Ordinary Vocation
Have you ever wondered what you’re supposed to do each day?
This question can occupy more space in our heads when retired, or in periods of unemployment, or during the times when you are in between things, or perhaps when you have relocated and still finding your way.
People have always wanted their lives to be meaningful and to matter. It’s a natural desire. However, I’m wondering whether the current waters in which we swim, (no pun intended), have heightened that natural inclination to unhealthy levels. This is particularly true for Generation Z, a group I have worked with until recently. They have grown up slammed with the needs of the world and meta-narratives of "living your best life." Those well past the Gen Z stage are not, of course, immune to those same messages. Our 24/7 Instagram and Tik Tok world would have us believe that "reaching for the stars," going for your dreams," and having careers that you are "passionate about" are the norms. The ordinary life, we are told in a thousand ways, is not good enough. Yet, at least from what I have observed, true and lasting transformation comes not only in exceptional times but often, through our commonplace experiences.
The "Spirit of the Age" I just described is not helped by some common notions of the word "vocation." It is a word that carries immense weight, bearing future hopes and promising lives of glorious fulfillment in the pursuit of something great. However, if we take the etymology of the word seriously, we come to an expansive understanding that, at its most simple level, is about responding to a sense of call. When we comprehend this, we are free to break away from narrow definitions that inhibit its reach and embrace those that include the commonplace. In this broader view, vocation becomes about my daily encounters with others and my micro-decisions. It is the way I tend my garden or how I treat my co-workers. It is joining in with the giggles of my grandchildren or breathing in the fresh air on slow winter walks, being reminded that all of creation is a gift. Vocation becomes not some one-time event that declares the single grand plan of God for me. Instead, it is a series of imperceptible nudges to live wholeheartedly in the mundane.
One of my favorite fictional series is the four Gilead Novels by Marilynne Robinson. Robinson charts the interweaving stories of two families. Set against the backdrop of small-town America, she brings us into a world that is rich with the very stuff of life. Page after page, Robinson describes people going about their business. They work, and they go to church (or not). They laugh and cry. Neighbors gather, and families are estranged. There is sadness, joy, loss, regret, and disappointment. Robinson's very style of prose makes us read slowly, holding up a mirror to our own lives. In doing so, she invites us to acknowledge that the ordinary cadence of the unremarkable honors our humanness, our daily realities.
How may I live into the truth of the ordinary vocation?
One answer lies in adopting a posture of receptivity. In this way, I am open to the treasures each day brings, treasures that shape me, forming me little by little into the kind of person who sees God’s grace everywhere. It is long, steady work; a call-and-response way of living that requires me to listen. This cultivation, a commitment to be grounded fully in the present and surrender my grasp on the future is hard work. I need constant reminders.
Perhaps the last word can go to Joan Chittister, the Benedictine nun who has blessed so many with her wisdom. She captures the ordinary vocation eloquently. "It is the way we live each of the circumstances of life, the hum-drum as well as the extraordinary, the daily as well as the defining moments, that determines the quality of our lives." [1]
Her words encourage me to acknowledge that the ordinary vocation is beautiful. Now, having stepped into semi-retirement, I just have to live it out!
1: Joan Chittister. Illuminated Life : Monastic Wisdom for Seekers of Light. Orbis Books, 2000.
Adapted post from something I wrote back in February 2023, when I was working full time.)