The extraordinary in the ordinariness of life

By Fr Robert Christo

Vicar for Communications

Someone approached me after the Corpus Christi procession: “When is the next feast, Father? I cyah wait…” I responded: “Boi, we in Ordinary Time now!” He bowed his head in disgust and manoeuvered  his way out of the procession: “Ordinary Time is not meh time.”

This prompted me to dig deep into the tradition and teachings of the early Church Fathers.

From ashes on foreheads on Ash Wednesday to incense in the streets on Corpus Christi; from pilgrimages to sacred sites and outdoor Masses, to Confirmation get-togethers and Corpus Christi plantings—we’ve been on a real liturgical high. A spiritual rollercoaster. It was like an all-inclusive for Christ—minus the bacchanal! Ministries mobilised, sacraments and grace flowed like water.

But now, after all the ‘holy hecticness’, we shift into what the Church calls Ordinary Time—roughly 24 weeks until Advent. Don’t let the name fool you. Ordinary Time is not “meh” time. It’s not a spiritual siesta until Christmas. It is the very heartbeat of the Christian life.

Yuh ever eat pelau without coleslaw? That’s how some people treat Ordinary Time—bland! But with faith, even the simplest moment could hit like scorpion pepper with a hint of chadon beni.

The bishops remind us: this is a time for growth and maturation. And just like cassava takes time to root and ripen, so too our faith deepens in the hiddenness. The green vestments worn at liturgy symbolise this season of life and growth. Ordinary Time reminds us that God works best when we think nothing is happening.

Bishop Robert Barron says the mystery of Christ isn’t just in the big feasts—it’s in the whispers of daily life: the nudge of grace in Charlotte Street traffic. That stirring of the heart while stirring a pot of oil down.

God is in the ordinary. He isn’t  a faraway landlord peeping over some cloud railing, waiting to ‘diss’ us for a mistake. No—He is Emmanuel. Right here in the maxi taxi, the market, the kitchen, the classroom. The Holy Spirit didn’t descend at Pentecost to vanish like WiFi during a thunderstorm. He stays.

Like a pot hissing on slow simmer, God’s presence bubbles in our ordinary days—flavouring our lives with quiet transformation.

And let’s not forget the image in Revelation of the Holy City coming down like a bride. That’s not just future talk—it’s happening now. God is pitching tent in our neighbourhoods, our hearts, and our parishes. He’s building a Church not of bricks—but of hearts on fire.

So as we stroll through these next 24 weeks of Ordinary Time, let’s remember: This is not downtime. This is God-time. With hearts still warm from the Resurrection fire, we go forward as Pilgrims of Hope, planting seeds like Corpus Christi farmers—trusting they’ll bloom.

And if yuh feel nothing happening? Check again. Sometimes, God working undercover—like granny soaking  fruits in rum for the Christmas black cake.

Stay tuned. Stay rooted. Stay spicy in faith. Because even in the ordinary, God is cooking up something extraordinary.