Today, Catholics around the globe celebrated the Baptism of the Lord, the official liturgical end of the Christmas Season. We remember Christ's baptism in the Jordan River by his cousin, St. John the Baptist, and the beginning of His public life, which is the primary focus of the readings from now until Lent.
The most confusing thing for me was always being told the Baptism of our Lord was the official end of the Christmas Season, meaning it was part of it, and yet next Sunday is the 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time. That's not the real focus of why I'm writing today, just sort of a side thought that always pops up this time of year.
Christmas, of course, centers around Jesus' birth, Advent on preparation for that. Lent prepares for Holy Week and Easter, where we recall His arrival in Jerusalem, His institution of the most Holy Eucharist, Crucifixion and Resurrection. But what of Ordinary Time? The first Ordinary Time, between the end of the Christmas Season and Ash Wednesday, focuses primarily on Christ's earthly ministry, His teachings. The second Ordinary Time, after the end of the Easter Season, actually points toward now, our mission while on this earth. Then Christ the King ends the liturgical year, as we focus on His eternal reign, essentially celebrating what will be at the end of time. We know the end of the story, God wins, reigns forever, so why not celebrate it now, even though in linear time we still must wait?
My reason for bringing all this up is that as the Christmas Season winds down each year, I always find myself lamenting the term "ordinary" when referring to anything religious. Sure, a few songs at Mass here and there are none too impressive, but to be able to come into God's presence, to receive His Son, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity under the humble appearance of bread and wine? That is far from ordinary. Yet it is easy to lose God in the more mundane times of life. When the Nativity Scene is there in the church, it's easy to feel the wonder. When Alleluia is practically every other word after the Resurrection, the glory of it is palpable. During Advent and Lent, the sense of preparation, of the need for reform, it's easy to be humbled and be aware of our unworthiness. Ordinary Time, though, can feel just that. Perhaps that's deliberate.
St. Therese of Lisieux, also known as "The Little Flower," whom I will sometimes call "my girlfriend in heaven," (long story that perhaps I'll explain someday) did not view herself as someone who could do great things. She did, however, believe she could go about doing the little things in life with great love. This little nun who lived no more than two dozen years became a saint via this "little way" to Jesus. This simple young lady not only became a saint, but was also granted the title Doctor of the Church. Popes don't just hand that title out like central banks print money. One has to be a particularly inspiring individual for that title. Minds like Augustine and Thomas Aquinas becomes Doctors of the Church. Apparently, so do hearts like Therese.
So what does this have to do with me? Where does this lesson apply to my life? I wear many hats, musician, political activist, freight team member, yet the most important one God gives me is that of husband and father. As an at-home dad or househusband, there is plenty of ordinary work to do. Get breakfast ready and get the kids out the door in the morning, sweep, do laundry, mop, do the dishes, scrub the toilet, etc. On the surface, it's pretty ordinary, almost bland, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. When my three year old is still awake and defiant after 10 o'clock after being put to bed before 8, when a stomach bug makes its way through the family, when I'm meal planning, there are days I'd rather just crawl back in bed, hide my head under the covers, and just say, "Forget it, the same housework is just going to be there tomorrow," it's my love for my family that makes me get my butt in gear and do it. I'm imperfect, and sometimes it takes me time to rev up the engine, but I take care of those God has entrusted to my care.
Still, things get away from me. The work piles up, I get distracted, I get grumpy and don't feel like talking to anyone, and suddenly I'm not living my vocation very well. Is that the kind of fatherly love God has for me? Is that the kind of attitude Jesus came to earth to teach us to take? Absolutely not. He wants me to do all things I do, great and small, with an open, giving love.
Christ's public mission begins today. He has come to call His followers; will I say yes? His mission is to save souls; is mine open? His first place He comes is to His own people to wake them up; am I asleep? He will travel many miles, mainly in one of the most ordinary forms of travel, walking. He will perform miracles, make controversial proclamations, but He will also have many ordinary interactions. I, too, must take many ordinary steps in my mission, taking care of my family. What is your mission? Only you can answer that, but you will have your own share of ordinary moments and things to do. This Ordinary Time, let us embrace those moments and the people in them with extraordinary love in our hearts.
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