Ordinary Time
Photo by Paul Moody on Unsplash
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
The season without festivals,
without fanfare,
without high holy days
or the weeks of
preparation.
planning,
and penitence
that lead up to them.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
the season after
all of the major seasons
and celebrations are done –
after the waiting
and the birthing
and the seeking
and the baptizing
and the transfiguring
and the tempting
and suffering
and the dying
and the rising
and the appearing
and the ascending
and the Spirit-pouring-out.
It is the season after
the Incarnation
has been promised
and completed –
in both
literal
and liturgical time.
It is Ordinary Time in the church
the season when
the Gospel readings
take us into
the ordinary days
of Jesus’ life
and ministry
with ordinary followers,
encountering ordinary people
in their ordinary struggles
and their ordinary needs –
questions and confusions,
prejudices and problems –
sickness and death,
belief –
and unbelief,
societal systems
and religious rules.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
the time when
the ordinary every-day-ness
of Jesus
intersects
and connects
and re-directs
the ordinary every-day-ness
of our own lives –
often in ways
we do not
expect.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
the time when we are reminded that
the “behold I make all things new”
is sometimes realized
in the present tense
and all too often,
not.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
the time of living between
no longer
and not yet –
no longer without hope,
not yet without despair,
no longer in bondage,
not yet free,
no longer rejected
not yet accepted.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
and I feel it
in my bones
and spirit
and my very being
Ordinary –
as in
regular,
everyday,
commonplace,
usual –
normal –
And unlike the declaration
of the Divine
upon all things
at the dawn of Creation –
it is not good.
It is Ordinary Time in the church,
the time when it is still
regular,
everyday,
commonplace,
normal –
for Queer Rostered Leaders –
and candidates for ordination
to still bear the burden of bigotry
upon our shoulders
and in our hearts
and within our bodies
and to our livelihoods.
In a church with
hundreds of parishes
without Rostered Leaders –
and counting –
in a church that
struggles to convince people
that God just might be calling them
to ordained ministry,
in a church that is facing
the first generation of its young adults
to not return
after they have
wondered and wandered,
examined and explored,
rebuffed and rejected
the church and all that it entails—
In this church
Queer Rostered Leaders
and candidates for ordination
still wait longer,
face more obstacles,
have fewer options,
and face more barriers
to living into the call that
God has placed upon our hearts
and that the church
in its systems
has affirmed
but still struggles to actually
fully embrace
and embody
in practice.
It is Ordinary Time in the church –
the time when synod colleagues
still say things like,
“Well, there would be limited places for you to serve here
because of who you love.”
And pastoral colleagues say things like,
just last week, in fact –
“Many (in this congregation)
Would struggle with your choice of spouse.”
And mentors say things like,
“These things take time.
It’s just the way it is in these places.”
And with such words
the burden of bigotry is placed
not on the system
or on the congregation
or on the people
who consider
not
the gifts for ministry
or the proclamation of the Gospel
or the call of the Spirit –
but on the Queer person
or their spouse –
seriously?
to accept
or understand
or at least live with
that’s just the way it is.
It is Ordinary Time in the church.
And yes,
I am so grateful for the strides that have been made –
for the boundaries that have been moved,
for the bridges that have been built,
for the walls that have begun to crumble,
for the growing number of people and congregations
who proclaim
and live
that God’s liberating love
is indeed for all –
no exceptions,
without question
or reserve.
I am so grateful
for the growing number of people and congregations
who proclaim
and live
that we are all baptized in the same waters,
we are all covered with the same Word,
we are all anointed with the same oil,
we are all marked with the same cross,
we are all sealed with the same Holy Spirit,
we are all claimed,
named,
and called
by the same Jesus who is Holy Love
for all –
with all –
filling all –
accompanying all –
loving all –
and yet,
and yet –
I long for an Ordinary Time in the church
when it is truly
radical love
that defines
and drives
and determines
both who
and how we are
with one another
and for the sake of the world.
It is not lost on me
that Ordinary Time in the church
almost always begins
at nearly the same time
as Pride Month –
a time to celebrate
the beauty
and delight
of LGBTQ+ people
living
open,
joy-filled,
authentic lives,
even as we
acknowledge
the
past,
present,
and ongoing struggles
to do so.
It is not lost on me
that when the church
is draped in green –
not a bad color by any means –
a color of life
and growth
and hope –
at a time when the church
is draped in green,
Pride
colors the world
with the rainbow –
with every color that there is,
with the entire spectrum
of beauty –
and it is good,
so very GOOD!
And I wonder,
I wonder
what it would be like
for Ordinary Time in the church –
Ordinary Time
that is both
liturgical time
and all times –
to be known by
and to embody
such
an expansive beauty
that we
need not hide behind
who you love
or
the way things are
because indeed,
all things have been made new.
After all,
isn’t that our call
as followers of Jesus –
to be Jesus –
Divine Love Embodied –
in Ordinary Time in the church
and for the world?
Wouldn’t it be something
if that was
regular,
everyday,
commonplace,
normal?
Wouldn’t it be something
if that was Ordinary Time?
