Teach Us to Pray: Grace in ordinary time 

A picture of an oval made out of a rainbow of hands in both skin tones and bright colours. In the middle text reads 'All our hands will touch. Bless for us this day... Holy Trinity. Draw us into one.'

This summer I’m looking forward to returning to the Anglican Convent in Toronto. It will be the first time in four years the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine will offer their three- week discernment program, described on their web page as a “residential program for women at a crossroads in career, study, or lifestyle”. Being part of the leadership team provides me with an opportunity to support the Sisters in their ministry to those seeking spiritual guidance, but truth be told, it will also be a time for me to “recalibrate” – to step back into a more balanced rhythm of life, sorely disrupted during the recent pandemic.

By the time I arrive we’ll be more than a month into the Season after Pentecost – the longest of church seasons, sometimes called “Ordinary Time”. It’s the time of year when we hear the stories of people, many like us, trying to live their faith with authenticity. They’re stories we’ve heard before – some of us, many times, and after a while, they may seem sort of “ordinary” to us. However. the name for this season can be deceiving, for rather than meaning “common” or “mundane,” this term comes from the word “ordinal” meaning “counted time”. Counted time after Pentecost begins with the first Sunday after Pentecost (also known as Trinity Sunday), and ends with the Reign of Christ Sunday, a.k.a. “The Sunday Next Before Advent”. 

The liturgical colour for Ordinary Time is green, traditionally associated with new life and growth. In the Hebrew Scriptures, the word for the colour “green” also means “young.”  Within the Christian tradition, green came to symbolize the life of the church following Pentecost, as well as symbolizing the hope of new life in the resurrection.

Many of us are familiar with the Church calendar – with the seasons of Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Easter and Pentecost. The term “Ordinary Time” may be unaccustomed but I’ve noticed that using less-familiar words can prompt us to ask new questions, search more deeply, gain insight and perspective.

One of my favourite “recalibrations” while at the Convent is the practice of eating in silence. As we assemble in the refectory and stand by our chair. the Guest Sister leads us in a responsive prayer, conveniently printed on a card, posted at the center of each table. These prayers are seasonal and so the heading on the card while I am there this summer will read “Grace in Ordinary Time”. I love this phrase for it reminds me that this long season is indeed a grace, a blessing. Hearing familiar stories again affords us an immersive look at the extraordinariness of this faith we claim as ours. In the ordinariness of this time lies extraordinary possibilities. 

In these long weeks of “Ordinary Time”, we’ll accompany Jesus as he goes about among the people. We’ll watch the disciples learn in word and action the meaning of their mission. The great prophets reveal a God who makes us accountable to the covenant, but who also lovingly chastens and forgives us. We’ll witness the continued transformation of those early Christian communities as they endeavour to live more fully into their discipleship and mission to become the living church. The Psalmist will give voice to our changeable moods.

It is through these eye-witness accounts that we learn more of our own deepening commitment to live the faith more fully. It is in hearing these ancestral memories that we learn to give an account for the faith that is in us — not only in times of personal calamity, but also when we desire to provide compassion and justice for others. 

When we reflect on these stories, we begin to see ourselves in them. This is how we practice Resurrection, being present to the Good News unfolding around us. And whenever we do that, we become courageous enough to share these stories with others.

The Chilean poet and political activist Pablo Neruda wrote:

I stood by truth:
to bring light to the land.
I tried to be common like bread;
so when the struggle came,
She would not find me missing.

May we become common like bread, living our faith with committed passion and tenacious hope each day and every hour, proclaiming grace in ordinary times. May we be Christ’s body, fully present in the struggle to feed a world hungry for love, for compassion, for justice and mercy and peace – and for grace. 

Rev. Frances Drolet-Smith
Diocesan Representative, the Anglican Fellowship of Prayer
Photo: Banner in SSJD Refectory, F. Drolet-Smith

Author

  • Frances Drolet-Smith

    Rev. Frances Drolet-Smith is the Diocesan Representative for the Anglican Fellowship of Prayer.

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