“In our self-centered culture and classic American emphasis on work, we often feel we have to accomplish something during our times of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. We rate our experience by how ‘good’ our prayer was, how heartfelt our devotion was, or how focused we could remain. Yet prayer and contemplation are fundamentally God’s work, in which we are invited to participate. We need only to give Him the opening, and He will do the rest. By coming to adoration, we are handing Him the keys to our hearts, allowing the rays of His love and grace to bathe our souls in the light of His Presence, as the rays of the sun bathe our bodies in light. If we can take the time to pull away from the busyness and distractions of life and just sit at His feet, He will lead us.”— Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration, p. 33
The Fourth Sunday of Easter is known as “Good Shepherd Sunday” because the Mass reading is taken from the Gospel of John, where Jesus uses the imagery of a shepherd guiding and guarding his flock to describe His relationship with those He has redeemed: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (Jn. 10:11). The communion antiphon for this Mass reads, “The Good Shepherd is risen! He who laid down his life for his sheep, who died for his flock, he is risen, alleluia.” Good Shepherd Sunday is also recognized as the World Day of Prayer for Vocations, where the faithful pray that God will send them good and holy priests who, following the example of Christ, will lay down their lives for His sheep.
“The limitless loving devotion to God, and the gift God makes of Himself to you, are the highest elevation of which the heart is capable; it is the highest degree of prayer.” — St. Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein)
Sustaining them in these trials was the work of prayer. To such communities the church entrusted the “office” of praying the liturgy of the hours. The day—and night—was punctuated by formal prayer. In this way hymns, psalms, and prayers—recited or sung—would continually rise from earth to heaven. In this way the glory of God never ceased to be celebrated and the needs of humankind never ceased to be a source of trusting petitions. If those first sisters did, indeed, count the insults and privations as “great delights” what would explain such joy but the exaltation that flows from a love that “surpasses understanding.” It was through the daily cycle of prayer that such “blessed assurance” grew in them. The rounds of hours of the breviary brought the richness of psalms and Scripture texts into dialogue with their daily tasks. Meditation upon the Byzantine Cross, the adoration of the Eucharist, attending Mass, hearing sermons—all gave new meaning to each day’s trials or triumphs. Weaving prayer and productive work created the balance within their hearts and minds that allowed them to keep moving. The poor sisters lived filled with consolation, with assurance. They dared to believe that promise of Jesus. They were learning that he was true to his word and their joy was, indeed, full and free. They learned to reverse their own standards of judgment in favor of the riddle that calls one to lose life in order to gain it. That women could live without the safety net of approved monastic vows and ample endowments and follow Christ in such literal fashion was news indeed. And the women themselves were the first to understand that.
Nicholas, familiarly known as “Little John,” was small in stature but big in the esteem of his fellow Jesuits.
Born at Oxford, this humble artisan saved the lives of many priests and laypersons in England during the penal times (1559-1829), when a series of statutes punished Catholics for the practice of their faith. Over a period of about 20 years, Nicholas used his skills to build secret hiding places for priests throughout the country.
His work, which he did completely by himself as both architect and builder, was so good that time and time again priests in hiding were undetected by raiding parties. Nicholas was a genius at finding and creating places of safety: subterranean passages, small spaces between walls, impenetrable recesses.
At one point he was even able to mastermind the escape of two Jesuits from the Tower of London. Whenever Nicholas set out to design such hiding places, he began by receiving the holy Eucharist, and he would turn to God in prayer throughout the long, dangerous construction process.
After many years at his unusual task, Nicholas entered the Society of Jesus and served as a lay brother, although—for very good reasons—his connection with the Jesuits was kept secret.
After a number of narrow escapes, he himself was finally caught in 1594. Despite protracted torture, Nicholas refused to disclose the names of other Catholics. After being released following the payment of a ransom, “Little John” went back to his work. He was arrested again in 1606. This time he was subjected to horrible tortures, suffering an agonizing death. The jailers tried suggesting that he had confessed and committed suicide, but his heroism and sufferings soon were widely known.
Nicholas Owen was canonized in 1970 as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales.
Reflection
Nicholas was a clever builder and architect who used his skills to protect endangered priests. Without his help, hundreds of English Catholics would have been deprived of the sacraments. His gift for spotting unlikely places to hide priests was impressive, but more impressive was his habit of seeking support for his work in prayer and the Eucharist. If we follow his example, we may also discover surprising ways to put our skills to God’s service.
“If during vocal prayer your heart is drawn to mental prayer, do not restrain it, but let your devotion take that channel, omitting the vocal prayers which you intended to say: that which takes their place is more acceptable to God, and more useful to your own soul.”— St. Francis de Sales, p. 63
“The Bible says that Moses spoke to the Lord face-to-face, like a friend, and this is how prayer must be: free, insistent, with arguments, even reproving the Lord a little: ‘But you promised me this and you didn’t do it!’ Prayer is like speaking with a friend: in prayer one opens one’s heart. Following his face-to-face with God, Moses went down the mountain reinvigorated, saying, ‘I got to know the Lord better.’ And that strength allowed him to resume his work of leading the people to the Promised Land.”—Pope Francis
During Lent, most of us decide to pray more. We begin the season with a fresh new plan for improving our prayer lives. We might decide we’re going to say the rosary every day or pray the Liturgy of the Hours. We might plan to go to daily Mass more often. We find a new prayer book and commit to using it at a set time during the day. These are all worthy goals, but as we come to the end of the fourth week of Lent, we have to admit that our intentions are often defeated by our inertia or simply by the day-to-day realities of life. Pope Francis reminds us that prayer is not about us and the things we do, it’s about our relationship with God. He describes for us a very vivid image of talking to God as we would talk to a friend, a lover, a trusted confidante, a caring parent. He reminds us not to keep God at a distance, not to behave as though God doesn’t know our innermost thoughts and feelings. Too often our prayer is what we think God wants to hear. And sometimes we do that to keep ourselves detached from our deepest needs as well. Sometimes it takes talking to a close friend to discover what’s really bothering us. Pope Francis reminds us that God can be that close friend, as he was to Moses, to Abraham, to Noah, to Jesus, to all the saints through the ages.
Set aside your formal prayers today and bring before God the deepest desires and fears that you hold close in your heart. Talk to God the way you would talk to your closest friend. And then take time to sit in silence with God. Let yourself be held in God’s love, listening to the divine heartbeat in the world around you and in the depths of your own heart.
