Ordinary is a confusing word. It conjures up images of mind-numbing routine: housework, billable time, supermarket lines and summer television. No one wants to be ordinary. To want to be ordinary is like wishing you were middle of the pack. No one dreams of being average.
And yet the word is derived from the Latin ordo, meaning "ordered" or suggesting sequence. Words like ordinal, or numbered, come from this root word. Ordinary time in the Church calendar doesn't mean boring time (although the stretch from Pentecost to Advent can seem like it, depending on the quality of preaching you are privileged to hear, or not). It means "numbered" time, sequenced to correspond to the life of Christ.
Since I like knowing the origin of words, and lacking anything extraordinary to do at this late hour, I researched this further. I found that ordo was used in medieval times to mean "a system of parts subject to certain uniform, established ranks or proportions, and was used for everything from architecture to angels." Cool.
I like order (my spices are alphabetized) and I like movement (idle time is not enjoyable to me), so these definitions together pleased me. If the word ordinary connotes sequence or movement, then I guess I should want to be ordinary. I want to be moving somewhere and not remaining stagnant. And I want to be a part within the system. I want to be a part of the human world, but yet somehow distinguishable from the other people. I want to be numbered--I want to count for something, and I want my individuality to be counted. Fortunately, God does just this for us. He allows us to be a part of a whole, while all the time knowing every tiny thing about us, even the number of hairs on our head. He also gives us the ability to move towards him (and he gives us the choice to move away, too).
My point? I'm not sure I have one (it is 1:00 am). I guess my point is that we should rethink the stigma of being ordinary. When we despair that we are living simply "ordinary" lives, we need to focus on what that word should really mean and not the reality of enduring yet another price check in the longest supermarket line ever.
Keep moving. Be counted. (Sounds like a Census ad).
Better yet: Keep moving towards God. Rest in the truth that you are counted.
Better yet: Keep moving towards God. Rest in the truth that you are counted.
The first thought that came into my head when I began reading your post was to argue that "no one wants to be ordinary." I think it all depends on the life you have lived.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, having been caught in the storms of life, I often wish for a nice gentle ride with no waves. Dullness doesn't seem all that bad now.