Heroism in the ordinary

Last October 6 was the fourth anniversary of the canonization of a holy priest who made a quiet but effective revolution in the world of spirituality. His name: St. Josemaria Escriva, founder of Opus Dei.

The first time I read his books many years ago, what immediately struck me was the forcefulness and practical sense his words possessed. While always educated and refined, they transmitted a lot of common sense, of affection and of being street-smart.

He seemed able to open people's consciences, to read and understand them with what later on I learned to be Christian compassion and charity. He did not present theories. He just talked in a language the heart could easily assimilate.

Right now, theologians are studying his thoughts and arguments, and are drawing precious lessons, indicating the richness of his spiritual and pastoral legacy.

As far as I was concerned, it did not take long for me to realize that he was talking about a sanctity that was not lost in sophisticated theories and elaborate practices.

There was the quality of immediacy, of the here and now, about the kind of holiness he was preaching about. I understood that holiness cannot and should not be some remote ideal to pursue. It has to be lived now, no matter how imperfectly.

I understood from him that the drama of sanctification takes place in one's heart, and is played out mainly in the small, ordinary things of our life, and seldom, if ever, in the public stages of extraordinary events.

It's the drama of to whom you give your heart-to God or to oneself. And this choice is always at the center of our life, our thoughts, words and actions. It's the choice that we always have to make and that ultimately defines us.

The drama can have its difficult moments, but St. Josemaria practically screamed his reassurance that God is our Father who loves us even to the point of sending the Son to us, and the Son finally offering his life for us.

When I started the practice of reading the gospels, I then met divine words that explain these convictions St. Josemaria was so full of. "Where sin abounded, grace abounded even more," St. Paul said (Rom 5,20). And in another letter, "For this is God's will, your sanctification." (1 Thes 4,3)

For most of us, our sanctity is in the heroism of our self-giving to God and to others in the ordinary circumstances of our life. It's in the effort to try to understand an annoying companion, or in putting the finishing touches to one's household chores. It's in the smile we try to evoke in spite of contrary feelings, or in the hidden and persevering effort to study and work. It can be in the faithful and generous living out of one's commitments, both big and small, public and private. It can also be in maintaining both human and Christian integrity in one's business and politics, even if the environment is filled with structures of sin. The expressions of sanctity can be endless because the love that propels it never says enough. They remain constant whatever the circumstances, converting ordinary circumstances into paths to love God and others.

There is nothing mushy nor showy in his idea of sanctification, but it can generate tons of tender feelings, of exuberance, and of apostolic zeal. It finds thrill in the routine of every day, joy and peace in every moment.

And the more I got to know about St. Josemaria, the more I got convinced of the consistency between his words and his deeds. And yes, he can easily throw a spell on you, the kind that leads you to conversion and self-giving.

When I read St. Paul's "We speak not in the learned words of human wisdom, but in the doctrine of the Spirit, comparing spiritual things with spiritual." (1 Cor 2,12), I think of how St. Josemaria entered my life and affected it.

The greatest lesson I learned from him is that loving and achieving sanctity is just a matter of decision of the heart that can and should be made at any time and in any place. On the part of God, his grace never lacks. It's our call.

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