Extraordinary Ordinary

Sometimes, what you think should feel sacred, feels incredibly ordinary.

You say a prayer, and the echo doesn’t reach your heart. You hear a song that used to move you and now feels hollow. You question the moments of a church service instead of experiencing them like you used to. The Words that once spoke to you clearly are now quiet.

Sometimes, the things you think are ordinary end up being sacred.

A sunrise, a conversation, good food, a quiet morning, something fun, a book, music, art, laughter, meeting an interesting person – all ordinary things I have experienced God through, moments where the sun breaks through and I see in a way I didn’t just a moment before.

And then there are some things that exist as bridges connecting the ordinary and the extraordinary.

It struck me recently that communion is one of those things - the broken bread, the poured cup, the passed trays, the spoken words, the quiet prayers. It is part of so many Christian traditions, familiar to me just like many other faith practices – but this time was different.

This time my eyes filled with tears of amazement, realizing that Jesus chose something so incredibly mundane, so undeniably human, something each of us needs just to survive as the sacred, and yet simple sign of our remembrance of him. Of all the things that could have chosen to symbolize his sacrifice, our relationship, the family of God, how we live in the world, he chose bread and wine.

I used to think that the traditional religious practice during our service was the true sign of this Communion – the tiny plastic cups and metal trays with wafers piled in the middle, or the bread and wine given by a priest standing before the altar serving a line of worshippers. But when Jesus gave this comparison, he was simply sharing a meal with his friends. He was telling them that as often as we eat, as often as we sit in community and share food and drink and conversation, as often as we take in the sustenance we need, we are doing it in remembrance of him.

I am amazed that Jesus chose something so carnal and ordinary, something that sustains us at a physical level, to remind us of his presence and relationship with us. Bread and wine. Very ordinary and very extraordinary. Elements that give us strength and energy and enjoyment. Elements that show God is with us in it all. and that both exist side by side and woven together.

The story of God is the story of the ordinary and extraordinary intermingling. Jesus came as both God and man, sacred and human. His Kingdom is one of God and humanity working together. His last meal shows the presence of God in the ordinary rhythms of human life, how our normal human routines and habits are actually woven with the sacred.

I might try to divide the two – the sacred and the mundane - but God certainly doesn’t.

And so of course sometimes the supposedly sacred to start to feel ordinary. Because the ordinary is sacred too. And of course, it only stands to reason that the ordinary should often feel sacred. Maybe there isn’t a line between the two at all? After all, the same God designed it all. Which means it is really all ordinary and yet extraordinary at once.

When I eat the bread and drink the wine, whether at the Lord’s table or my kitchen table, I am reminded of and grateful that it is all mixed together. And I am reminded that no matter how I feel about any of it, it is Jesus who is sustaining me in it all.