Following is a personal reflection prompted by the recent exposition of relics of Padre Pio at the local Roman Catholic Cathedral. The Anglican Formularies, particularly the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion, take a strong stance against the sixteenth century “Romish” practice of adoration of such things. The language of the Articles is often a bit polemical, reflecting the times in which they were written and the mutual hostility between Canterbury and Rome. We do not live in the sixteenth century and our concerns and “battles” are not necessarily the same as theirs. But, make no mistake: the Articles do express “the Anglican response to certain doctrinal issues controverted at that time (1571), and [express] fundamental principles of authentic Anglican belief.” As importantly, they call Anglicans to faithfulness in our time, which requires great discernment in light of Scripture and Tradition to critique our culture — spiritual and “secular” — rightly.

ARTIFACT, TALISMAN, SACRAMENTAL

I live within easy walking distance of a Roman Catholic Cathedral: just around the cul-de-sac, up five or six flagstone steps, across the parking lot, through the doors, and I am surrounded by the beauty of holiness and the holiness of beauty. Yesterday, the cathedral hosted a traveling exposition of first and second order relics of Padre Pio: a lock of hair, a bandage with the blood of the stigmata, a mantle worn by the saint. The cathedral was open all day for veneration of the relics by the faithful.

I could have walked there, but I didn’t. Some might commend me for shunning the exposition in accordance with the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion:

XXII. OF PURGATORY

The Romish Doctrine concerning Purgatory, Pardons, Worshipping, and Adoration, as well of Images as of Reliques, and also Invocation of Saints, is a fond thing vainly invented, and grounded upon no warranty of Scripture, but rather repugnant to the Word of God (BCP 2019, p. 780).

But, it wasn’t that article that made me forego the exposition. I simply have no great attraction to Padre Pio as many others do; he is not part of my faith tradition. And relic qua relic means nothing to me. Had these been relics of someone with whom I feel a spiritual affinity or even simple admiration, e.g. St. Francis, St. Benedict, St. Ignatius, or Mother Teresa, I most likely would have made the short trek to the cathedral. Would that have been skirting a violation of Article XXII? I think not, and my reasoning lies in the difference between artifact, talisman, and sacramental.

An artifact is simply a tangible, historical article: a dinosaur bone, a flint arrow, a painting, a handwritten document or perhaps the pen used to write it, a top hat. Artifacts are the stock-in-trade of museums. We view them from interest, but not generally from veneration, though the line is at times a bit unclear. When someone who holds Abraham Lincoln in high esteem visits a Lincoln museum and has a nearly “religious experience,” is that mere interest, devotion, or even veneration? Still, likely no one would protest a viewing of artifacts. One could have considered the Padre Pio relics as mere artifacts, though I suspect none of the faithful did so.

A talisman is altogether different. A talisman is akin to what we might call a “good luck charm,” an artifact that has power — in and of itself — to prosper and protect the one who uses it. A talisman harnesses spiritual power. Through ritual, a talisman compels a spiritual power — whether god, spirit, the universe — to act in a certain way; it intends to bend the will of the power to human will. A talisman is magic. The line between relic and talisman can be very fine, and, I suspect in popular religion, very porous. Did some who venerated the relics of Padre Pio toe the line of talisman? Probably, though unconsciously. Just to be clear, I accept the reality of talismans in a negative and harmful sense. Objects can be infused with spiritual power to do harm. Objects can be tangible artifacts through which hostile spiritual powers act for human destruction. Do not share the cup of demons, St. Paul warned, nor eat meat offered to idols.

Now, we come to sacramentals. A sacramental is a tangible artifact through which God has promised to work, or has shown himself to work, in a particular way to accomplish his will. It is a channel of grace, with grace understood as the presence and activity of God. These are certainly not “repugnant to the Word of God;” rather, Scripture is full of sacramentals:

2 Kings 13:20–21 (ESV): 20 So Elisha died, and they buried him. Now bands of Moabites used to invade the land in the spring of the year. 21 And as a man was being buried, behold, a marauding band was seen and the man was thrown into the grave of Elisha, and as soon as the man touched the bones of Elisha, he revived and stood on his feet.

John 9:1–7 (ESV): 9 As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3 Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work. 5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6 Having said these things, he spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud 7 and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing.

Acts 5:14–16 (ESV): 14 And more than ever believers were added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, 15 so that they even carried out the sick into the streets and laid them on cots and mats, that as Peter came by at least his shadow might fall on some of them. 16 The people also gathered from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing the sick and those afflicted with unclean spirits, and they were all healed.

Acts 19:11–12 (ESV): 11 And God was doing extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, 12 so that even handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were carried away to the sick, and their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.

The prophet’s bones, mud and saliva, shadows, sweaty headbands and work aprons from the apostle: all of these are sacramentals, tangible artifacts through which God made his presence and power known.

Such sacramentals are part-and-parcel of the faith and practice of the one holy, catholic and apostolic Church. A few examples are in order.

Before baptism, the priest prays over the water:

Now, Father, sanctify this water by the power of your Holy Spirit. May all who are baptized here be cleansed from sin, be born again, and continue for ever faithful in the risen life of Jesus Christ our Savior. To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit, be all honor an glory, now and for ever. Amen (BCP 2019, p. 168).

As part of the rite of healing, the priest may bless the oil used for anointing the sick:

O Lord, holy Father, giver of health and salvation: Send your Holy Spirit to sanctify this oil; that, as your holy apostles anointed many that were sick and healed them, so may those who in faith and repentance receive this holy unction be made whole; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen (BCP 1979, p. 455).

I have several Anglican rosaries made especially for me. I know that the tying of each knot or the threading of each bead was accompanied by prayers of blessing. These aids to prayer are sacramental.

Sacramentals are not talismans; they are not magic. They are not intended to bend the will of God to our human will. Rather, they are tangible means of receiving the blessings of God as and how and when he wills; they do not conform God to man, but rather man to God. And they are to be used by faith with thanksgiving.

Where do relics fall in this scheme? Certainly they are artifacts, though the faithful always consider them more than that. They may be seen by some, unfortunately, as talismans — “good luck charms,” protectors. That is not, of course, the doctrine of the Church. They may be, and sometimes have been, used by God as sacramentals, much as Elisha’s bones were.

Why do I write this? The Reformers rightly protested some abuses of medieval Catholicism, the financial abuse associated with relics among them. That is not what was occurring at the cathedral yesterday. The Reformers were also rightly concerned about the faithful crossing the line into idolatry or confusing honor, which may be shown to our brothers and sisters living or dead, with worship, which must be reserved for God alone. I doubt that was occurring at the cathedral yesterday; certainly it was not occurring intentionally. I suspect the Reformers were also concerned with superstition instead of sound theology, though I don’t know that they would have used that word.

So, though I find the Reformers’ concerns valid, I don’t live in the sixteenth century; I have a different set of concerns more germane, perhaps, to our cultural milieu: materialism — the “exorcism” of the spiritual from our conceptual understanding of the world, the reduction of all things to mere matter. In short, we have attempted to exile God from this material world in which we live, move, and have our being to the spiritual realm where God does whatever it is that God does. It is a militant form of deism: an absentee God, if God there be. What is necessary in our time, it seems, is a “re-enchantment” of the world, the right understanding of an imminent God who created/creates matter and uses it as a channel of his presence and power. Our culture has lost the sense of the sacramental world: of holy water, sacred time, blessed oil, burning bushes and holy ground; of incense and prayers rising together; of the light of Christ seen in the Paschal Candle and many others. We have replaced Creation with Nature and Providence with Natural Law. That is my concern. And so, every chance I get, I want to strike a blow against this flattened out, materialistic worldview. Sacramentals are simply one weapon in that fight.