It has been said that generosity is the keynote of our religion. Christ himself is the prime example of this, since in loving us, “he gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering” (Eph. 5:2) to the Father. It is his example that we are called to imitate in our total self-offering. The Psalmist is our guide here, when he writes: “I will offer unto thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and call upon the name of the Lord” (Ps. 115:8), and the same sentiment is given in the Letter to the Hebrews where we read: “Through Jesus Christ let us continually offer up to God the sacrifice of praise, that is the tribute of our lips which acknowledges his name.” (13:15) This principally concerns our prayer, vocal and liturgical, but it equally applies to our silent or mental prayer, which Evelyn Underhill describes in her study Worship as a “speechless self-offering, a total oblation of personality” and she uses the image of the burnt offering to express the total self-loss of the creature in the Father, which is the end of worship: union with God. “He must increase, I must decrease.” (Jn 3:30) John the Baptist points the way.

Of course, our offering of prayer is a part, a vital part, of our offering of ourselves, and we do not make it alone. It is always made effective because offered “through Jesus”. And in union with his Body, the Church, we are enabled to make it, not through our own strength, but through the action of the Holy Spirit. Thus the offering is indeed ours, but it is a real response to grace, freely and gladly given.

I recall reading somewhere once, a very helpful insight, which is that if we see prayer quite simply as an offering, we shall be relieved by any anxiety to make prayer “successful”. Offerings simply have to be made. It doesn’t do any good to fret about whether or not my prayer is doing any good or having any effect — any more than caring if the recipient of a gift will make good use of it. Naturally, for example, we should hope that any birthday money we might give to a grandchild would be properly spent, but does it help to ask her persistently how she did so? An offering is simply to be made and a gift given, without strings and conditions. 

Our prayers are often, perhaps even mostly, imperfectly framed and said without much feeling of sensible devotion, but nevertheless, we make them and offer them, as broken and unsatisfactory as they may seem. Yet, if we can make them gladly and lovingly, they are accepted and treasured in a manner beyond our comprehension. It is true that God loves a cheerful giver, which means far more than money and almsgiving, but the total self-offering of our lives. There are days when the last thing we feel like doing is praising God, but still, we do it. The offering is there and the Lord is surely well pleased.

Having celebrated the feast of an Oratorian who was also a missionary, then that of an Oratorian who was also a bishop, this week we come to the feast of Blessed Sebastian Valfrè. Unlike Saint Joseph Vaz, he stayed in his Oratory in Turin for his whole life rather than undertaking missionary work and, unlike Saint Francis de Sales, he remained a priest his whole life, satisfying himself with the simple work of the Oratory in his home city. It may feel like we’ve finally found a real Oratorian, but the question is: do we like what we see?

Even if we are not willing to leave the comfort of our homes to imitate him, the adventures of Saint Joseph Vaz bear a certain romance for us. We can rather vividly imagine him stopping elephants with the power of prayer, or calling down rain to show the power of Almighty God. Likewise, the image of Saint Francis de Sales crossing the alps and converting thousands in an attempt to regain his diocese from Calvinist control has a magnitude which makes us admire it in awe. What it takes to admire Blessed Sebastian in the same way is an Oratorian view of mission: one which sees painstaking and careful work at home as no less valuable than heroic tales of mission abroad.

Blessed Sebastian is also known for his careful repairs of the Shroud of Turin. Those of us who have ever sewn anything know that big stitches tear more easily and thread matched to the colour of the fabric will not be noticed itself, but will be more beneficial for the garment which it repairs. Thus, the work of Blessed Sebastian in patching up the fabric of Christian society mirrored his careful repairs of the Blessed Shroud because he promoted both the welfare of Catholics and the conversion of Protestants and Jews not through great missions but unnoticed in prayer, preaching, and the administration of the Sacraments patiently carried out over a long life of 81 years.

That is a source of encouragement for us and the reason why we celebrate Blessed Sebastian’s seemingly ordinary life. Our lives, on the whole, are ordinary too and like Blessed Sebastian it is by bringing God into every aspect of them and carrying him to everyone we meet that we can participate in that slow but great mission of bringing the whole world to Christ. For that we need patience and perseverance, which Blessed Sebastian can demonstrate for us and help us to obtain.

We are now three weeks into 2026, and for some of us, we might be starting to accept that those New Year’s resolutions we made have already fallen by the wayside: gym memberships going unused, the biscuit tin full of KitKats again, Dry January becoming more of a Moist January…

These resolutions are all noble efforts, but of course, the most important resolutions are those that deepen our relationship with God. If the thought of an early morning run seems unattainable, perhaps we can instead find ways to grow closer to God. On Saturday we will celebrate the feast of St Francis de Sales of the Oratory. He is perhaps most well-known for his writings on the spiritual life, and he has some advice for us as we begin a new year:

Anyone who really cares for his heart’s devotion… at least once a year he will take the works to pieces and examine them carefully so as to repair whatever may be amiss. And just as the clockmaker applies a delicate oil to all the wheels and springs of a clock, so that it may work properly and be less liable to rust, so the devout soul, after thus taking the works of his heart to pieces, will lubricate them with the Sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist.

So then if we take St Francis de Sales’ counsel as our starting point, we might resolve this year to go to Mass and Confession more often. The frequent reception of these Sacraments nourishes our souls and transforms our hearts. But quite often it can feel like we are making no progress in the spiritual life: we might find that our prayer life has become dry or that we are always confessing the same sins.

We are all familiar with the saying “patience is a virtue” — but it truly is a virtue, and one that we must cultivate. St Francis de Sales encourages us to have patience first of all with ourselves. We must put up with our own imperfections on our journey towards perfection. He reminds us that it is true God sometimes calls people instantaneously from a sinful life to a virtuous one, as he did with St Mary Magdalen. But on the other hand, the majority of us are more like St Peter. We are called by God, but on our spiritual journey we fall frequently. St Peter went as far as to deny knowing Our Lord, yet he was still chosen by Christ to lead the Church.

We must first of all then be patient. Each and every day we all called to conversion, so we can treat every day as a mini-New Year’s Day and renew our resolutions. Therefore, let us not lose heart but strive to grow in holiness through prayer and the sacraments, that we might make the words of the prophet Isaiah our own: “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

When compared with most religious orders, the Oratory seems to have quite few beati, let alone saints (though we are now ahead of most on the Doctor-of-the-Church front). Because of this, at times, there has been the suggestion that we claim members who weren’t really Oratorians to boost our numbers in heaven.

Such a charge has sometimes been levelled in the case of St Joseph Vaz, and it is true that we are always pleased on the rare occasion that we find a painting of him wearing our distinctive collar. But the question arises: is it just the collar that makes St Joseph Vaz an Oratorian and therefore an example to follow in the Oratorian spirituality?

In fact, it is quite the opposite. When we extend the Oratorian spirituality beyond the congregation and into our parish and city, it is clear that some of the externals must fall away. That is why St Joseph Vaz, as both a missionary and an Oratorian is such a key example to consider. Because he did away with practically all of the externals we may consider essential for an Oratorian, including stability, life in community, and even the distinctive collar, he shows us how the Oratorian spirituality can lead to sanctity in any setting.

To take a trivial example, St Philip may have had run ins with women of loose morals, but he never had to contend with angry elephants. But, because St Joseph Vaz did, he gives us an example of how that perseverance in prayer that characterised St Philip’s life can also shine forth in a missionary living a hundred years later and 5,000 miles away. In this way, St Joseph Vaz’s example shows us the key role that the Oratory’s focus on prayer, preaching, and the sacraments has in every place and every age.

In the context of the Oratorian concept of the universal call to sanctity, the same spirituality when clothed with different externals is what allowed St Philip to convert Rome, St Joseph Vaz to be a successful missionary in Sri Lanka, and St John Henry Newman to bolster Catholicism in England. If we entrust ourselves to God and follow the many different examples of all of our Oratorian Saints, thrown into such different circumstances, it is that same spirituality which can help each of us to become a saint too.