The Church season between Pentecost and Advent is called Ordinary time. It can seem like an endless period of drab, vibrant or basic green, the season’s liturgical color. One can tire of green and ordinary worship and long for the fiery red of Pentecost or the calm blue of Advent.
As we wonder what the daily will look like post (we hope) pandemic after fifteen months of anything but ordinary, I invite us each to seek out the gifts and sacredness of our routines and the world around us as we go about our lives. Let’s appreciate green and ordinary.
Ted and I awaken fairly early each day, share morning coffee, read, pray, sit and note the birds and flora of the backyard (maybe not when it was 48 degrees this week), walk. During this ordinary early morning activity, one can glimpse God in the dailyness, the sameness and the subtle changes. This is a gift of ordinary time.
For some, doctors’ appointments and waiting now are part of the daily. Shopping, cooking, cleaning, (re)connecting with work colleagues, caring for children are the stuff of our lives. Sometimes these activities feel like burdens and grind us down. This, however, is life, and life is a gift of ordinary time. May we begin to see the sacred in our days whatever they contain.
We are shedding most all of our covid restrictions in worship now, and rehearsing the choreography of praise, thanksgiving, Scripture and Eucharist in a new ordinary. Routines are coming back after a long season of near constant adjustment to connect in worship without spreading illness. We find comfort in the ordinary of liturgy as it provides a space to offer ourselves toward a deeper and communal encounter with God.
Let us then welcome ordinary time, though I prefer to wear red or blue or the pink of joy.
Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention. Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul. May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven Around the heart of wonder From “For Presence,” in John O’Donohue’s To Bless the Space Between Us
With every blessing,