The Saints Come Marching In

I've always felt a sign of a healthy marriage is robust theological debate.

My wife and I are both Catholic...we're on the same team, which makes debating relatively unoffensive, but nonetheless we can often find areas of disagreement within our own faith. It's fun. We both seem to enjoy it.

One such area of debate is prayer. Laurie grew up on priveleged (and expensive) Catholic schooling, so she is well versed in the concept of praying to Patron Saints. It doesn't matter the problem, she knows she is always one Google search away from finding the proper prayer channel. An engine malfunction indicator light on the car dashboard? No problem, just Google the Patron Saint of Automobiles and instantly prayers can be expedited for a speedy, uncostly repair job. Turns out it was just a loose gas cap...$8.99 at Auto Zone. A big math test for our math-challenged oldest son? No problem, just Google the Patron Saint of Students (Thomas Aquinas) and instantly she knows someone is looking out for him, filling his brain with math knowledge. He got an 88 on the test, thanks Tom! Can't find the car keys? St. Anthony will turn your house inside out to find them. And when Google fails to find a specific patron Saint, there's always the fallback, Saint Jude, the Patron Saint of Lost Causes and Hopeless Cases. Laurie has abused poor Saint Jude over the years. He must roll his eyes anytime he gets a call from my wife, and whisper to the other Saints, "Hmmm...looks like yet another Lost Cause for the Galucki family...BIG surprise!". Some people think Laurie's frequent calling upon Saint Jude inspired the Beatles classic hit, "Hey Jude". It didn't...Laurie was 3 months old when that song came out. Fortunately the Saints have not unionized yet, otherwise their rates would be off the charts, considering weekends, holidays and time-and-a-half. Of course, Laurie doesn't limit herself to merely reaching out to the Saints. She calls on Mary for the big stuff, like when she needs nice weather for a big event, often hanging a Rosary in a tree outside. Our non-Catholic friends think we're crazy. We find ourselves constantly explaining ourselves.

Whereas I grew up on secular (and cheap) public schooling, so my prayer philoshophy is less complicated. I've never been comfortable with the idea of bothering the Saints with all my petty problems. I've always felt that as long as I have a roof over my head, food for my family, and good health...I really don't have anything to pray for. It's not that I don't think my prayers would be answered, it's more about the fact that I'm a guy, and guys don't like asking for help...just like we don't like asking for directions. It's in our DNA. And besides that, it gets confusing. When do you call on the Saints versus, you know, The Big Cheese, Mr. Head Honcho? Where does Mary fall into all this? If you're praying for someone to have a safe trip, is it better to call on St. Christopher, Patron Saint of Travelers, or go directly to God? Would God feel slighted if you didn't go directly to the top? Would he wonder, "What Am I, Chopped Liver?" Is there some sort of Prayer Quota? If it's exceeded, what happens? The confusion of it all can be discouraging.

And then last weekend the Saints won the Super Bowl. Just when I was about to give up on the whole "praying to the Saints" thing, my faith was restored. If the Saints can do that for New Orleans, what CAN"T they do for the rest of us? Now I'm back on the Saints bandwagon. Since I'm travelling this weekend and will be away from my wife on that famous Hallmark holiday, I guess my next visit is with St. Valentine. And if that doesn't work out well for me, next month I'll probably raise a toast to St. Patrick!