The saint of the ordinary

WE have just celebrated the 5th anniversary of the canonization of Opus Dei founder, St. Josemaria Escriva (1902-1975).

October 6, 2002 saw St. Peter’s Square overflowing with people who came
from all over the world to witness the late Pope John Paul II raise St. Josemaria to the altars. They were all happy to take part in that historical event.

The aging Pope, thoroughly acquainted with the life and works of the saint,
described him as the “saint of the ordinary.”

This obviously was in reference to St. Josemaria’s constant preaching that
all ordinary activities in one’s life, be it at home or in work, can be a way to heaven if done with love for God and for souls.

In other words, if one stays focused on God and does everything to keep that focus, in season or out of season, in the mood or out of it, he is likely to have the proper focus on everything and on everybody else as well.

In the mind of St. Josemaria, love for God does not take one away from the
world, but rather deepens his concern for the world and for all men.

An iconic statement of the saint was one he preached in a homily in 1967:
“There is something holy, something divine hidden in the most ordinary situations, and it is up to each one of you to discover it.”

Such words hit the nail on the head in moving people from all over to try
to be consistent to their faith not only during extraordinary events, but most especially in the ordinary flow of their daily life.

With such preaching, certainly divinely inspired, St. Josemaria captured
the deepest longing of people’s hearts. In spite of our limitations and mistakes, we cannot deny the primal truth of such assertion.

It also answered the Church call for all to blend our faith with our life itself, bridging the all-too-familiar gap between the two. It was a very ambitious preaching, prone to be interpreted as exaggerated and gratuitous.

St. Josemaria’s words were not just theoretical, theological or abstract. They were all lived words, derived from actual experience, strong, vital and forceful, capable of stirring people to action.

They were a result of his constant efforts to fulfill the will of God no matter what it took. Not his failing health, nor the tremendous difficulties material, spiritual, juridical, etc., let alone the nasty campaigns to bash him, Opus Dei and the Church stopped him from generously giving himself to God’s designs.

He was accused of being a heretic, a fanatic, of trying to control Spanish
if not world politics and business, and even the Vatican itself. Now, all these look very funny. But at that time, it was real, red-hot drama.

He faced all these with serenity, defending himself with prayers and mortifications, and simply working away quietly. He was a dynamo of endless working.

He hardly spoke. He understood why he was misunderstood. Quick to forgive, he was magnanimous to those who wronged him. In the end, he proved to
all he was only doing God’s will, not his. He personified how good would sooner or later overcome evil.

With such character, it was not difficult for him to inspire others to be generous also with our Lord and with everybody else. His presence, his example, his teaching exuded such splendor of charity as to draw others to be generous as well.

He provoked conversions even among those who usually are considered as
hard cases. He motivated others to make all sorts of initiatives meant to help people materially and spiritually.

But he always insisted on sanctifying the ordinary things of life. He cautioned others of the lure for the extraordinary that could dilute their self-giving with subtle traces of self-love. Though imbued with an immense sense of peace and confidence, he stayed away from any show of triumphalism.

His main weapon, which he recommended to everyone, was prayer. It was
through prayer that he managed to be both in heaven and on earth. He told all to convert everything to prayer.