To become an official saint through the canonization process of the Roman Catholic Church, you have to be dead first. You must die with a reputation for holiness, having lived a life that brought many people around you closer to God. People might then begin praying to you, saving parts of your clothing or body as relics, and telling others about you. Eventually, some people might make formal petition to the local bishop, who would then decide whether to begin the lengthy investigation that could eventually result in you being proclaimed a saint.
The Roman Catholic Church has designated certain canonized saints as “patron saints” with a special connection to various professions, illnesses, nations, and so forth. We pray to these patron saints for certain things in those contexts. For example, St. Joseph was a carpenter, so carpenters and others might pray to him before working with wood. St. Patrick brought the faith to Ireland, so the Irish might invoke him on behalf of their nation.
We also have our individual patron saints. If a boy was baptized Timothy after St. Timothy, then he might pray in a special way to this first-century evangelist and bishop of Ephesus who traveled with St. Paul of Tarsus. The same would be true of a girl baptized Mary, who might pray to the Mother of God for help in doing God’s will in a difficult situation.
Patron Saints
You can learn a lot about Catholics by the patron saints each one of us adopts.
Upon being elected Vicar of Christ in 2013, Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, S.J., chose St. Francis of Assisi as his papal namesake after a fellow cardinal asked him to “remember the poor.” Deeply moved by this request, the future Pope Francis recalled the image of the holy beggar who founded the Franciscans and felt drawn to choose him as the patron saint of his papacy. Like St. Ignatius on his sickbed, the world’s first Jesuit pope felt especially close to this saint of the poor.
Many of us have more than one saint in our names. My own name is Sean Michael Joseph Ignatius Salai, S.J. Not to the U.S. government, of course, for whom I am merely Sean Michael Salai. But within the Catholic Church, in which I’ve chosen two of these names for myself, that’s my full name.
Sean, my first name, is an Irish form of John. I received it as a baby without any religious significance or Irish ancestry, but I’ve since adopted St. John the Evangelist as my name saint and December 27 — his feast day — as my onomastico or “name day” to celebrate in a special way. In this case, I might have picked another St. John, but I really like John’s gospel!
I also received my middle name, Michael, without any particular religious significance. But I associate it with St. Michael the Archangel, the warrior spirit who leads God’s army of good angels against Satan’s army of rebellious angels (demons) in the Book of Revelation. When I struggle with the demons of my life, I recite the Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel:
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of
the Devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts,
by the divine power of God,
cast into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.
This is a prayer of minor exorcism, offering protection (not deliverance from demonic possession) against the influence of evil spirits in our lives, whether they are spirits of temptation and addiction or of compulsion and oppression. At times of internal struggle, no matter how agonizing, I find comfort in reciting these words. As an angel, St. Michael is a pure spirit (he never had a physical body) rather than a human being, so he’s not exactly cut from the same cloth as me, but I pray to him when I need courage and help in difficult battles. The image of Michael’s winged figure clad in armor and stabbing a demon in the head with his sword, seen in many Catholic statues and paintings, can feel mighty comforting when I want God to stab my selfishness and hardness of heart in the head.
St. Michael casts out the “accuser of our brothers,” as the Book of Revelation calls Lucifer (12:10), who condemns us before God as worthy of eternal damnation — this Satan who whispers our sins into our ears to tempt us to despair. Michael drives out the demons of this accuser who tempt us to doubt God’s love for us, to doubt our own goodness, and to doubt the evidence of our religious experience and of all created things that testify to God’s power. Alcoholics and addicts, policemen and murderers alike, have called on St. Michael for help in times of struggle. I have called on him myself in prison ministry, working from 2014 to 2017 in the Catholic chaplaincy at San Quentin state prison in California, where inmates experience a powerful sense of demonic evil.
My third name, Joseph, is my “confirmation name,” a custom from some parts of Europe that has found a home throughout much of the United States. The idea is simple: You pick a saint you like and make his name part of your own when you receive the sacrament of confirmation. It’s pretty cool to pick a name for yourself, and often the bishop or priest even uses this name, rather than your birth name, when confirming you.
During my junior year (2001–2002) at all-male Wabash College in Indiana, I chose St. Joseph for my confirmation name after having some trouble deciding whom to pick. Not having grown up Catholic, I wasn’t sure how to discern what saint inspired me the most. When I asked our local pastor for advice, he just shrugged and said: “When I was a kid, every Catholic boy picked Joseph.” For him, the husband of Mary covered all bases, as St. Joseph is the patron saint of everything from husbands and workers to priests and the universal Church.
When I reflected on St. Joseph in prayer after my confirmation, I found myself admiring his trust in the infancy narrative of Matthew’s Gospel, where he takes Mary into his home and follows God silently despite his initial uncertainty. Since I figured I might have a family of my own one day, Joseph seemed like a good patron saint for me, as he was the patron of fathers too. For a year or two, I prayed to him with a little chaplet (corded rope with medal) and prayer that a friend gave me as a confirmation gift. I was also happy that Joseph was the patron saint of workers, as I certainly hoped to find a job after college!
Five years after my confirmation, when God called me to the priesthood instead of marriage, I had the chance to pick another saint’s name for my first perpetual vows in the Society of Jesus. Unlike some monastic religious orders where men and women replace their first name with a saint’s name, like “Rebecca” becoming “Sister Mary Robert,” I was not required to replace “Sean” with another name like “Aloysius” (Thank God!). But I followed the Jesuit option of choosing a devotional vow name, picking “Ignatius” in honor of our religious founder.
Jesuit Vows
During my two years of Jesuit novitiate from 2005 to 2007, I grew to admire St. Ignatius of Loyola for the depth of his relationship with God and for the life story in his autobiography, which moved me to tears and struck a deep chord in my heart. Like St. Ignatius, I felt God’s grace had led my life in a different direction than I originally planned, guiding me each step of the way to a deeper trust in the divine will.
On August 15, 2007, the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I ended my two-year Jesuit novitiate by professing my first perpetual vows in the house chapel at St. Charles College in Grand Coteau, Louisiana:
Almighty and eternal God,
I, Sean Michael Joseph Ignatius Salai,
understand how unworthy I am in your divine sight.
Yet I am strengthened by your infinite compassion