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December 26, 2023Each year, as the Christmas season draws to a close, I find myself becoming a little sad. My son and older daughter return to their homes, and my younger daughter goes back to school. The decorations come down and are packed away in the attic for another year. My house seems large and empty; and though I know there is much to look forward to in the new year to come, there is a sorrowful reluctance to leave the mystery and majesty of Christmas behind.
Perhaps the return to the “ordinary days” is a reminder of my daily struggle to live a more significant Catholic life. Seeking success has often blinded me to the fact that the days ahead are, in reality, far from ordinary. The sad truth is that so many of us spend our ordinary days looking to accomplish extraordinary deeds, often missing the message that the mundane day-to-day activities of life reveal to us. We are so determined to leave our mark on the world that we forget that in every moment, God is leaving his mark on us.
I confess that too many times I have had this same inner emotional wrestling match at the close of the Christmas season. I have for too long striven for personal excellence, and not always for the right reasons. I confess too that I have sometimes been so caught up with the “more excellent” liturgical seasons of the Church year that I have failed to listen to the still small voice of God speaking to me in the simple beauty and profound depth of Ordinary Time. Lately, however, I have been reminded through trial and triumph, just how wonderful and blessed these “ordinary” days really are. In them, I have discovered a deeper appreciation for the Eucharist and the extraordinary power it has to settle my soul in a place of perfect satisfaction.
Come Away and Rest a While
I absolutely love incarnational theology. It is why Advent and Christmas resonate so powerfully in my soul, and why Lent and Easter often drive me to a period of deep inner contemplation and physical discipline. It is also why the sacraments of Eucharist and Confession cause my heart to beat with anticipation and joy each time I receive them. Still, the day-to-day struggles in my life, my failures as a man, and the desire to become more than I am, have led me to pause at the close of the old year as I step back and view my life and God’s incarnational influence over my ministry in a new and wonderful way.
I have been finding the simple pleasures of life warming my heart more and more. The personal goals that shape my writing and ministry have begun to assume their proper place as the ordinary days of the Church year resume. Those times I am able to get to daily Mass and receive the Eucharist have brought me an incredible contentment that washes over me, not like a crashing wave upon the shore, but like a gentle summer shower to cool my burning ambitions and my restless scorched soul.
Not so Ordinary Time
Ordinary Time allows us to walk the roads of ancient Palestine with Jesus, witnessing his miracles and hearing his teachings as he calls the world to repent and believe the Good News. We experience the emotions of everyday people searching for healing. We see the wonder and confusion in the disciples’ eyes as their Master turns their worlds upside down. We hear the anger and hatred in the words of the teachers of the law as they attempt to trap our Lord in speech and seek to take his life. The 5,000 are fed from five loaves and a few fish. The parables move the hearts of the people and challenge them to take a stand in the kingdom of God. Every moment is a call to see more than our eyes and ears reveal.
The messages I hear during Ordinary Time focus on the call of the Gospel to walk the narrow road to heaven one faithful step at a time. When I receive the Eucharist during Advent and Lent, there is always a solemn excitement and a reverent anticipation for the days of joy to come during Christmas and Easter. But as I receive the Body and Blood of the Lord during Ordinary Time, I hear the Savior calling me to come and rest my weary soul, to be fed and satisfied, to calm the storms of life and see them from a place high above the waves. I sense stillness in the midst of my daily struggles, and stability even when I feel there is no place to stand. Here my worries and vain strivings give way to tranquil days in pastures of rest.
I Could’ve Been Somebody
I have always been a restless soul, looking around the next corner for the bigger, better deal, searching for ways to satisfy my heavenly Father and please the world around me. It has driven me to places where I almost lost myself, my family, and my faith. My desire to “be somebody” would have been my downfall were it not for the love of the Savior who allowed the fire of trials to reshape my soul and sharpen my perspective on life. In those times when our family is apart from one another because of work and school and a thousand other little daily tasks, I have learned to hold my wife and children all the more closely in my heart. I see in the ordinary circumstances of family life a beauty that, like the greatest virtue, remains eternal and true. I have been blessed and more and more I truly take hold of that truth. It allows me to wait with confidence and peace for the sweet fellowship that the next extraordinary liturgical celebration will bring.
In receiving the Eucharist, I am discovering that yielding to the grace of God, rather than destroying my goals and desires, actually refines them more and more. The pettiness of my search for mediocre recognition or achievement is giving way to a profound understanding that in Christ, I am somebody fearfully and wonderfully made, an ordinary man who accomplishes extraordinary acts of love as a husband, a father, a writer, and a man of words. I worry much less about becoming a self-made man and am becoming more content to experience the inner transformation I have received through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross.
Just Another Day to Be Grateful
Each day we experience is truly an extraordinary endowment of grace that carries us from the cradle to the grave, from Baptism to Beatific Vision. The phrase “Ordinary Time” comes from the Latin word ordinalis, referring to ordered numbers in a series. It is a comfort to know that my days are truly numbered, counted out and set in order by the ruler of the universe, the One who sent his Son to set us free from our sins. Each day is a gift to be cherished and held as precious precisely because it has been determined from eternity and purposed for my life. And the Eucharist, that “ordinary” thing that happens at every Mass, is the perfectly planned supreme act of love set in motion from eternity and acted out in such a wonderfully orderly way upon the humanity’s stage. It is there at the cross that all “ordinary” Catholic men can experience the extraordinary power of salvation day by ordinary day.
I look forward to the days to come, as I see my marriage entering new times of discovery and joy, as I watch my children finding their way in the world, and as I witness my writing taking shape and leaving a legacy – even if it is a small one – for the kingdom of God. But I am also becoming more and more content to allow the ordinary days of my life and the lessons of Ordinary Time to present themselves to me as opportunities for growth and renewal, rest and refreshment. And each new experience of the Eucharist, whether in Ordinary Time or the major liturgical seasons of the Church year, will continue to challenge my soul and lead me along the narrow way on my extraordinarily ordinary journey to heaven.
