The pace of these months prompts me to pray these lovely petitions.
By now, you’ve likely heard of “nun summer” (if not, you’ll be blessed to read this lovely article).
People who know me well know that I am Austenian at heart, so, for me, it’s always a “Jane Austen summer.”
What does this mean, practically?
I reread the beloved novels and seek out related adaptations. (Recommended: The Other Bennet Sister, both the limited series and the book, though I am not quite finished with the novel.)
I think of Miss Austen when I enjoy a good scone and when I give flowers pride of place at home. The loveliness of blooms at this time of year is peak Austen (with a side of whimsy-maxxing, perhaps).
And I seek out moments of rest and good company, trying to live well this line from Sense and Sensibility: “I know the summer will pass happily away.”
I also pray Austen’s own prayers — including in work meetings, as my colleagues can attest. But I digress.
Summer’s pace, which beckons rest, prompts me to pray these lovely petitions:
But as dear Jane died on this date in 1817, and considering eternity, I have returned this week to her “Third Prayer,” particularly these passages:
Father of Heaven! whose goodness has brought us in safety to the close of this day, dispose our hearts in fervent prayer.
Another day is now gone, and added to those for which we were before accountable. Teach us, Almighty Father, to consider this solemn truth, as we should do, that we may feel the importance of every day, and every hour as it passes, and earnestly strive to make a better use of what thy goodness may yet bestow on us than we have done of the time past.
Give us grace to endeavour after a truly Christian spirit to seek to attain that temper of forbearance and patience of which our blessed Saviour has set us the highest example; and which, while it prepares us for the spiritual happiness of the life to come, will secure to us the best enjoyment of what this world can give.
Incline us oh God! to think humbly of ourselves, to be severe only in the examination of our own conduct, to consider our fellow-creatures with kindness, and to judge of all they say and do with that charity which we would desire from them ourselves.
More particularly do we pray for the safety and welfare of our own family and friends wheresoever dispersed, beseeching Thee to avert from them all material and lasting evil of body or mind; and may we by the assistance of thy Holy Spirit so conduct ourselves on earth as to secure an eternity of happiness with each other in thy heavenly kingdom. Grant this most merciful Father, for the sake of our blessed Saviour in whose holy name and words we further address Thee.
I recognize in these heartfelt invocations echoes of Austen’s novels. For example:
Pride and Prejudice reminds us that we must strive for self-discovery — and a charitable, neither prideful nor prejudicial, assessment of others — and love is a verb, as Mr. Darcy so masterfully illustrates. (Pro tip: You can listen to this classic in a new audiobook format.)
Sense and Sensibility, of course, offers a study of sense and sensibility (emotional sensitivity) — and the beauty of “an excellent heart” (and also why a certain colonel outshines his competition).
Speaking of hearts (“There could have never been two hearts so open …”), Persuasion’s core is 1 Corinthians 13, in all of its emotional depth.
And then there’s Mr. Knightley’s true knightliness, which conveys agape and compels Emma to become a better version of herself (finally).
For all that, Austen’s philosophy of life and love has a lot in common with that of philosopher Peter Kreeft (be prepared for the resulting outpouring of sensibility).
