PHOTO: Mary van Balen In today’s gospel reading, it was the little things the woman noticed when Jesus entered Simon’s house: No one brought water to wash Jesus’ dusty feet; no one greeted him with a kiss; no one wiped his face and refreshed it with oil. Changed by his words of God’s loving forgiveness, she had come to seek him out. Perhaps to give thanks for lifting a burden from her heart and replacing it with hope.
The lack of honor shown to this man moved her to tears, and she washed his feet with them, drying with her hair. She broke her alabaster jar of perfume and anointed his feet, covering them with kisses as she did.
Simon was shocked and offended. Jesus felt the warmth of her love and said so: She had been forgiven much and she loved much. He had no such words for his host, who, if he were open to the moment, was abashed.
A lifetime of paying attention to the “little things” make a saint. Liturgical Press’ September “Give Us This Day” book of prayer, a short reflection on the life of Daria Donnelly is offered as an example of one made holy by living ordinary life fully and with love. She was an editor of “Commonweal” magazine, a wife and mother. She died at forty-five of multiple myeloma. Her witness? In her words: “The only thing that matters is showing love and compassion in the time that is given us.”
Most of us live ordinary lives, work day in and day out at jobs that may or may not be fulfilling in themselves. We are parents and children; aunts and uncles; neighbors and strangers. But each day, each moment is an acceptable time for the inbreaking of grace and love. Present to the moment, we are surprised by beauty and kindness.
This morning, I woke with a “to do” list stamped in my brain. I washed dishes and, suspecting a nail in its tire, took my car to a local mechanic to check. He asked for an hour. I walked down the street to a small restaurant and treated myself to breakfast and time to write a bit in my journal. On the walk back, I noticed a leaf on the sidewalk. Or more accurately, the leaf called to me, bright with large dew drops throwing the morning sun out for passersby to see.
Stooping down for a closer look, I pondered the fall season, the large size of the drops, and the brilliance of the sun. Grace, inbreaking.
“Yep, it was a nail. Keys are in the car.”
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” He smiled. Grace again.
A sweet sense of peace replaced nagging concern with my mental chores list. While I spend the rest of my day selling home-goods to bargain seekers, I will pass the peace along. Department store or office; strangers or friends; commerce or solitary work. All are acceptable times and places for God’s Grace to show up and continue the work of transformation.
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