by Anamaria Scaperlanda Biddick, for the Sooner Catholic
In the corner of the living room sits a small table, currently covered with a gold table cloth. An image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus – a wedding gift painted by my sister-in-law’s mother – sits in the center, flanked by two candles, accented by a crucifix and a tile depicting the Holy Family’s flight into Egypt. At times, a funeral card or saints card is added, commemorating a loved one’s passing or a feast day. Often, hand-picked flowers are added by a child.
It is an old practice, the Catholic tradition of a home altar or little oratory, but one that is relatively new to me, adopted a year or two into marriage. Like most religious practices with deep roots, its meaning in my life has grown over time.
At its most simple, the icon serves as a focal point, redirecting my thoughts as I pray. When my mind wanders, it brings me back to focus on the heart of Jesus.
Similarly, its simple presence lifts my thoughts to the eternal throughout the day. Mired in my mental to-do list, my thoughts are raised to God’s infinite love for me. The small work of the day becomes a way of radiating God’s love to those around me. I am no longer caught up solely in the minutiae of daily life; rather, I can see the connection between these little tasks and eternity.
Recently, our oratory has become a method in beginning catechesis as the baby begins to explore the physical space. She pulls up on the table, like any other table, and is told, “No, no, not for babies. This is a place to pray to Jesus.” Before too long, she has already learned that it is a place set up apart, not a place to play. “Jesus,” she says as she looks at the image of his Sacred Heart.
Since we first set up this humble place of prayer, it has served as a gathering place for family prayer. It is often the place we begin and end our day, in thanksgiving to God. We recite portions of the Liturgy of the Hours, make our petitions and express our sorrow over wrongdoings. We sing the Regina Caeli and recite the Angelus.
By praying the Liturgy of the Hours, the cycle of psalms, readings and hymns, we extend the Eucharistic Liturgy and bring it into our home, allowing it to permeate our daily lives.
In “The Little Oratory: A Beginner’s Guide to Prayer in the Home” by David Clayton and Leila Lawler, they write, “We found the truth of Jesus’ precept that the Christian life comes down to two things: love of God and love of neighbor. At the center of the first is our worship at Mass; the center of the second is built in the home and radiates outward.”
The little oratory in the home, they write, unites the two by “extending the Eucharistic worship into the heart of the home, which becomes the visible sign of everything else.”
“The little oratory – prayer table, icon corner or even dining room table – isn’t only a physical place; it’s a way of thinking that simplifies everything. The spiritual place in the home mirrors the ‘interior palace’ of our soul, as Saint Teresa of Avila called it. At the same time, it allows us to live the liturgical life of the Church. If we get this right, it orders the rest and brings peace.”