ELIJAH holds a special place among the figures in the Old Testament. Scripture says that he was “like a fire” and that his “word burned like a torch” (Sir 48:1). The first reading for this Sunday reveals, however, that the secret of this prophet lay not in his own inexhaustible strength, but in having learned to seek all his strength in God. After the threats he received following his victory over the priests of Baal, Elijah fled to Horeb and took refuge in a cave. There the Lord’s voice came to him and invited him to open his heart: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:9). The prophet responded by declaring his burning zeal for God’s covenant. Then he heard God’s voice again: “Go forth and stand upon the mount before the Lord” (1 Kings 19:11). A raging wind, an earthquake, and a fire passed before him, but the Lord was not in those unleashed forces. Only when he hears “a still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12) does Elijah recognize God’s presence. He covers his face with his mantle and stands before the Lord. Then he hears the same question again: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:13). And the prophet opens his heart in prayer and declares his loyalty to the Lord once more. After that experience, Elijah no longer remains hidden in the cave. Strengthened in his mission, he returns fearlessly to his people to anoint kings and prophets.
In a sense, our prayer is like Elijah’s. We come to pray because God calls us. And He asks us to begin with a sincere examination of our heart: “What are you doing here?” Sometimes, He asks us this question more than once, because fear leads us to remain enclosed in our cave, in our comfort zone; or because the forces agitating our inner world prevent us from hearing his voice. At other times, with the help of someone who guides us—the advice of a friend or a priest preaching a meditation, the words of the Pope or a saint, a suggestion in spiritual direction—our Lord teaches us to leave our cave and truly place ourselves in his presence. Thus we learn to listen to his inspirations and enter into his rest, allowing his presence to fill us with peace. It is then that we can hear his voice and discover and embrace his will, letting Him rekindle within us a sense of mission.
THE SECOND READING for this Sunday presents us with another person of prayer: Saint Paul. His letters are a treasure in which this man, so enamored of Christ, pours out the richness of his inner life. Like Elijah, the apostle, in opening his heart, also reveals an inner world filled with turmoil and fervent emotions. In his letter to the Romans, Paul reveals his suffering for those who close themselves off to the Gospel: “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brethren, my kinsmen by race” (Rom 9:2-3).
This sentiment expressed by Paul shows us that a life of prayer doesn’t diminish our concern for others. The peace with which God fills us in prayer has nothing to do with indifference; it does not isolate us from others or enclose us in an individualistic spiritual satisfaction. On the contrary, in prayer God makes us sharers in his ardent desires for redemption. In fact, prayer helps us to forge a heart like our Lord’s, “who is always concerned for the needs of his children, especially those in greatest need.”[1]
Elijah needs to leave the cave and return to his people. Paul never loses his affection for his brethren, despite the obstacles, hatred and persecution he suffers. And it is precisely through their prayer that our Lord keeps the fire of apostolic zeal burning in their hearts, which is compatible with the great peace that God communicates through his presence. Constant concern for others is thus manifested in intercession, a form of prayer proper to “a heart in harmony with God’s mercy.”[2] And therefore it is fitting that our prayer is “filled with faces and names,”[3] for there we present to God the needs of those He himself has placed on our path.
IN THIS SUNDAY’S GOSPEL, we see how Jesus harmonizes his search for solitude to pray with his care for others. After feeding the crowd with his word and the bread that He multiplied, our Lord withdraws to the mountain to pray. He feels the need to be alone with his Father and actively seeks that solitude. But prayer does not lead Him to forget his disciples. From the mountain, He watches them struggling against the wind and the waves, and He comes to them walking on the water in the midst of the storm. He draws near to encourage them and fill them with peace: “Take heart,” he tells them, “it is I; do not be afraid” (Mt 14:27). Peter, trusting in his word, also begins to walk on the water. But feeling the force of the wind, he is filled with fear and begins to sink. Then he cries out, “Lord, save me!” And Jesus immediately reaches out his hand and takes hold of him, saying, “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Mt 14:30-31).
Peter sinks when he takes his eyes off our Lord and lets himself be overcome by the force of the wind. Something similar can happen to us when we try to walk towards Jesus amidst the storms of daily life, relying on only a superficial interior life. Sometimes we find it difficult to harmonize prayer with our activities, and we may think it’s enough to set out to walk on the water without first caring for those times of solitude with God. But Jesus himself walks on the water in the midst of the storm after having prayed. To avoid sinking on our journey towards our Lord, we need a life of prayer that keeps our faith alive. As Saint Josemaría recommended: “Each day try to find a few minutes of that blessed solitude which you so much need to keep your interior life going.”[4]
This is the path Jesus teaches us, and which we also learn from Elijah, Paul, and all the saints: to seek the solitude and silence needed for prayer; and, from there, to let our Lord spur us to mission and service. Saint Teresa of Calcutta summed up this journey beautifully in a ladder whose first rung is the silence that makes it possible to hear God’s voice: “The fruit of silence is prayer. The fruit of prayer is faith. The fruit of faith is love. The fruit of love is service; and the fruit of service is peace.”[5] The Gospel shows us that this was also the Virgin Mary’s response, who dedicated time to considering the events in her life, pondering them in her heart (cf. Lk 2:19, 51). Our Lady can help us build our whole life on this solid foundation—a life of prayer.
[1] Leo XIV, Dilexi te, no. 8.
[2] Cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2365.
[3] Francis, Evangelii gaudium, no. 274.
[4] Saint Josemaría, The Way, no. 304.
[5] Saint Teresa of Calcutta, words quoted by Saint John Paul II, Speech, 20 October 2003.