217. Sixth Monday of Ordinary Time

Meditations no. 92 (unofficial computer-aided translation)

Our professional vocation forms part of our divine vocation.

I’ll tell you a secret, an open secret: these world crises are crises of saints.

God wants a handful of men “of his own” in every human activity. Then … pax Christi in regno Christi, the peace of Christ in the kingdom of Christ.

By inviting us to carry out Opus Dei on earth, God has given an apostolic dimension to our professional work. Our Father writes: God wants you, whether individually through your personal apostolate, or together with other people - who may be separated from God, or who may be non-Catholics or non-Christians - to plan and carry out in the world all kinds of peaceful and noble initiatives, as varied as the face of the earth, as diverse as the feelings and desires of those who inhabit it They will contribute to the spiritual and material well-being of society, and provide everyone with the opportunity of meeting Christ, an opportunity for holiness.

In any case, the great means that you have at your disposal to enable you to carry out either of those forms of apostolate - individually, or together with other citizens - is your professional work. That is why I have so often told you that your professional vocation is an important part of your divine vocation. That is also why the Work’s apostolate in the world will always be up to date, contemporary, necessary. For as long as there are people on earth, there will be men and women who work, with a specific profession or occupation, whether intellectual or manual. And they are all called to sanctify that work, to sanctify themselves in it, and to lead others to a simple, trusting relationship with God.

Your work, your apostolate - which must necessarily be very proselytistic, like that of the early Christians - will attract people who want to work, who are vigorous, spirited, and resolute; who are constant rather than brilliant; who are daring and sincere; who love freedom, and are therefore capable of embracing our dedication: people who can become, in their life and work, Opus Dei. And all this, even though, because of the pagan surroundings they have grown up in, they may never have suspected that they can be happy in God’s friendship and lead a life of dedication and of service.

This is the goal of our professional work and the measure of its true effectiveness: the glory of God and the good of souls. That is what makes it truly Opus Dei, operatio Dei, the work of God, sanctity and apostolate.

Carrying out our work as perfectly as possible.

Our work must be well done if it is to be sanctified and if it is to sanctify ourselves and others. Within the limits of our abilities, it should be done with all the human perfection possible: we can’t offer God something shoddy. We want to imitate the sacrifice of Abel who offered God the first-born of his flock, with their fat.

It would be difficult to sanctify work that was not done with human perfection, our Father writes. Moreover, without human perfection a person will find it hard - if not impossible - to attain the professional standing and respect that are necessary for teaching others to sanctify their work and to alter their lives to comply with the demands of Christian faith.

To work well, we need sound professional training. And to work as God intends, we must be guided by supernatural motives, offering what we do to God, trying to make sure our intention is right, and always taking God’s will as our point of reference. It takes only a second. Before starting anything ask yourself: What does God want of me in this? Then, with divine grace, do it!

Each of us must work as perfectly as possible, conscientiously, responsibly, with love and perseverance, avoiding superficiality and neglect. We should use every minute, making the most of our God-given talents, and overcoming our natural shortcomings through the virtues we practise. We are not asked by God or by the Work to be professionally outstanding or brilliant. But we are asked to do all that we can. St John Chrysostom writes: No one can say, “I have but one talent and can do nothing.” No! With a single talent, you can be holy, so long as you use it well and make it yield its full fruit.

One requirement for receiving a vocation to Opus Dei is to work well, trying to finish things off perfectly. If a shoemaker mends shoes well, he can belong to Opus Dei. If he mends them badly, he cannot. If a teacher teaches well, he can belong to Opus Dei; but if he puts no effort into his teaching, he cannot. The same thing applies to a shopkeeper, a businessman, a farmer, a factory worker, a traffic warden, or a Swiss guard.

The professional formation of the members of the Work aims, as the Catechism of the Work states, to foster the supernatural spirit needed to sanctify one’s work. Members of Opus Dei are at all times encouraged to do their work with the greatest possible perfection and with a readiness to serve. In this way, through their own efforts, they acquire the standing among their colleagues whereby they can help them and carry out an effective apostolate in their own milieu.

We must strive to improve our professional training.

Study - any professional development - is a serious obligation for us. We can never consider ourselves sufficiently formed, in this area or any other. We can always improve and become more competent. Every week in the Circle, we are asked about the efforts we have made as regards our professional formation and study.

Our Father comments: We need the requisite culture to enable us to carry out our occupation or profession with perfection and competence.

I am using “culture” in a very broad sense of the term. The culture which we acquire through our own effort and study takes on a marvellous variety of forms according to the personal circumstances of the different members of the Work. The culture of a housewife, for instance, will differ from that of a university lecturer. The culture of an office worker is not the same as that of a farmer.

By culture, I mean the sum of knowledge that mankind has been amassing over the centuries. I mean the intellectual heritage which is shared by people of all times.

There is also a religious culture which is the same for everyone, though in varying degrees. The theologian explores the depths of revealed doctrine in a scientific fashion. The non-theologian goes as far as his abilities permit. But he has a very strong faith, just as the theologian should.

Then comes the professional expertise which, in our spirit, forms part of our divine vocation. This is also culture. I consider the professional skills of a barber to be as important as those of a researcher; and those of a student to be as important as those of a domestic employee. Each one must have the culture required by his or her own job or occupation, the culture that corresponds to each one’s particular professional vocation. That is what we must sanctify, and what sanctifies us and helps to sanctify others.

Carved on one of the seats in the oratory of the General Council in Rome is a donkey with long ears, whose head is buried in the open pages of a book. Using our imagination a little, we can think of him as having been a lively and alert little animal, though not exactly a genius. He might have had what people refer to as an “average I. Q.” He was an ordinary, working donkey, but a hard-working one. Since he was docile, he could be entrusted with all kinds of tasks. By his efforts he made up for what he lacked in natural qualities. And he pulled the cart so gracefully and expertly that he became the teacher of all the other donkeys.

Now is the moment to ask ourselves whether we give study and professional formation the importance it should have in the service we render to God. Let us ask God, through Mary, Sedes Sapientiae, the Seat of Wisdom, to help us to be like that little donkey, doing our work in a docile manner, diligently, and effectively.