Seeking extraordinary holiness in ordinary
opportunities
1 Corinthians 5:1-8
Brothers and sisters: Your boasting is not appropriate. Do you not know that a little yeast leavens
all the dough? Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of
dough, inasmuch as you are unleavened. For our Paschal Lamb, Christ, has been
sacrificed. Therefore, let us celebrate the feast, not with the old yeast, the
yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and
truth.
Have you
caught much of the canonization coverage on the news lately where Pope Francis
declared Mother Teresa a saint? She is one of my personal patron saints, and I
mention her at the end of my daily rosary. But I’ll no longer have to say “Blessed
Mother Teresa, pray for us.” Instead, I’ll be happy to say, “St. Mother Teresa,
pray for us.” Woohoo.
I had
several chances to meet Mother Teresa in Washington, D.C., while I volunteered
at one of her hospice homes for AIDS patients.
When I saw her I was surprised how short she was, but also how strong
she was. I met her in the hallway, but as soon as I said “Hi” to her, she heard
a man nearby fall from his wheelchair and she ran over immediately and picked
him up. She had a surprising physical power, and a not-so surprising spiritual
power. She was impressive in every respect as was witnessed by those who
attended her canonization Mass. Fox News reported: “Hundreds of Missionaries of
Charity sisters in their trademark blue-trimmed white saris had front-row seats
at the Mass, alongside 1,500 homeless people, and 13 heads of state or
government, and even royalty, Queen Sofia of Spain.” And I’m sure if Princess
Diana were alive, she would certainly have come: they were very close.
But as impressive as St. Mother Teresa is, she
can also be a little intimidating. What do I mean? Well, we may see all her
huge holiness and think, “Man, I could never do that! I could never be a
saint.” Sometimes we conclude at a canonization Mass that only super-holy
priests and nuns, monks and mystics can become saints, not you and me, poor Joe
six-pack in the pews. But if you think that, you would be very mistaken. Even
St. Mother Teresa often said: “We can do no great things, only small things
with great love,” like rushing to pick up a man who fell from his wheelchair.
Everyone can do small things with great love, and that’s the best definition of
a saint.
A couple of
years ago, I gave to our church office staff a book for Christmas called, Ordinary
Work, Extraordinary Grace by Scott Hahn. The thesis of the book is simply that
sainthood is for everyone not for a few. And the secret to becoming a saint is
to do your daily duties with love and as your sacrifice to God. Just as a
priest offers bread and wine on the altar at Mass, so you should see your daily
duties as a sort of priestly service. Scott Hahn wrote: “Our altar is our
desktop, our workstation, the row we hoe, the ditch we dig, the diaper we
change, the pot we stir, the bed we share with our spouse” (p. 8). You and I
have to do all these things every day, and if we inject the ingredient of great
love, they suddenly serve as the secret and short-cut to sanctity.
On this
Labor Day, we give God thanks for the gift of honest work, “at home with the
kids, in a factory or an office, in the mines, on the farm, or on the
battlefield” (Ordinary Work, p. 5). Honest work is something we all have to do,
because sainthood is something we are all called to achieve.
Praised be
Jesus Christ!
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