The Holiness of the Ordinary 

A friend of mine was the pastor of a large parish in South Jersey. Every year at Christmas time, he set up a large traditional manger scene near the front of the altar, but he also erected an alternative display of Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus in the spacious vestibule of his church. He made good use of mannequins and a few props. One year he displayed the holy family as Latino migrants huddled by a wall near the U.S-Mexico border. Another time, Joseph and Mary were bikers, complete with leather jackets and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. One year he displayed a homeless family huddled in a makeshift tent. Each Christmas, parishioners looked forward to the latest modern depiction of the nativity.

It struck me that what my friend was doing was reminding people that holiness wasn’t just present with the birth of Jesus two thousand years ago but that the holy exists in our world today, and in very ordinary circumstances. We are surrounded by holy families. St. Joseph, who never says a word in the gospels, must have played a pivotal role in forming Jesus into the person he was to become, as all parents do today. He did so in a small, out of the way village far from the centers of power and civilization in Rome and Jerusalem. His influence on Jesus came through in his steadfast love for his wife and child and the unheralded work he did in his shop. Jesus himself spent most of his life, except for perhaps three years, doing the manual labor he learned from his earthly father. Even when Jesus went on his missionary crusade to call for a different way for people to be together, he apparently seldom traveled far from his neighboring countryside where people worked in humble occupations and lived simple lives. At least once, he journeyed south to Jerusalem. If he went there more than once, or if he traveled farther, there is no mention of it in the gospels.

A number of books have been written recently that speak about what might be called the “spirituality of the ordinary.” One author laments that so many models of saintliness are people who led celibate lives and were never married with families. (A few recently canonized saints break that mold, such as St. Joanna Beretta Molla, wife, mother, active athlete, and medical doctor.)  Married couples were more often exalted when they chose to live together in a celibate relationship after their children had grown. This author calls for what she termed “between the sheets” spirituality, recognition that the sexual life of wives and husbands is sacramental. We could add “around the table” spirituality, “going out with friends on a weekend” spirituality, “getting up and going to work” spirituality as examples of the spirituality of the ordinary. Besides married couples, a large number of adult Catholics lead a single life, either by choice or by circumstance. What does spirituality look like for them? What models of saintliness does the church put forth for people who give their lives working in service professions or come home to an empty apartment after their day’s work? The Holy Family of Nazareth was holy when “Joseph and Son” worked together in the building trades while Mary, wife and mother, kept house and cooked meals and made do with whatever she could get from the local market. When Jesus entered into his public life, he advocated for people struggling to make it who lived on the lower social and economic rungs of society. In his words, his message was good news for those who are poor, freedom for those in prison, sight for those who are blind, and liberation from oppression (Luke 4:18). He offered people hope, a vision of what he saw as the will of God especially for people beaten down and trying to get by. Ordinary people living ordinary lives, such as his own family, were holy, children of God, and an unacclaimed and often overlooked blessing for the world.