10/365 Ordinariness

Ordinary Time is so named because it is counted, like ordinal numbers (first, second, third, and so on). You have Sundays of Advent, you have Sundays of Lent and of Easter, but you have Sundays IN Ordinary Time. In fact, there is no First Sunday in Ordinary Time because by the time you get to the first Sunday, it's the second week. So it's the Sunday of the second week, and therefore, the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time.

This is the sort of thing that I love about Catholicism and probably would like about other ancient denominations and religions (Orthodox Christianity, Judaism). It's like a flaky crust--the many many layers of butter and sugar and flour symbolic of the humanity layered on top of itself over thousands of years. At some point, this counting was so important to someone. It probably is still important to someone. For the average churchgoer, maybe not. It took me a long time to notice seasonal changes at church beyond "C&E". But for the most part, I look at words like of vs. in or first vs. second and I just smile. It's kind of cozy.

Today we undecorated. The evergreen trees weren't too evergreen anymore, and while the poinsettias lasted remarkably well, the wreaths were crispy. Christmas was over for another year.

More than the end of Easter, which of course falls at the beginning of the school summer break, this end always brought a bit of sadness for me. The specialness of Christmas is replaced with...January. With ice and salt and the inevitable winter headcold. It indeed does feel ordinary, and not meaning counted. Like bringing your lunch in an ordinary brown paper bag. Wearing plain old ordinary school uniforms. I remember the first year I was in charge of this, sitting in a front pew and staring and the blankness behind the altar and feeling oddly empty.

This year wasn't as bad. Maybe it's because I'm taking megadoses of vitamin D. But maybe more than that, it's because this chunk of ordinary time, mardi gras season really, is full of good things in a way that the brown paper lunchbag is not. Next Sunday is the wedding at Cana. Following that, the many parts of the Body of Christ. The month ends with Paul's treatise on love (Cor 13:4-13), which many consider appropriate for weddings but I desperately want read at my funeral. Early February has fishers of men, "Here I am, Lord" from Isaiah, and the Beatitudes. It's a lot to think on while in my ordinary life, I am busy too with Irish Dance competitions and girl scout cookie sales and meetings, meetings, meetings.

Catechesis of the Good Shepherd (Atrium) divides the year first by color and then gives it simpler names: the purple is the preparation for the feast, the white is the feast (or red for the Holy Spirit), and green is the growing time. Later they fill in the real names and count the weeks and all that but I like the idea of green not having the connotation of ordinary but instead of growth. Grow, grow, grow.