Hey, fictional average Joes with secret alter-egos--or, in Batman's case, fictional secret alter-egos with secret average Joes--have the right to worthily magnify, too. Superheroes can make negligibly impetuous decisions from time to time ("Bruce Wayne, Dick...pleased to make your acquaintance") or might need a little hand to revive a dead guy (The Thing evoking the Godhead in Yiddish to attempt saving the life of Yancy Street's resident pawnbroker, Mr. Sheckenberg). Nothing's ever dictated they can't summon the lean, mean Lamb and the Heavenly Host Posse when confronted with an ethical or spiritual quandary they can't seem to lick on their own.
Let's face it; batarangs, lassoes or forms of a methyl trichloride-soaked towel or 5th Avenue bar laced with a gentle laxative don't lend much credence if, in some of the more heavily devout cases, they're not backed up by the messianic seal of approval courtesy of--dare I say--The Backhand. The Big Black Bat, Zatanna (eclectic Pentecostal Dianic Wiccan--hoooo), The Man of Steel (Kryptonian religion AND Methodist) and many more are humbly belting out rousing flourishes of "Kumbaya" around the ecumenical campfire in this canonical compendium of superpower sectarianism. Don't ask me how these creeps found their way into the circle. Yeah...not warmly invited.
Anyway, praise the Lord--and pass the Holy Bat-Drinking Water Dispenser!!