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Ordinary Miracles

A scant four weeks ago the Church returned to Ordinary Time, by far its longest liturgical season, making up two thirds of the Church year.  Ordinary Time … one would think nothing significant happens when we are in the midst of the ordinary.  We think of ordinary as drab, boring, mundane. Yet most of us live in primarily ordinary, humdrum ways. And too often, we waste those days anticipating our next big adventure.  Have we missed something, I wonder? 

After the excitement of Christmas and Advent, when we were abuzz with preparations firstly and celebration secondly, it can feel almost a let down to come to this apparent lackluster time of year when not much is happening.  Social media posts frequently mention that ‘soon’ we will notice a difference in the arrival of darkness at the end of the day; ‘soon’ we will see more concrete evidence of disappearing snow and warmer temperatures; ‘soon’ it will be March break; and ‘soon,’ Mark mentioned in his request for our palms, we will be in Lent.  Soon, soon, soon … in our urgency to get to the next big event in our life, we may be wishing it away. 

There is nothing ordinary about Ordinary Time if we look at it with the right eyes. Plenty of holiness can take place in ordinary situations; ordinary people can be filled with this holiness. “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle,” (attributed to Albert Einstein).  Imagine how amazing our lives could be, if we lived as though everything is a miracle.   

It takes a great deal of energy to live high moments.  The lead up to them alone can zap our strength. Look at the vigor required today by parents of young children particularly, to have perfectly organized homes; well behaved, engaging and talented children who are provided every opportunity to be successful; fulfilling and lucrative careers. Add to that the stress which can be generated in the ‘high’ moments. Gosh they must be yearning for ordinary days. 

Five years ago, at this time, we were about to enter a global pandemic.  While I, along with most of you, was concerned about what this meant for our futures, I remember also feeling a certain sense of relief that I could finally step off the treadmill, breathe out, and slow down.  Because for the first time in my life, there was nothing I could do, except be. What we were about to experience was anything but ordinary. In fact, in most situations, the response of the world was extraordinary. Yet, much of what we encountered during those first few months, has become the norm today.

The Church concedes that “perhaps we do not really understand Ordinary Time. … [We] are too easily distracted by special days and events and occasions that seem to have greater glitter.” (National Bulletin on Liturgy, Vol 33, CCCB). So true. If it’s not flashy it’s not seen as holy, I heard an Anglican priest say recently. But consider this. Since entering Ordinary Time, we have heard that all of us have important gifts; that Jesus preformed his first miracle at a wedding; that the Hebrew people heard the Word of God for the first time in 70 years when they were finally released from Babylon; that every member of Christ’s Body is indispensable; that Jesus is the fulfillment of what we were promised in Isaiah; that this same Jesus has experienced suffering just as we have; that what is promised by the Holy Spirit will be kept; that the prophet Isaiah was called by God; that Jesus calls ordinary people to follow him, the first of whom were three simple fishermen.  Pretty extraordinary events in these ordinary days. 

What if… we saw the glass of wine offered by our spouse at the end of a difficult day as a miracle? What if …we saw the sun painting the sky at its rising and setting as a miracle? What if …we saw the opportunity to gather with friends/family for a shared meal of laughter as a miracle? What if …we saw an Episcopalian Bishop ask her president to show mercy as a miracle? How extraordinary would the ordinary become, and then by extension, our very lives. 

~Ellen Bennett