Tag: <span>Ordinary</span>

March 8, 2021February 23, 2021

Ho-Hum

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

The first reading is a breathtaking illustration of how obedience to God, even when all He asks of us is the ordinary, brings about miracles. We see over and over again through salvation history how this simple obedience in trust brings about disproportionately great results. The best example of this in any creature is that of the Blessed Virgin Mary, whose obedience led to her role as active and powerful collaborator in the furthering of her Son’s infinitely powerful act of salvation.

It is hard to obey, when the ordinary is involved. Just as in the first reading Naaman found it hard to submit to the ordinary command to bathe in the river for the cure of his leprosy, so Jesus’ hearers in the gospel find it hard to accept that Jesus, who has grown up in an ordinary way among them, has anything extraordinary to bring to the table.

If we wish to obtain miraculous results like Naaman in the first reading–and even better, like the Blessed Virgin Mary–we must learn to submit in trust to the ordinary duties of love that God introduces into our lives, and know that it is precisely in the midst of those ordinary duties, with all their stresses and challenges, that He will perform the miracle.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to help you to trust that the ordinary that surrounds you, with all its challenges, is precisely the stage where Providence will perform its wondrous miracles. Tell Him that you are not attached to some false context that you may dream of, but to the gritty reality that He has given you–because it is He who has given it to you.

Follow the Author on Twitter:
Follow @mvhaywilliams

January 11, 2021January 4, 2021

It Starts

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

As usual, today’s readings and this moment in the liturgical year are multi-layered, like some sort of amazing millefoglie cake.

Today is the first day of ordinary time. Humdrum, one might think–time to get back to the routine grind. Upside? Maybe the predictability of it, and the thought that we can use the routine for growth and progress.

But our first reading and psalm come off as anything but ordinary.

The first reading speaks of the refulgence of Christ’s glory, of God speaking to us in the last days through His Son, of the Son’s stature as superior to the angels. This reading is positively oozing with glory.

And not surprisingly, the psalm punctuates the first reading: “Let all the angels worship Him.”

This all seems rather extraordinary, until we realize that status quo (“ordinary” if you will) for God is a state of glory. For us, the just-past Christmas season is about glory; the glorious bursting of God into the world. For God, Christmas was a descent, even a sort of self-abasement, for our sakes. Similarly, while the “ordinary” for us implies humdrum and earthly, for God it is nothing short of unending exaltation.

What is exciting for us about this, in our ordinary lives, as clearly comes through in the placement of this first reading at the beginning of Ordinary Time: Even in the midst of our “ordinary,” we can participate in God’s extraordinary “ordinary,” through union with Him–in anticipation of His “ordinary” becoming our “ordinary” as well.

As if this all were not enough, the gospel for today brings us to a completely different place, parallel in its richness: Jesus begins His “ordinary” ministry the day after we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord, which marks the beginning of that ministry. We have the opportunity of meditating on what it was like for Him to begin His labor in earnest, as we begin the labor of a new year.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus how He combined the arduous reality of His daily ministry with a continuous connection through prayer to the glory of His Father in Heaven. Ask Him how He would like you to combine these two realities in your life.

Follow the Author on Twitter:
Follow @mvhaywilliams

December 30, 2020December 24, 2020

Pretention

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.

There is a strikingly ordinary pair of lines at the close of today’s gospel, which could apply to any Christian child in grace: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”

The child grew and became strong. A pleasant line, but an incredibly ordinary one–in stark contrast to the portentous utterances of Simeon and joyful acclaim of Anna the prophetess. There are no words, not one, about the child Jesus doing anything wondrous, anything that any other blessed child might not do.

This ordinary summation of the entire childhood of Jesus seems to reflect and fulfill St. John’s admonition in the first reading to avoid love for the world, for “…enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life, is not from the Father but is from the world.”

Immediately we hear John’s words and consider the life of Jesus, and we think, “I am not worldly. I am not pretentious. I am ordinary. I am on Jesus’ side in this equation.”

And surely, we are. But perhaps there is a bit of room for further self-examination here. For, there are surely very few in the world who would call themselves pretentious. And yet, we know well that there are many in the world who are, in fact, pretentious.

Have we ever dreamt of having our full worth recognized by the world, in some way? Of our talents receiving full recognition? Has this not in fact at times congealed into an actual objective, a hidden motive that has driven real exertion and effort on our part?

At first glance, the quest for due recognition may not feel like pretention. But consider this: The infinite value that you perceive in yourself, while in the light of God’s love is legitimate and objectively real, is a characteristic of every one of the billions of human beings walking the planet. If each were to receive his/her “due recognition,” the planet’s productivity would grind to a halt. There would be no time to do anything but recognize each other.

It is for this reason that any longing for due recognition may truly fall under the heading of pretention. And when you think about it, it is this longing that typically leads others to acts that we acknowledge as pretentious.

Just as true accommodation of the need for due recognition would grind the world to a halt, we must recognize in our own lives that, if we were truly to obsess on love of neighbor, we would discover that there is not nearly enough time in life to accomplish all that we want to accomplish in that realm.

And certainly, as in the childhood of Jesus, there would be not time for pretentious acts seeking vain recognition.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to purify the inertia and impetus of your heart so that it is filled with a desire for the happiness of others. Ask Him to send the Holy Spirit to fill your heart with the same obsessive passion for the happiness–especially eternal happiness–of other persons that He displayed throughout His life.

Follow the Author on Twitter:
Follow @mvhaywilliams