Letter to parishioners in this time of pandemic Dear Brothers and Sisters, I trust this finds you physically, mentally and spiritually healthy on this Good Shepherd or Vocations Sunday. Today, like you, I am in lockdown. But this time last year, I was in Rome, staying in a seminary called the Venerable English College. It was founded in the sixteenth century to train men for the priesthood and return them to the “English mission”. One of the first students to enrol for this mission was a 29 year-old man called Ralph Sherwin. He was originally from Derbyshire and at the age of 18 Sherwin went to Oxford University thanks to a scholarship from the Catholic nobleman, Sir William Petre of Ingatestone Hall in Essex. After graduating, Sherwin converted to Catholicism and fled overseas to the English College at Douai where he was ordained a priest on the 23 March 1577. In August of that same year, Sherwin travelled to Rome, and in the English College he took his missionary oath, remarking Potius hodie quam cras –‘rather today than tomorrow’. Sherwin was itching to get back to England without delay. He felt the urgency of proclaiming the good news of God’s grace to the men and women of his troubled age. In England at that time, it was not a pandemic that prevented Catholics from gathering for the celebration of Mass, it was the civil law that made it illegal for Catholics to congregate. Catholics were considered potential enemies of the state. It was a criminal offense to spread the Catholic Faith and priests caught celebrating Mass were publically executed in the most violent fashion. To be a Catholic, to love Christ and His Church, to have a vocation took courage and was likely to end with persecution or death. This was certainly the case for Ralph Sherwin. Within three months of his return to England, he was arrested On 1 December 1581, Ralph Sherwin was tied to a hurdle and drawn by a horse to Tyburn, today’s Marble Arch in London. He kissed his executioner’s hands, was hung almost to the point of death and then his body was quartered, butchered into four pieces. His final words to the crowd were recorded to be ‘Iesu, Iesu, Iesu, esto mihi Iesu’. ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, be thou unto me Jesus’. At the moment there are some thirty young men training for the priesthood at the English College in Rome and, of course, other men training in other seminaries in this country. We thank God for their witness and pray for them as they prepare for the English mission. Although they may not be executed for their faith, their vocation is likely to be met with incomprehension, ridicule and at times treated with suspicion and contempt. The popular culture will portray them as Fleabag priests or men with dark secrets or perverted natures. I must say that the men I have encountered in seminaries have been full of faith and display a mature desire to imitate Christ, the good shepherd. 1 But it’s not just the popular culture that can be antagonistic to this particular vocation. One seminarian I was chatting to told me that his Catholic parents had told him he was wasting his life when they found out that he was considering the priesthood. To be a Catholic, to be a disciple of Christ and to love His Church takes courage. It requires a strength of character to face the crowd and, with God’s grace, to pray Jesus, Jesus, be thou unto me Jesus. But that’s not just true of priests...that’s true for all of us. Because each one of you listening to this has a vocation. You are called to witness to Christ: by the way you embrace His Cross and by the way you live the hope of Resurrection. I think the reason many people think that others have a vocation and they don’t, has something to do with the word “vocation” itself. With its connotations of a radical and dramatic change of life that applies only to a few people, the word has become a mental obstacle to the many. Now a vocation may be dramatic, for example, a ‘love at first sight’ moment may have been the catalyst for the vocation to married life. But, I suspect, most vocations don’t show themselves in this way. They’re not dramatic, but gradual, almost imperceptible awakenings within us to God’s will. It isn’t that God looks down from heaven at some arbitrary moment and drops a vocation on you. Rather, I prefer to think of it more as God quietly speaking over and over again the same word to us – our true name, out true identity, our true mission. That was certainly my experience. There was no date or time when my vocation to the priesthood fell out of the sky, but rather God was speaking to me from the moment of my conception and will go on doing so until my death. The call of God is not a one-off event but is continuous, including when you have embraced a particular way of being a disciple of the Good Shepherd. Of course, if you are listening attentively, if you don’t allow the white noise of your own desires and the siren voices of the world around you to drown out God’s voice, then you do have to respond to Him. For each one of us, the response is different, because we mirror God in different ways to the world around us. The question is not if you have a vocation, you do: your baptismal vocation. The question is, how do I best express it for the glory of God? And to discern the answer requires three basic attitudes: i. To listen. Listen to that word God is speaking to you over and over again. A lockdown is an opportunity for a bit of concentrated, serious listening. What kind of disciple am I called to be? How am I to witness to the crucified and risen Christ in my earthly life? How will His love shape my actions, my concerns and attitudes? 2 ii. Seek guidance from those already living a Christian vocation. For example, if you think you have a vocation to married life, speak and listen to those couples who have that vocation. If you think God is calling you to be a monk or religious, then spend time in a monastery or convent – experience a life of prayer lived in community. If you see a permanent Deacon, a married man and an ordained minister, and something moves you, then speak to him. If you are single, then seek the support of others who are living their baptismal promises with joy and faith. If you think God is speaking the word ‘priest’ to you, then have a chat with a priest. And finally respond. You do need to respond to God. Don’t put it off. Potius Hodie quam cras. Rather today than tomorrow. And all that takes courage. To be a man or woman of faith. To live by the movements of grace. To have the wisdom to see the good, the true and the beautiful in our culture, but to be ready to challenge that which is godless and deforms souls. To be a witness to hope and an ambassador of God’s mercy. To be proud to be a Catholic and, by our commitment, honour the witness of our ancestors who laid down their lives for love of Christ. Yes, to love Jesus, the light that cuts through the darkness, the darkness that chokes love and casts its thickening shadows over so many lives, that darkens our minds and blinds us to the needs of others, especially the weakest and poorest...all this takes courage. It was so in the age of Ralph Sherwin. It is so in our own time. I have some sense that the hallmark of my identity is the Cross and my profound happiness, the Resurrection. I’m not always sure what that means but I’m convinced it means something, something I cannot live without. Twenty-three years of trying to live my vocation as a priest, I thank God for giving me enough courage to listen to the word he has spoken and continues to speak to me. And you, my friends, pray for a little courage. Listen to the Good Shepherd. Seek guidance. Respond. Today rather than tomorrow. 3 .