Protestants Pray to Saints, Too.
I had just converted to Catholicism but hadn’t yet asked a saint to pray for me—okay, Protestants, I hadn’t yet prayed to a saint. I sat down at the kitchen bar and said,
“Heavenly Father, my God and my King, if what I’m about to do is sinful, please forgive me. Hail Mary, full of grace…”
Have you ever read something really old—like Shakespeare? Did you ever pause at lines such as “I pray thee…” or “I pray you, tell me…”? I never thought much of it, but most people understand the meaning. Back then, “pray” simply meant “ask.” In Latin and medieval English, to pray meant to petition, not to worship.
It’s only in modern times that the word prayer has shifted from meaning simply a request to becoming almost entirely synonymous with worship. If someone from the 15th century time-traveled to today and heard us equating “prayer” exclusively with worship, they’d be baffled. In fact, the Church historically had clear distinctions for different kinds of prayer:
Dulia (from the Greek douleia, “servitude” or “honor”): veneration given to saints and angels, recognizing their holiness and participation in God’s glory.
Hyperdulia: a special, higher degree of honor reserved uniquely for the Virgin Mary, above the saints but infinitely below God.
Latria (from the Greek latreia, “service” or “worship”): adoration due to God alone—the highest form of reverence involving sacrifice and worship in the strict sense.
These distinctions were articulated by the early Church Fathers (like St. Augustine and St. Jerome) and formally defined at the Second Council of Nicaea in 787 AD. The council defended the veneration of icons, teaching that images of Christ, Mary, and the saints could be honored (dulia), while adoration (latria) belongs to God alone. The Catholic Church maintains this teaching today.
So when early Christians “prayed” to saints, they understood it in this sense—asking for intercession, not offering worship. Over time, especially after the Reformation, English usage narrowed. “Prayer” became associated almost exclusively with divine worship, and Protestants, rejecting the intercession of saints, reinforced this narrowing. By the 16th–17th centuries, in English-speaking Christianity, “prayer” was nearly synonymous with worship, fueling the Protestant critique that Catholic prayers to saints looked like idolatry—even though Catholic theology preserved the dulia–latria distinction.
Back to our time-traveling friend: if they saw you ask a friend to pray for you, they’d understand that as a kind of “dulia prayer.” In the same way, Catholics and Orthodox Christians ask saints to intercede for them.
And here’s the irony: Protestants pray to saints, too. Scripture encourages it. James 5:16 says, “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” Christians of all traditions recognize this as an invitation to confess sins and pray for one another. We all ask other believers to pray for us—that’s intercession.
The disagreement isn’t about whether we should ask others for prayer, but about who counts as “alive.” Protestants see the saints in heaven as “dead,” while Catholics believe they are more alive than ever in the presence of God. The Bible’s prohibitions against necromancy (in Deuteronomy, Leviticus, Isaiah) condemned calling upon evil spirits for knowledge. Catholics don’t seek secret information from the dead; we simply ask those in heaven to pray for us. And honestly—who’s more righteous and effective in prayer: sinners on earth, or the saints already perfected in God’s presence?
The same misunderstanding comes up with bowing. I once discussed this with my friend Joe:
Me: Catholics aren’t worshipping saints when we bow before a statue. We’re showing respect—like bowing to fellow Christians at church, to a martial arts instructor, to a friend from Asia, or to my wife when I ask her to dance.
Joe: But the Bible says not to bow before anyone except God.
Me: Correct—it warns against kneeling in worship before false gods, not against gestures of respect.
Joe: Still, you can see how bowing before a statue could look like worship.
Me: Yes, I understand. But that’s not what we’re doing.
Joe: So, it’s about intention?
Me: Exactly.
Here’s my proposal for Protestants: let’s stop recycling 500-year-old accusations—“Catholics worship idols,” “Catholics worship saints,” “Catholics deify the pope or Mary.” These arguments aren’t clever; they’re stale. They’ve been debunked again and again. What keeps them alive is pride and fear—fear that if you truly investigated Catholic teaching from Catholic sources, you might discover something that challenges your inherited beliefs. I know because I was there once myself.
Clinging to these misconceptions shrinks God into a small, homemade box of our own making. It doesn’t “renew your mind,” and it certainly doesn’t align with Christ’s commandment to love as He loved.
If you have questions about Catholicism, seek answers from reliable Catholic sources—not from those outside the Church. Start with the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The Church isn’t hiding the truth. (Well, maybe the Vatican hides a few things, but not the essentials—IDK.)
Here’s the point: God is big enough that asking saints for their prayers doesn’t diminish His glory; it magnifies it. When I love my mother-in-law, does my wife feel threatened? Of course not. Loving her mother only deepens the love between me and my wife. In the same way, honoring Mary and asking her to pray for us only deepens our love for God.
And for the record—when I first prayed to Mary, nothing bad happened. God didn’t strike me down. Instead, He gave me peace. Since then, after forty years of not doing so, I’ve continued asking Mary and the saints for their prayers. I can honestly say my prayers are answered more often, and in ways far better than I ever imagined. Why wouldn’t they be? I now have the most righteous Christians––alive—in heaven interceding on my behalf.
