There are few things that bring a smile to a man like getting a new power tool. We eagerly open the box, tear through the packaging, set all the accessories in a pile, and without even plugging it in we immediately start pushing all the buttons, twisting the knobs, and flipping the levers. Our minds race with the potential of what we can do with our new toy, and it becomes the topic of every new conversation with friends.
After talking about it and inspecting it, we go to set it up and use it for the first time, and, well, something’s not right. Or there’s an accessory that we can’t quite figure out. Wait. Wasn’t there a manual somewhere?
We dig around, and okay, yes, there was a manual. We stuffed it back in the box. So there, buried in the manual on page 63 is the information we need. Now we’re back in business and we can go do man-things like build and cut and grill.
Often ignored, however, are the little triangle-with-an-exclaimation-point warnings that are sprinkled throughout the 104-page multi-lingual manual. We don’t need to read those things. We’re grown-ups. This isn’t our first power tool. Those warnings are just for people who have never used one of these things before, and also to keep the lawyers happy. We think this, despite the fact that emergency rooms have no end of people who don’t take a moment to read the fine print on a router that spins at 12,000rpm.
The Catholic Church has given us power tools too. We call these sacramentals, and they are an important part of our faith life. Everyone has their favorites. The Rosary, exorcised salt, holy water, Epiphany water, Lourdes water, Miraculous Medals, St. Benedict Medals, Brown Scapulars, Green Scapulars, relics… the list goes on. With these tools we engage in spiritual warfare battling vice and sin, and we use them to build our faith life. There’s no buttons or knobs or levers. There’s no accessories to figure out. They are very simple.
Despite their simplicity, our sacramentals are indeed powerful tools in our fight against sin and the powers of darkness. Saints throughout the history of our Church have used them, vouched for their efficacy, and recommended their use. With them we have a formidable arsenal at our disposal.
Ah, but there is still a manual. And since very few sacramentals come with a manual that has the fine print, I’m going to go ahead and fill you in about the little triangle-with-an-exclaimation-point warning that we as Catholics are supposed to know. There’s really only one warning. And it’s very important: Improperly used, sacramentals may be hazardous to your salvation.
There is your warning triangle. Now here is the fine print.
A sacramental in and of itself has no power. None. In and of itself, they are nothing more than glass, metal, cloth, and wood. By themselves they will not get you to Heaven. Even once they are blessed, they still will do exactly nothing by themselves. The Rosary is just beads and wire, scapulars are just pieces of cloth, medals are just metal, exorcised salt is just sodium chloride, and holy water of any type is just hydrogen and oxygen with some sodium chloride in it.
When we have and use sacramentals, we must not fall into the sin of superstition. All of our sacramentals rely upon our faith. St. Bernadette was asked what was special about the water at Lourdes and she said, “One must have faith and pray; the water will have no virtue without faith.” Sacramentals are nothing more than man-made created objects, but they are powerful because—and only when—we allow them to point us to their Creator.