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Message of the Holy Father for the 57th World
Day of Prayer for Vocations
On 3 May 2020, Fourth Sunday of Easter, the 57th
World Day of Prayer for Vocations will be held
on the theme: “Words of Vocation”.
The following is the Message the Holy Father
Francis has sent for the occasion to bishops,
priests, consecrated persons and faithful all
over the world:
Message of the Holy Father
Words of Vocation
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
On 4 August last year, the 160th anniversary of
the death of the Curé of Ars, I chose to write a
letter to all those priests who daily devote
their lives to the service of God’s people in
response to the Lord’s call.
On that occasion, I chose four key words – pain,
gratitude, encouragement and praise – as a way
of thanking priests and supporting their
ministry. I believe that today, on this 57th
World Day of Prayer for Vocations, those words
can be addressed to the whole people of God,
against the backdrop of the Gospel passage that
recounts for us the remarkable experience of
Jesus and Peter during a stormy night on the Sea
of Galilee (cf. Mt 14:22-33).
After the multiplication of the loaves, which
had astonished the crowds, Jesus told his
disciples to get into the boat and precede him
to the other shore, while he took leave of the
people. The image of the disciples crossing the
lake can evoke our own life’s journey. Indeed,
the boat of our lives slowly advances,
restlessly looking for a safe haven and prepared
to face the perils and promises of the sea, yet
at the same time trusting that the helmsman will
ultimately keep us on the right course. At
times, though, the boat can drift off course,
misled by mirages, not the lighthouse that leads
it home, and be tossed by the tempests of
difficulty, doubt and fear.
Something similar takes place in the hearts of
those who, called to follow the Teacher of
Nazareth, have to undertake a crossing and
abandon their own security to become the Lord’s
disciples. The risk involved is real: the night
falls, the headwinds howl, the boat is tossed by
the waves, and fear of failure, of not being up
to the call, can threaten to overwhelm them.
The Gospel, however, tells us that in the midst
of this challenging journey we are not alone.
Like the first ray of dawn in the heart of the
night, the Lord comes walking on the troubled
waters to join the disciples; he invites Peter
to come to him on the waves, saves him when he
sees him sinking and, once in the boat, makes
the winds die down.
The first word of vocation, then, is gratitude.
Taking the right course is not something we do
on our own, nor does it depend solely on the
road we choose to travel. How we find fulfilment
in life is more than a decision we make as
isolated individuals; above all else, it is a
response to a call from on high. The Lord points
out our destination on the opposite shore and he
grants us the courage to board the boat. In
calling us, he becomes our helmsman; he
accompanies and guides us; he prevents us from
running aground on the shoals of indecision and
even enables us to walk on surging waters.
Every vocation is born of that gaze of love with
which the Lord came to meet us, perhaps even at
a time when our boat was being battered by the
storm. “Vocation, more than our own choice, is a
response to the Lord’s unmerited call” (Letter
to Priests, 4 August 2019). We will succeed in
discovering and embracing our vocation once we
open our hearts in gratitude and perceive the
passage of God in our lives.
When the disciples see Jesus walking towards
them on the sea, they first think that he is a
ghost and are filled with fear. Jesus
immediately reassures them with words that
should constantly accompany our lives and our
vocational journey: “Take heart, it is I; have
no fear” (Mt 14:27). This, then, is the second
word I wish to offer you: encouragement.
What frequently hinders our journey, our growth,
our choosing the road the Lord is marking out
for us, are certain “ghosts” that trouble our
hearts. When we are called to leave safe shores
and embrace a state of life – like marriage,
ministerial priesthood, consecrated life – our
first reaction is often from the “ghost of
disbelief”. Surely, this vocation is not for me!
Can this really be the right path? Is the Lord
really asking me to do this?
Those thoughts can keep growing – justifications
and calculations that sap our determination and
leave us hesitant and powerless on the shore
where we started. We think we might be wrong,
not up to the challenge, or simply glimpsing a
ghost to be exorcized.
The Lord knows that a fundamental life choice –
like marriage or special consecration to his
service – calls for courage. He knows the
questions, doubts and difficulties that toss the
boat of our heart, and so he reassures us: “Take
heart, it is I; have no fear!” We know in faith
that he is present and comes to meet us, that he
is ever at our side even amid stormy seas. This
knowledge sets us free from that lethargy which
I have called “sweet sorrow” (Letter to Priests,
4 August 2019), the interior discouragement that
hold us back from experiencing the beauty of our
vocation.
In the Letter to Priests, I also spoke about
pain, but here I would like to translate the
word differently, as fatigue. Every vocation
brings with it a responsibility. The Lord calls
us because he wants to enable us, like Peter, to
“walk on water”, in other words, to take charge
of our lives and place them at the service of
the Gospel, in the concrete and everyday ways
that he shows us, and specifically in the
different forms of lay, priestly and consecrated
vocation. Yet, like Saint Peter, our desire and
enthusiasm coexist with our failings and fears.
If we let ourselves be daunted by the
responsibilities that await us – whether in
married life or priestly ministry – or by the
hardships in store for us, then we will soon
turn away from the gaze of Jesus and, like
Peter, we will begin to sink. On the other hand,
despite our frailty and poverty, faith enables
us to walk towards the Risen Lord and to weather
every storm. Whenever fatigue or fear make us
start to sink, Jesus holds out his hand to us.
He gives us the enthusiasm we need to live our
vocation with joy and fervour.
When Jesus at last boards the boat, the winds
die down and the waves are calmed. Here we have
a beautiful image of what the Lord can do at
times of turbulence and tempest in our lives. He
stills those winds, so that the forces of evil,
fear and resignation no longer have power over
us.
As we live out our specific vocation, those
headwinds can wear us down. Here I think of all
those who have important responsibilities in
civil society, spouses whom I like to refer to –
note without reason – as “courageous”, and in a
particular way those who have embraced the
consecrated life or the priesthood. I am
conscious of your hard work, the sense of
isolation that can at times weigh upon your
hearts, the risk of falling into a rut that can
gradually make the ardent flame of our vocation
die down, the burden of the uncertainty and
insecurity of the times, and worry about the
future. Take heart, do not be afraid! Jesus is
at our side, and if we acknowledge him as the
one Lord of our lives, he will stretch out his
hand, take hold of us and save us.
Even amid the storm-tossed waters, then, our
lives become open to praise. This is the last of
our vocation words, and it is an invitation to
cultivate the interior disposition of the
Blessed Virgin Mary. Grateful that Lord gazed
upon her, faithful amid fear and turmoil, she
courageously embraced her vocation and made of
her life an eternal song of praise to the Lord.
Dear friends, on this day in particular, but
also in the ordinary pastoral life of our
communities, I ask the Church to continue to
promote vocations. May she touch the hearts of
the faithful and enable each of them to discover
with gratitude God’s call in their lives, to
find courage to say “yes” to God, to overcome
all weariness through faith in Christ, and to
make of their lives a song of praise for God,
for their brothers and sisters, and for the
whole world. May the Virgin Mary accompany us
and intercede for us.
Rome, Saint John Lateran, 8 March 2020, the
Second Sunday of Lent
FRANCIS
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