The Church, in her great Vatican Council II document Lumen Gentium, reminded every Catholic, and indeed the world, of the Church’s universal call to holiness (LG 39). All of us, whether bishop or deacon, married or single, young or old, is called to sainthood. How true this statement is! The problem is sainthood seems so far out there, so tailored for those monks or missionaries that the average Joe Pew-Sitter might not concern himself with pursing sainthood. This is a great tragedy. To fail to become a saint is to miss the very reason for our existence. Worse yet, failing this call does not simply mean living eternity as an average Joe. Nay! To fail in this call is to be forever subjected to the tormenting fires of hell. Have the stakes ever been higher? Yikes!
Given the tallness of this order, it is fair to ask how holiness can be achieved? How is the typical housewife or single college student to pursue this holiness? Doesn’t it require a trip to Calcutta to work with Mother Teresa’s sisters and the poorest of the poor? Who has time for that when exams are due and lunches for the kids need to be made?
While a trip to bask in Mother Teresa’s sisters’ shadows might be helpful, it certainly is not necessary. We can, and should, find opportunities for holiness in the average ordinariness of everyday life. How can I say this? When the Second Person of the Trinity became The Incarnate One, He changed everything. Jesus, by becoming man, sanctified humanity, such that even the grind of the everyday can be a steppingstone to Heaven. Indeed, the Catechism of the Catholic Church says, “During the greater part of His life Jesus shared the condition of the vast majority of human beings; a daily life spent without evident greatness, a life of manual labor” (CCC 531). In other words, Jesus did the things that Average Joe did. He worked. He went to synagogue. He served His family. And because of this, “The hidden life at Nazareth allows everyone to enter into fellowship with Jesus by the most ordinary events of daily life” (CCC 533). There is something redeeming about submitting to a boss, or the demands of daily life: it helps reverse the disobedience of the Fall. There is something praiseworthy about the quiet life: it keeps us from pride that foments rebellion.
Ahh…but there is a caveat here, a catch. A wrinkle that cannot be overlooked. Though it is true we can be holy in the midst of the ordinary, it is never true that holiness is ordinary. I think we make that mistake when we settle. By settling I mean, in part, that we reserve something for ourselves, rather than submitting everything to Christ. He wants the extraordinary, we want the ordinary. In other words, we prefer the “where we are” to the “who we might become”. It might come in the form of an unhealthy attachment to work. Perhaps I “overlook” a budget line item that is inflated or scheduled to be spent on something unethical. I don’t want to cause waves. Perhaps I don’t quite tell the entire truth because it means keeping my income as it is, rather than risking a reduction. We all too easily justify or dismiss these “small” indiscretions by saying, “well…that’s life.” But in doing so, we admit that we prefer the ordinary, the way things are. In short, we prefer comfort. Even if it is the comfort of familiarity. This is not good because if there is one thing that kills our pursuit of holiness, it is the desire to stay the same, the desire to be ordinary.
Saints are anything but ordinary; there are no cookie cutter saints. Each is absolutely unique. Unrepeatable. They are like a handcrafted shard of glass, specifically cut and designed for just that specific spot on the stained-glass window of the Basilica Cathedral downtown. They are a marvel on their own and an absolute splendor when seen in light of the whole.
We, too, are anything but ordinary. God crafted us each in accord with His Own special design and plan. What we have to come to grips with is that right now this masterpiece is hidden within layers of rock. We must let the Divine Carpenter (or perhaps in this case, the Divine Mason) chip away at us. We must have the wisdom to understand that the ordinariness of the everyday is like so many small hammer blows that are ever so carefully chipping away the non-essentials. We must also recognize those moments when we are called to actively stand for the truth. Those moments are like special invitations from The Master Craftsman where He checks our resolve and longs to hear from us permission to, “Go ahead Jesus, continue your work.”
We must trust that Jesus will never deliver a blow that is too hard for us to withstand, nor too imprecise that He would inadvertently chip off the wrong piece. In short, we must be willing to be transformed. We must trust Him to do it.
We are not meant to be ordinary. We are meant to be extraordinary, even in the midst of the ordinary. Let the masterpiece shine through!
