to Smith, "Fly to Jones for refuge and ask him to deliver you from all dangers" meaning by that, "Ask Jones to pray for you." It wouldn't matter how great a person Jones was, how great a Christian, how much the passage in James could be presumed to apply to Jones. To talk about Jones in those terms would be to treat him as a superbeing or a magician, not just an especially godly man.
And all the more so if you were telling the person to do this by mental prayer, which God would convey to Jones in the form of some sort of supernaturally aided ESP.
If one asserts that the saints' knowledge of our prayers is made possible by divine miracle rather than being due to a natural power, but if all liturgical practice encourages people to *take it as a given* that they can speak from anywhere on earth to Mary or the other saints and be heard, then the term "miracle" is irrelevant to the impression given. This is a "miracle" that is always done by God and can be taken for granted in practice to be in force--they will hear your prayers. The effect of all of this is, unfortunately, very much what I felt bound to assert in the main post. I speak here as someone who once was more sympathetic to prayers for the saints.
IMO it would be better for Catholic apologists to bite the bullet. Instead of telling Protestants that it's just like asking a godly friend for prayers, which feels like a bait and switch in light of actual Catholic practice (not just of ignorant Catholics, but uniform and church-endorsed Catholic practice), it would be better just to say outright: There is an admittedly thin but bright line in Catholic theology between what we do w.r.t. the saints and worship. You Protestants should just get over your squeamishness over the thinness of that line, rely on its brightness, and cross the Tiber.
But "asking a godly friend for prayers" can be problematic too, right Lydia?
It can be like Simon asking Peter and John to repent of his simonry. Something that I wrote about here-
http://quizzingdv.blogspot.ca/2014/11/acts-7-and-pieces-of-8-buying-holy.html
Ron, I think the arguments that Jesus did not say, "Father, forgive them" are weak. I notice that you bring no similar textual arguments (even as far as they go) against the parallel passage in Stephen but merely suggest as sheer speculation that maybe Stephen didn't say it either! To me the textually independent evidence from Acts (since the intended question is not against the reliability of Luke as a recorder but rather concerns the textual transmission, these can be regarded as independent documents) of Stephen's words supports the authenticity of the passage in Luke.
I'm afraid that to me your post suggests rather simply a bias against the whole idea of praying for someone else's forgiveness, bolstered by weak suggestions of textual inauthenticity.
Don't misunderstand me. I agree that there are real theological questions that can be raised about what Jesus meant in his prayer and what Stephen took himself to be doing in his prayer. Simon Magus is, as you indicate, no authority theologically anyway! He's obviously very confused.
In any event, I don't think that it is a _general_ practice for Catholics or high Anglicans to pray to the saints specifically that they will ask God to forgive them. I see the problem more with prayers to them directly to _help_ the petitioner in some other way, which raises the problems I have discussed.
Thanks for your extra thoughts, Lydia.
Hi Lydia,
Great food for thought. I have provided a fairly lengthy Catholic response here:
http://socrates58.blogspot.com/2014/11/dialogue-with-anglican-on-praying-to.html
Cross-posted to Facebook (if you're on there):
https://www.facebook.com/dave.armstrong.798/posts/890071781027808
God bless you!
Dave
Thanks, Dave, I've responded at length at your page. God bless!
Lydia, I like a lot of what you say. Not all, certainly, but a lot.
Let me presage the rest of my remarks by admitting that there are Catholics whose actions are little better than superstitious reliance on magic. That said, I do think there is sound theology behind the official teachings and prayers of the Catholic Church.
Vince is quite right about the standard teaching that saints are aware of our petitions only by God's intervention. But this is dependent not only on God's willing that the saint learn "all the details" of our need, it is dependent on God enabling the saint to be aware of ANYTHING: at least in Scholastic theology, a deceased human is a spiritual reality only incompletely a "human being", because a human being is a soul / body composite by definition. And because the natural operation of the human mind depends on physical activities and faculties (such as the imagination). So even for a dead person to THINK requires an intervention by God supplying for defects otherwise blocking thought. Given that initial level of supernatural intervention, another in God providing a dead person with access to "what's going on" and a petitioner's request is not really as much of a stretch as you are making out. And "supernatural" here doesn't need to have the connotation of "miracle" that includes "unusual - apart from what usually takes place, both because there is no reason for the prayer to manifest to anyone as visibly unusual, and because the lack of a sense of unusual or extraordinary here is no different from every single act that is inspired by grace, i.e. every good act by a God-filled saintly person.
Mary, however, is a different case, on 2 counts. First, because she is assumed (by Catholics, at least - and all puns intended!) to be in heaven WITH her body, so that she is indeed a complete human being who can know things in the natural manner. Secondly, in Catholic theology we hold that God has deigned to allow Mary a kind of instrumental position in Heaven with regard to being a help to others that is consistent with the scope that her instrumentality on Earth in furthering the Economy of Salvation was by consenting to be the New Ark of the Son's Incarnation. (This instrumentality is wholly an effect of Jesus's sacrifice, and thus is due to God alone and not man, of course). This status is conferred on Mary as a creature, and Catholics ask it of her as a creature ONLY, so it should never fall over into worship.
My third point is that even in ordinary life we go to intercessors and intermediaries at different levels for different kinds of favors. We have all heard the phrase "it's not what you know, it's who you know" for finding a job, and my experience closely matches that. You would rather go use your relationship with a highly placed advisor to the head honcho than to a recently hired janitor to get a good job. On the other hand, you wouldn't use your relationship with the boss's barber (as a customer) to get an important position if you knew anyone actually in the company who knew something about what they did and your qualifications. We pick and choose our intercessors.
But the point of using saints as intercessors at all is as a sop to our human weakness: God knows all that we need before we ask for it, but (often) He won't grant it UNTIL we ask for it. And yet some people won't ask for it out of reticence to approach to the throne of God to ask for (seemingly) silly little favors or requests, because they don't feel right or ready to make that approach. True, we should feel ready. But we don't. So it is better to ask indirectly than not to ask at all, it is better to ask through a human friend than not to ask at all.
Tony, I find an interesting *rhetorical* tension (though probably not a logical tension) between your analogy of various levels of bosses, on the one hand, and your later statements that going to intermediaries is a sop to our human weakness, on the other.
My problem is that I think all of those analogies to intermediate bosses are rather seriously misleading theologically. It seems to me that they teach people that God really does have favorites in an all-too-human sense and that he can be "wangled," as it were, into doing things if you just "know the right people" and have them ask him instead of asking him yourself. Now that idea, taken literally, is _badly_ wrong theologically. Jesus says to his disciples, "The Father himself loveth you" and urges them repeatedly to pray to the father themselves. The author of Hebrews urges us to come boldly to the throne of grace. St. Paul says we have not received the spirit of fear but rather the spirit of adoption whereby we cry, "Abba, Father." So this whole idea that we really do *need* to approach God only through "higher-up bosses" who "have his ear" is rather seriously unbiblical.
Hence, any practice which _fosters_ that idea rather than countering it is, to my mind, theologically wrong-headed. We should be telling people, "No way! It's entirely disrespectful both to God and to the saints to think of them as being like courtly insiders whose ear you have to get in order to wangle your requests from the Big Guy, rather than approaching him yourself. Your relationship with God isn't like that at all!"
I'm not counseling being flippant with God. But I am saying that we are supposed to have with God the rightful kind of respectful intimacy that a beloved son has with his father. Such a father would, I believe, be rightly hurt if one son said that he sent another son with his request instead of coming himself because he thought that gave him a better chance of getting what he was asking for, or because he was reluctant to come himself.
So the saints cannot _really_ be like that, and God cannot _really_ be like that. Hence, I don't think we should make a sop to those particular ways of thinking but rather should counter them in our teaching.
Tony, I find an interesting *rhetorical* tension (though probably not a logical tension) between your analogy of various levels of bosses, on the one hand, and your later statements that going to intermediaries is a sop to our human weakness, on the other.
My problem is that I think all of those analogies to intermediate bosses are rather seriously misleading theologically. It seems to me that they teach people that God really does have favorites in an all-too-human sense and that he can be "wangled," as it were, into doing things if you just "know the right people" and have them ask him instead of asking him yourself. Now that idea, taken literally, is _badly_ wrong theologically. Jesus says to his disciples, "The Father himself loveth you" and urges them repeatedly to pray to the father themselves. The author of Hebrews urges us to come boldly to the throne of grace. St. Paul says we have not received the spirit of fear but rather the spirit of adoption whereby we cry, "Abba, Father." So this whole idea that we really do *need* to approach God only through "higher-up bosses" who "have his ear" is rather seriously unbiblical.
Hence, any practice which _fosters_ that idea rather than countering it is, to my mind, theologically wrong-headed. We should be telling people, "No way! It's entirely disrespectful both to God and to the saints to think of them as being like courtly insiders whose ear you have to get in order to wangle your requests from the Big Guy, rather than approaching him yourself. Your relationship with God isn't like that at all!"
I'm not counseling being flippant with God. But I am saying that we are supposed to have with God the rightful kind of respectful intimacy that a beloved son has with his father. Such a father would, I believe, be rightly hurt if one son said that he sent another son with his request instead of coming himself because he thought that gave him a better chance of getting what he was asking for, or because he was reluctant to come himself.
So the saints cannot _really_ be like that, and God cannot _really_ be like that. Hence, I don't think we should make a sop to those particular ways of thinking but rather should counter them in our teaching.
they teach people that God really does have favorites in an all-too-human sense
Well, that part of your comment I can respond to directly: God DOES have favorites. That's exactly what it means to say that God makes some greater and some lesser. God chooses to make some prophets the "Great" prophets, and some the lesser prophets. He chooses to make Abraham the father of nations and others not.
Admittedly, this alone is not the same "all too human sense" that you mention. For one thing, God is the initiator who is the cause of one being greater than another, rather than God being "pushed" into it by one being "more lovable". If Jacob is more lovable than Esau, God is at the source of that difference, for we can say of everything that Jacob has and is, "what has he that he hath not received?" But it is inescapable that God designed the whole universal order so that some would be greater and some lesser, and of the greater they are more loved and more lovable precisely because God intended it so. He favored them more.
and that he can be "wangled," as it were, into doing things
But this is just exactly the objection people have to prayers of petition to begin with: "God knows what I need and what I want even better than I do, AND He wants my good even more than I do, so He should and will grant to me what is good whether I ask for it or not" The problem is that God also wants the asking. The asking, itself, is part of the good He desires for us, because it requires that we learn humility in a more complete and/or more certain way. This is why Jesus commanded that we make prayers of petition.
"wangled," as it were, into doing things if you just "know the right people" and have them ask him instead of asking him yourself.
Maybe, maybe not. Under the old law God designed Israel to practice worship of sacrifices where the people brought their sacrifices to the priest, and the priest would be the one to perform the ritual. God chose to work sanctification through human intermediaries, and specific ones at that: not just anyone could be a priest. Same with God using Moses as his messenger...and Moses using Aaron as his spokesman...and...(it's all over the place).
I am saying that we are supposed to have with God the rightful kind of respectful intimacy that a beloved son has with his father.
Agreed. And I think that this intimacy is far more to be sought than finding "just the right saint" to intercede. This intimate union with God is the "pearl of great price", the "one thing necessary" in this life. So, somehow, we have to try to understand a theological framework in which God greatly desires that intimacy, and yet He designs a temporal order in which He commands us to accept the instrumentality of intermediaries in our pilgrimage toward holiness. Why does He do the latter? We can't say we know perfectly and completely, but one answer that springs to mind is that He appears to have designed the order of creation so that He can give to us a participatory causality in the salvation of others - i.e. He raises us to the dignity to His co-operating partners in His work of salvation. (A dignity that we have solely because we have received it from Him, so that He is, always, the one cause from whom springs all of our good, of course).
Another answer (as suggested above) is that this acceptance of human intermediaries fosters a certain humility that is good for us. If I am sick, I could pray to God that I get well without seeking the help of doctors. God could even make me better through natural causes so that there was no implication of my seeking miraculous events rather than natural ones. But it is foolish of me to expect God to operate so without any effort of my own to involve others in my betterment - that's not the way He expects us to act. So, too, at least with SOME aspects of the spiritual order, He expects us to allow for the help of other humans in our growing toward that perfect intimacy of union with Him. And thus accepting the role of others helping me is part of my learning humility.
All of which does not seem to imply that a person would be remiss by going directly to God instead of using intermediaries when He has not so commanded. So, seeking the intercession of saints in heaven is not generally under any commandment, but allowing for the help of persons here on Earth is not optional (for example, the first Christians of necessity had to rely on the activity of the Apostles for (a) the laying on of hands, and (b) the authentic handing on the "Good News" of the gospels in definitive form. Not just anyone could formulate and "approve" the stories of Jesus that would become the canonical works of Scripture. Not just anyone could do the sanctifying performance of the worship as "in remembrance of Me", or the laying on of hands. And so for certain parts of our passage toward holiness, God has definitively commanded that we accept the role of human intermediaries. There is nothing improper in supposing that there could be, in between the areas of our lives where there are those whom we MUST turn to for certain works, and areas of our lives (intimate prayer directly with God) in which the presence of others cannot but be a hindrance, middle areas where the help of others CAN be of assistance but is in no way definitively necessary. And thinking of the saints as included in that body of "persons who may be helpful to us" can have a salutary effect on our thinking - it expands our day-to-day thinking into the afterlife as connected to this life very closely, for example.
So this whole idea that we really do *need* to approach God only through "higher-up bosses" who "have his ear" is rather seriously unbiblical.
And that's perhaps why asking the intercession of the saints is in no way commanded. It is in no wise taught that access to God must be through just the right saint, or anything like that. Jesus alone is the Intercessor who died for us, in His name alone do we pray to the Father. Thus we do not "pray to" the saints in the same sense in which we pray to God, we ASK OF the saints that they pray to God just as we ask of our fellow Christians. But doing so of the saints engenders something that doesn't happen when we ask our neighbor: The saints have handed on to us their own form of prayers to God. And when we pray to the saints we tend to learn those saints own ways of speaking to God. Now, everyone can use their own way of speaking to God, but part of becoming holy is becoming "of like mind with God", which means, more or less, thinking like God thinks. St. Paul tells us the Holy Spirit Himself will teach us to pray rightly: well, He did just that in the lives of the saints, so learning to speak the language of the saints is kind of like learning the language natural to Heaven - which is part and parcel with learning to think like God thinks.
Necessary? No, not strictly speaking. Useful? Yes, for some, at times.
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