When we hear the word “vocation” in the language of the Church, we often think of priests, deacons, and sisters. However, a vocation is any calling from God to use our own personal talents in the way that best serves the building of the Kingdom of God. This could include any variety of things, such as marriage, parenthood, teaching, public service, the food industry, medicine, business, and agriculture.
Pope Francis gave a speech to a group of farmers on January 31, 2015, at the Vatican. He spoke of the vocation of those who work in agriculture. Here is a key passage from his talk:
“Truly there is no humanity without the cultivation of land; there is no good life without the food that it produces for the men and women of every continent. The labor of those who cultivate the earth, generously dedicating time and energy to it, appears as a genuine vocation. It deserves to be recognized and appropriately appreciated.”
Agriculture is one of the most ancient and noble professions in the world. It is a vocation from God. Here in the Diocese of San Angelo, we celebrate the fact that many of our Catholic men and women have received this honorable calling.
Of course, just because someone is involved in agriculture, that doesn’t mean they’re automatically a walking saint. Nevertheless, when it is approached properly, rural life builds character and is a path to holiness. I have observed over many years how rural life naturally builds on the dynamics of family life, responsibility, helping one’s neighbor, and a healthy rhythm of work, rest, and prayer.
We in West Texas know very well that agriculture includes plenty of blood, sweat, and tears. The work is hard. Sometimes there is not enough rain or groundwater to make a crop. The large scale of modern farming typically requires plenty of credit and involves significant risk. The price of fuel and feed can seriously hinder profitability. Natural events such as fire, hailstorms, and disease can wreak havoc on an operation. Because so many things could go wrong, farmers and ranchers realize how much we all depend on God to survive.
I believe there is a natural affinity for spirituality in the hearts of those who work the land. Rural life naturally feeds a sense of prayerfulness. For example, the expansiveness of the open spaces leads us to ponder God. Looking at the stars at night, or the beauty of our West Texas landscapes, inspires us to think of the immensity of God the Creator.
Those who work to produce food and fiber have the privilege of collaborating in God’s ongoing work of creation. Raising animals and tilling the earth is a direct response to God’s call to exercise faithful stewardship. It brings a tremendous sense of fulfillment to know that one is helping to feed and clothe the world. Through human work, God takes the raw materials of this world and sustains life.
The quiet and solitude that are experienced in the day of an agricultural worker provide a chance to get in touch with God and with oneself. It allows us to think things through deeply and face the truth about our relationships.
Jesus himself came from a small town, as did most of his Apostles. He appreciated the peace and quiet of the wide-open spaces. For example, during his three years of public ministry, he had the practice of getting away from the crowds and going out into the country for quiet prayer time. In the Gospel of Mark, verse 1:35 describes this dynamic in the life of Jesus: “Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place, where he prayed.” Many in West Texas do the same thing every day.
The world of agriculture is closely tied to our Catholic sacraments. The two consumables that Jesus Christ uses for the Eucharist are natural agricultural products -- wheat bread and grape wine with no additives. In the Chrism Mass in our Cathedral each year, the three oils that I bless come from olives, sunflowers, and cottonseed. The altar linens we use in Mass are usually made from natural fibers.
Whether we are involved in agriculture or in any other career, if we are to live out our vocation as a path to holiness, all of us must find a way to integrate our daily work with our life of prayer. To lay a solid foundation for a vibrant spirituality of work, I would like to recommend two classic books of Catholic spirituality.
The first book is called
The Practice of the Presence of God. It was written in the mid- 1600s by Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection. He was a monk who worked in a monastery kitchen, and his book teaches a way to discover God’s presence in the midst of the most basic, practical tasks of daily work.
The other book is by Jean Pierre de Caussade. Written in the early 1700s, its original title was
Abandonment to Divine Providence. The modern English title of this book is
The Sacrament of the Present Moment. The author teaches a simple method of prayer that lifts our heart up to God throughout the day, opening our eyes to the many ways God is present to us, as if they were little sacraments.
By adapting the insights of these Catholic authors to the circumstances of our active lives today, we can develop an attentiveness to the presence of God in the normal experiences of our daily work. Thus, when we hear the sound of the mockingbird, or witness the birth of a calf, or take in the beautiful smell of freshly cut hay, or admire the colorful artistry of a West Texas sunset, we can embrace those moments like little sacraments of God.
The same Jesus who is sacramentally present to us in the Eucharist wants to be our daily companion, including during the working part of our day. This includes driving that tractor, feeding those animals, or rumbling down another dusty country road.
As the bishop of a very rural diocese, I deeply appreciate the vocation of agriculture. I pray for all those who labor under the hot sun on the farms and ranches of West Texas. When I offer the Eucharist, I remember you and your work, and I lift you up to God in prayer.