IF you grew up in a Christian Tradition which did not pray for the departed, the practice may seem rather strange. What do these prayers accomplish, after all? Aren’t they already with God? Surely the Anglicans do not believe in purgatory! Similarly, if you grew up within the Anglican or Episcopal Tradition, you may have prayed for the dead your entire life without knowing why. In fact, the latter is more common in my experience than the former. So why do we do it? Why are there so many prayers for the departed in the Book of Common Prayer? The answer to this question – like most questions posed in theology – is multifaceted. However, here are some of the basic reasons why Christians have always prayed for those who have gone to be with God:
First and foremost, you already pray for the departed. Believe it or not, no matter what Christian Tradition you have come from, you have already prayed for the departed and have likely done it your entire life. Think for a moment: what is the most common Christian prayer? “Our Father, who art in heaven…” – what does this prayer contain? Well, we pray for God’s name to be hallowed, we pray for our daily bread, we pray for our sins, and we pray for God’s kingdom to come. This last petition is significant. Why? Well, because the heralding of God’s kingdom affects the souls of the departed just as much as it affects you or me. The same is true when we pray “Maranatha” (1 Corinthians 16:22) or “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20) The coming of our blessed Lord is a universal event which has a direct impact on the living and the dead alike. The coming of our Lord is monumental for both the Saints in glory and the Saints on earth. You see, there are some prayers that are so universal that they touch both the earthly and the departed. In fact, St. Paul seems to indicate that the coming of our Lord is more significant to those who have died than to the living when he writes: “For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thessalonians 4:15) There is a certain deference paid to those who have already passed. So then, when we pray for the coming of that great day we are in some sense praying for the departed more than the living as they will precede us – they will experience the benefit of our prayers before we do. The fact of the matter is that whether or not we intend to, whenever we pray these things we are also praying directly for our departed brothers and sisters just as much as – if not more than – we are praying for ourselves. When we pray for the Departed from the Prayerbook, we are only making explicit what all Christians already pray implicitly.
Secondly, the Faithful Departed pray for themselves. St. John records in his Revelation: “I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, ‘O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?’” (Revelation 6:9-10) The souls of the righteous martyrs cry out for vengeance before Almighty God. Holy Scripture reminds us in several places that the blood of Abel still speaks. He together with all of the faithful slain “of whom the world was not worthy” (Hebrews 11:38) are crying out to God and making petitions before Him from under His throne. So we see clearly that the Saints in glory are praying. These prayers too are not merely doxological praises sung to God, but they are praying for themselves. If the Saints can pray for themselves, then surely we can pray for them too. We simply join them in the petitions that they are already making on their own behalf.
A third minor point is that it appears that St. Paul prays for the dead explicitly in his Second Epistle to St. Timothy. St. Paul prays for his friend Onesiphorus: “may the Lord grant him to find mercy from the Lord on that day!” (2 Timothy 1:18) It is quite likely that Onesiphorus is dead in this passage and St. Paul is commending his soul to Almighty God. This reading of the text may come as a surprise to some, but this is not a particularly “Catholic” reading, but quite at home within classical Protestantism. In fact, the great Presbyterian Theologian Philip Schaff writes confidently: “this would, of course, be a prayer for the dead.” Now, this text does not explicitly tell us whether or not Onesiphorus is dead, but it does seem to imply it. When this is taken with the fact that at the time it was common to pray for the departed within the Synagogue, it becomes quite likely that this is precisely what St. Paul is doing: praying for his beloved friend who had gone to be with the Lord.
A final word: these brief explanations will hopefully have demonstrated that there is ample Biblical evidence for praying for the departed. It is not merely a sentimental practice in order to achieve a sense of catharsis amidst our grieving. It is founded upon certain beliefs that Christians have held for quite a long time. That said, I also recognize that I haven’t given any explanation as to what our prayers are accomplishing. The question I get asked the most about our prayers is “what do they do?” I understand the sentiment and empathize. We are Twenty-First Century persons and it is hard for us not to think in terms of cause and effect. Here’s what I’ll say: we have a deficient view of prayer. In our daily experiences, we most often find ourselves crying out to God by way of deficiency. What I mean is that it is when I sin, hurt, or lack that I pray for myself. We are accustomed to praying when need arises and not really for much else. For us, progress in the Christian life is from sin to holiness. But what if this is not the only kind of progress there is? What if one can leap “from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Corinthians 3:18) The scriptures have told us of another kind of progress; a journey from good to good; from God to God. This was true of our first parents in the Garden of Eden. They were not crushed under the weight of sin, but they were imperfect. There was still much for them to accomplish and new heights to achieve. They had not fulfilled their divine mandate, after all. For them, their progress was to be from good to better; to someday eat from the tree of life. Similarly, we may think of the Saints in bliss, but it is an imperfect bliss as they await the final consummation of the last Great Day. They are with the Lord, but they are not yet like the Lord. They are still awaiting the recreation of all things and the glory of their incorruptible bodies. While they await that day – while they journey – we may and ought to pray for them.
First and foremost, you already pray for the departed. Believe it or not, no matter what Christian Tradition you have come from, you have already prayed for the departed and have likely done it your entire life. Think for a moment: what is the most common Christian prayer? “Our Father, who art in heaven…” – what does this prayer contain? Well, we pray for God’s name to be hallowed, we pray for our daily bread, we pray for our sins, and we pray for God’s kingdom to come. This last petition is significant. Why? Well, because the heralding of God’s kingdom affects the souls of the departed just as much as it affects you or me. The same is true when we pray “Maranatha” (1 Corinthians 16:22) or “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20) The coming of our blessed Lord is a universal event which has a direct impact on the living and the dead alike. The coming of our Lord is monumental for both the Saints in glory and the Saints on earth. You see, there are some prayers that are so universal that they touch both the earthly and the departed. In fact, St. Paul seems to indicate that the coming of our Lord is more significant to those who have died than to the living when he writes: “For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thessalonians 4:15) There is a certain deference paid to those who have already passed. So then, when we pray for the coming of that great day we are in some sense praying for the departed more than the living as they will precede us – they will experience the benefit of our prayers before we do. The fact of the matter is that whether or not we intend to, whenever we pray these things we are also praying directly for our departed brothers and sisters just as much as – if not more than – we are praying for ourselves. When we pray for the Departed from the Prayerbook, we are only making explicit what all Christians already pray implicitly.
Secondly, the Faithful Departed pray for themselves. St. John records in his Revelation: “I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, ‘O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?’” (Revelation 6:9-10) The souls of the righteous martyrs cry out for vengeance before Almighty God. Holy Scripture reminds us in several places that the blood of Abel still speaks. He together with all of the faithful slain “of whom the world was not worthy” (Hebrews 11:38) are crying out to God and making petitions before Him from under His throne. So we see clearly that the Saints in glory are praying. These prayers too are not merely doxological praises sung to God, but they are praying for themselves. If the Saints can pray for themselves, then surely we can pray for them too. We simply join them in the petitions that they are already making on their own behalf.
A third minor point is that it appears that St. Paul prays for the dead explicitly in his Second Epistle to St. Timothy. St. Paul prays for his friend Onesiphorus: “may the Lord grant him to find mercy from the Lord on that day!” (2 Timothy 1:18) It is quite likely that Onesiphorus is dead in this passage and St. Paul is commending his soul to Almighty God. This reading of the text may come as a surprise to some, but this is not a particularly “Catholic” reading, but quite at home within classical Protestantism. In fact, the great Presbyterian Theologian Philip Schaff writes confidently: “this would, of course, be a prayer for the dead.” Now, this text does not explicitly tell us whether or not Onesiphorus is dead, but it does seem to imply it. When this is taken with the fact that at the time it was common to pray for the departed within the Synagogue, it becomes quite likely that this is precisely what St. Paul is doing: praying for his beloved friend who had gone to be with the Lord.
A final word: these brief explanations will hopefully have demonstrated that there is ample Biblical evidence for praying for the departed. It is not merely a sentimental practice in order to achieve a sense of catharsis amidst our grieving. It is founded upon certain beliefs that Christians have held for quite a long time. That said, I also recognize that I haven’t given any explanation as to what our prayers are accomplishing. The question I get asked the most about our prayers is “what do they do?” I understand the sentiment and empathize. We are Twenty-First Century persons and it is hard for us not to think in terms of cause and effect. Here’s what I’ll say: we have a deficient view of prayer. In our daily experiences, we most often find ourselves crying out to God by way of deficiency. What I mean is that it is when I sin, hurt, or lack that I pray for myself. We are accustomed to praying when need arises and not really for much else. For us, progress in the Christian life is from sin to holiness. But what if this is not the only kind of progress there is? What if one can leap “from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Corinthians 3:18) The scriptures have told us of another kind of progress; a journey from good to good; from God to God. This was true of our first parents in the Garden of Eden. They were not crushed under the weight of sin, but they were imperfect. There was still much for them to accomplish and new heights to achieve. They had not fulfilled their divine mandate, after all. For them, their progress was to be from good to better; to someday eat from the tree of life. Similarly, we may think of the Saints in bliss, but it is an imperfect bliss as they await the final consummation of the last Great Day. They are with the Lord, but they are not yet like the Lord. They are still awaiting the recreation of all things and the glory of their incorruptible bodies. While they await that day – while they journey – we may and ought to pray for them.