List of points

The fruit of our prayer today should be the conviction that our journey on earth, at all times and whatever the circumstances, is for God; that it is a treasure of glory, a foretaste of heaven, something marvellous, which has been entrusted to us to administer, with a sense of responsibility, being answerable both to men and to God. But it is not necessary for us to change our situation in life. Right in the middle of the world we can sanctify our profession or job, our home life, and social relations — in fact all those things that seem to have only a worldly significance.

When at the age of twenty-six I perceived the full depth of what it meant to serve Our Lord in Opus Dei, I asked with all my heart to be granted the maturity of an eighty year old man. I asked my God, with the childlike simplicity of a beginner, to make me older, so that I would know how to use my time well and learn how to make the best use of every minute, in order to serve him. Our Lord knows how to grant these riches. Perhaps the time will come when you and I will be able to say, 'I have understood more than the elders, because I have fulfilled your commandments.' Youth need not imply thoughtlessness, just as having grey hair does not necessarily mean that a person is prudent and wise.

Come with me to Mary, the Mother of Christ. You, who are our Mother and have seen Jesus grow up and make good use of the time he spent among men, teach me how to spend my days serving the Church and all mankind. My good Mother, teach me, whenever necessary, to hear in the depths of my heart, as a gentle reproach, that my time is not my own, because it belongs to Our Father who is in Heaven.

'If the mere presence of an important person who is worthy of respect is enough to improve the behaviour of the people before him, how is it that the continual presence of God, which reaches out to every corner and is acknowledged by our faculties and gratefully loved, does not increasingly better us in our speech, actions and feelings?' Indeed, if the fact that God sees us were fully impressed on our consciences, and if we realised that all our work, absolutely all of it is done in his presence — for nothing escapes his eyes — how carefully we would finish things and how differently we would react! This is the secret of the holiness which I have now been preaching for so many years. God has called on all of us to imitate him. He has called you and me so that, living as we do in the midst of the world — and continuing to be ordinary everyday people! — we may put Christ at the top of all honest human activities.

Now you will understand even better that if anyone among you didn't love work, his own particular job; if he didn't feel sincerely committed to some noble occupation in this world so as to sanctify it, or if he were to lack a professional vocation, then that person would never be able to understand the supernatural substance of what this priest is saying to you, for the very good reason that he would be lacking an indispensable condition for doing so: that of being a worker.

I should tell you (and I don't think I am being presumptuous in saying this) that I realise immediately when I am speaking with someone if my words are going in one ear and out the other or making no impression. Let me open my heart to you so that you can help me give thanks to God. When I saw in 1928 what Our Lord wanted of me, I immediately set to work. At the time (thank you, my God, for there was much to suffer and much to love!) I was taken for a madman. Some people indeed, in an excess of understanding, called me a dreamer, but a dreamer of impossible dreams. In spite of all this and of my own shortcomings, I went ahead without getting discouraged. And since the project was not of my doing it found its way through the difficulties. Today it is a reality spread throughout the world from pole to pole, and it seems so natural to most people, because Our Lord made sure that it was recognised as something of his own doing.

I was saying that I only need exchange a couple of words with someone and I can tell whether or not he understands me. I am not like the hen who was sitting on her nest when an unknown hand slipped a duck's egg under her. The days passed and it wasn't until the chickens hatched and she saw the fluffy creature waddling about awkwardly, one leg this way, the other that way, that she realised that it wasn't one of hers and that it would never learn to chirp no matter how hard it tried. I have never ill treated anyone who turned his back on me, not even when my offer of help was repaid with insolence. That is why, back in 1939, my attention was arrested by an inscription on a building where I was preaching a retreat to some university students. It read: 'Let each wayfarer follow his own way.' It was very useful advice.

We must avoid the error of thinking we can reduce the apostolate to the performance of a few pious practices. You and I are Christians but at the same time, and without any break in continuity, we are citizens and workers with clear obligations, which we have to fulfil in an exemplary manner if we really want to become saints. Jesus himself is urging us: 'You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Neither do men light a lamp and put it under a measure, but upon the lampstand, so as to give light to all in the house. Even so, let your light shine before men, in order that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.'

Professional work, whatever it is, becomes a lamp to enlighten your colleagues and friends. That is why I usually tell those who become members of Opus Dei, and the same applies to all of you now listening to me: 'What use is it telling me that so and so is a good son of mine — a good Christian — but a bad shoemaker?' If he doesn't try to learn his trade well, or doesn't give his full attention to it, he won't be able to sanctify it or offer it to Our Lord. The sanctification of ordinary work is, as it were, the hinge of true spirituality for people who, like us, have decided to come close to God while being at the same time fully involved in temporal affairs.

I also remember my stay in Burgos around that time. A lot of young men on leave, as well as many who were stationed in the city, came to spend a few days with me. The living quarters that I shared with a few of my sons consisted of a single room in a dilapidated hotel and, though we lacked even the most basic amenities, we organised things in such a way that the men who came — there were hundreds of them — had whatever they needed to rest and recover their strength.

We used to go for walks along the banks of the River Arlanzon. There we would talk and, while they opened their hearts, I tried to guide them with suitable advice to confirm their decisions or open up new horizons in their interior lives. And always, with God's help, I would do all I could to encourage them and stir up in their hearts the desire to live genuinely Christian lives. Our walks would sometimes take us as far as the monastery of Las Huelgas. On other occasions we would find our way to the cathedral.

I used to enjoy climbing up the cathedral towers to get a close view of the ornamentation at the top, a veritable lacework of stone that must have been the result of very patient and laborious craftsmanship. As I chatted with the young men who accompanied me I used to point out that none of the beauty of this work could be seen from below. To give them a material lesson in what I had been previously explaining to them, I would say: 'This is God's work, this is working for God! To finish your personal work perfectly, with all the beauty and exquisite refinement of this tracery stonework.' Seeing it, my companions would understand that all the work we had seen was a prayer, a loving dialogue with God. The men who spent their energies there were quite aware that no one at street level could appreciate their efforts. Their work was for God alone. Now do you see how our professional work can bring us close to Our Lord? Do your job as those medieval stonemasons did theirs, and your work too will be operatio Dei, a human work with a divine substance and finish.

God did not create us to build a lasting city here on earth, because 'this world is the way to that other, a dwelling place free from care'. Nevertheless, we children of God ought not to remain aloof from earthly endeavours, for God has placed us here to sanctify them and make them fruitful with our blessed faith, which alone is capable of bringing true peace and joy to all men wherever they may be. Since 1928 I have constantly preached that we urgently need to christianise society. We must imbue all levels of mankind with a supernatural outlook, and each of us must strive to raise his daily duties, his job or profession, to the order of supernatural grace. In this way all human occupations will be lit up by a new hope that transcends time and the inherent transience of earthly realities.

Through Baptism we are made bearers of the word of Christ, a word which soothes, enkindles and reassures the wounded conscience. For Our Lord to act in us and for us, we must tell him that we are ready to struggle each day, even though we realise we are feeble and useless, and the heavy burden of our personal shortcomings and weakness weighs down upon us. We must tell him again and again that we trust in him and in his help: if necessary, like Abraham, hoping 'against all hope'. Thus we will go about our work with renewed vigour, and we will teach others how to live free from worry, hate, suspicion, ignorance, misunderstandings and pessimism, because God can do everything.