Little Duties

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“Naaman, army commander to the king of Aram, was a man who enjoyed his master's respect and favor, since through him Yahweh had granted victory to the Arameans” (2 Kings 5:1-15).

Every year the Church places before us the story of Naaman the Syrian in the Book of Kings. A small little story, but yet full of significance.

We are told that the man suffered from a virulent skin disease. “On one of their raids into Israelite territory, the Arameans had carried off a little girl who became a servant of Naaman's wife.”

So in the story, this little girl will become the main protagonist, the main actor. She is going to come out with a little suggestion that is going to change many things.

“She said to her mistress, ‘If only my master would approach the Prophet of Samaria, he would cure him of his skin disease.’”

We can imagine that if he had this virulent skin disease, the one thing he would have been really interested in and looking for was some sort of a cure. This little girl comes up with this suggestion.

“So Naaman went in and told his master, ‘This and this,’ he reported, ‘is what the girl from Israel has said.’”

“‘Go, by all means,’ said the king of Aram. ‘I shall send a letter to the king of Israel.’ Naaman left, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten fester robes.”

Naaman gets permission from his boss, the king of Aram. Not only does he get permission, but the king is willing to send the highest-level communication to the king of Israel, and he takes with him this great amount of treasure to be able to pay for this great favor that he’s going to receive.

“He presented the letter to the king of Israel and read, ‘With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you for you to cure him of his skin disease.’”

But then the letter produces the opposite reaction to what it was supposed to. “When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, ‘Am I God to give death and life,’ he said, ‘for him to send a man to me and ask me to cure him of his skin disease? Listen to this and take note of it and see how he intends to pick a quarrel with me.’”

The king didn't understand the letter. It was contradiction, misunderstanding, miscommunication.

But then there is a prophet there called Elisha. “When Elisha heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent word to the king: ‘Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me and he will find there is a prophet in Israel.’”

Now here is the solution: “Naaman came with his team and chariots and drew up at the door of Elisha's house.”

A dramatic moment in the whole story. He finally found the person who was able to cure him of his disease. He got through the difficulties and the miscommunications. He is waiting for this great event that is going to take place.

“Elisha sent him a messenger to say, ‘Go and bathe seven times in the Jordan and your flesh will become clean once more.’”

Big anticlimax. Elisha didn't even come out to him. He didn't even look at him, let alone bless him, or anything else. He just sends him a messenger.

So it's a rather backhand way of giving him a message. It doesn't give him much importance. It seems to suggest that nothing is going to happen.

With the way that he was treated then, Naaman was not happy.

“Naaman was indignant and left off, saying, ‘Here was I, thinking that he would be sure to come out to me and stand there and call on the name of Yahweh his God, and wave his hand over the spot and cure the part that was diseased.’”

Naaman was expecting something grandiose, something great, something very dramatic. Sort of pure magical spell and everything that might go with it.

He's been very disappointed. ‘He doesn't even come out to me. He just sends a messenger, maybe a little note or something.’

“‘Surely Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, are better than any water in Israel? Could I not bathe in them and become clean?’ And he turned around and went off in a rage.”

So not only was he disappointed, he was mad. He'd come all this journey, he'd brought all this treasure with him, expecting something very wonderful and ‘he just told me to go and bathe several times in the river.’

He begins to analyze the request that's made of him. ‘I could have done this where they came from. We have greater rivers there.’

He looks at the command from a human perspective, human point of view, and of course, he comes up with the wrong answer. He's not willing to do what he was asked to do.

The message in this passage is about the little duties of each moment, the little things that we're asked to do. Not the big things.

Sometimes we pay attention to big things. Or we think that ‘I'm called to do big things, great things.’

Maybe God is asking of us of just the little things.

See how the contrast in this passage of the great Naaman—very important, looked upon by his king, and very successful. And you have the little girl. The little girl holds the key. She has the solution to the big problem, the skin disease.

The big guy is paying attention to all the big things, and she's paying attention to the little things.

We have to ask Our Lord that every day of our life we might pay attention to those small things. There are milligrams of gold in the little duties of each day.

“There is something divine hidden in the most ordinary human reality” (Josemaría Escrivá, Conversations, Point 114). God wants us to gather those little milligrams of gold to build grams and kilograms.

I heard somebody say once that “architecture begins when you put one brick on top of another” (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, NY Herald Tribune Interview, 1959).

Each brick is important. When we look at the bricks in the wall, we see how important each brick is. If one of them wasn't there, the whole wall might fall.

The bricks at the bottom of the wall are perhaps even more important because they support all the others. So, architecture begins when you place one brick on top of another.

Every little action that we do, every little duty that we carry out, our to-do list, our job description, what is my area of responsibility, what are the specific things I'm supposed to do, turn on this switch, turn off that switch, take care of this corridor, do this other thing, lay this table, press this button—all these jobs that are there in front of us every day—that's what God is wishing for, from us.

We can all be Naaman: indignant. ‘Why haven't I been given great important tasks?’

Maybe the solution is in the small things. The gold is there. We just have to see it and try and realize the importance of those things.

Little duties of our spirit, little duties of our work, little duties of our apostolate—these make up our very substance. This is the way forward. We do great things by taking care of the small things.

But we're told, “His servants approached him and said, ‘Father, if the prophet had asked you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?’”

Then now we have the contrast again, Naaman in his rage with all the big things, gets the whole message wrong, and it takes a servant, some less important person, a small person, to come along with the answer, the wisdom, the prudence, the key.

This time he addresses him, “Father.” It's more personal, more intimate, speaking to the heart.

Sometimes you might think, ‘I've been cut out for the difficult things. I want to be given difficult tasks.’ But the gold is in the ordinary little things.

We might think that to achieve sanctity or to do my apostolate, we have to climb Kilimanjaro or Mount Kenya and do something dramatic or big.

But the little things within reach every day—those are the things that God is asking of us.

All the more reason, when he says to you, “Obey”, then you will become clean. All the more reason. He hasn't asked you to do something very big, or very difficult, or that takes a lot of time. He's just asked you to do a simple thing.

You have to look and see: What are the simple things that I'm being asked to do every day? Try and do them with more love and more care, more presence of God, more perfection.

When St. Josemaría was passing people who were doing a painting job, in a room someplace, he would say, “Cada pincelada es un acto de amor.” Each stroke of the brush, an act of love.

If we take care of the small things, the big things will take care of themselves. We take care of the minutes, the hours will take care of themselves.

A good thing to talk about in our chat or spiritual direction is our use of time. How am I using my time to take care of little things, to gather those little milligrams of gold, to do this little job, that other little thing?

“So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan.” Finally, he has the humility to listen to what is being told.

He's being told this by a much less important person than himself. But he sees the wisdom of it, and the prudence, and the value, and the common sense.

It must have taken a bit of humility to calm down from his rage and to see this thing in a different light. He was looking, you could say, for all the external things, that he might come out and be very dramatic, and ‘cure me in a really dramatic way.’

But this little person points out, ‘Look, it's just a simple thing you have to do.’

“So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan as Elisha had told him to do, and the flesh became clean once more like the flesh of a little child.”

We don't convert society by doing all sorts of big things. We convert society by taking care of the little things of every day—fulfilling our norms, doing what we're asked to do, and growing in our professional work.

Then the great things happen.

“Returning to Elisha with his whole escort, he went in, and presenting himself he said, ‘Now I know that there is no God anywhere on earth except in Israel. Now please accept a present from your servant.’”

He was very grateful. “But Elisha replied, ‘As Yahweh lives whom I serve, I will accept nothing.’ Naaman pressed him to accept, but he refused.”

“Then Naaman said, ‘Since your answer is no, allow your servant to be given as much earth as two mules may carry, as your servant may no longer make burnt offerings or sacrifice to any God except Yahweh’” (2 Kings 5:15-17).

He was extremely grateful for this small thing. Very often great messages are in small things.

We're going to find, on Holy Thursday, Our Lord is going to get up from dinner and wash the feet of the apostles (John 13:4-5). Small little gesture, but yet one that contains a great message.

Sometimes advertisers say that “the medium is the message” (Marshal Mcluhan, Understanding the Media). The message is in the medium.

The message of toothpaste is in the glossy white tube that contains it. You get an undercover message or a subliminal message that this is how white and glossy your teeth are going to look if you brush your teeth with this particular toothpaste. The message is in the medium that we use to get it across.

The message in the conference center is not necessarily in all the wonderful talks meditations or classes that may take place there. It may be on the floral arrangement on the hall table, the physical material things that people can see.

The message of this house may not be so much in the classes or the talks or the other means of formation, but it might be more on the shine of the tiles on the stairway. It’s what people see.

We walk the talk. This is what it's all about. The message is in the medium. The material things speak to us. It shows us that this message is authentic. This is what it's all about.

Small things become very important. The little fulfillment of our duty may be the message that some soul is waiting for, that ‘I've taken care of this small thing.’

“The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field which a man has found and covered up, and, in his joy, he goes and sells all and buys that field. The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, and finding one pearl of great price, he went and sold all that he had and bought it” (Matt. 13:44-46).

Every day God places before us little pearls—pearls that he wants us to gather during the course of our day—little things that are expressions of our spirit that other people see.

They see the authenticity of what we're talking about. Our spirit doesn't involve looking for unusual things, but in those little duties of each day that are very much within our reach.

Humility according to our spirit is to take care of those little duties.

You could say that Naaman learned that lesson a little bit. ‘All I have to do is just take care of this little thing that I've been asked to do: to go and bathe seven times in the Jordan.’ It didn't require a huge effort.

The extraordinary thing is that we seek the ordinary and carry it out with perfection, with love of God.

And the care that we take of those little duties is the measure of our love. It's where we put love into practice.

We don't know how God is going to use that little thing to light fires in people's hearts.

There was a lady once who came to a get-together with Don Javier in Singapore.

On the chair in the place where we had the get-together, there was a newsletter. While waiting for the get-together to start, she began to flick through the newsletter.

She came across a picture of St. Josemaría. She had read The Way and some of his other books, and she told me, “You know, I don't like your Father. I don't like your Father. Too harsh, too difficult. In The Way, chapters on Penance, Mortification—this is not me, this is not my cup of tea.”

Then she was flicking through this newsletter, and she came across a picture of St. Josemaría. She had never seen a photograph of his before, and she was very struck by the warm, beautiful smile on St. Josemaría's face.

She thought, ‘What a wonderful, warm smile. For somebody to have such a warm smile like that, they must have a very warm heart.’

Then she thought, “Maybe I was wrong about your Father, your Founder. Maybe I should go back and have another look.”

She went back to The Way and she found other chapters on Spiritual Childhood, Life of Childhood, Cheerfulness.

She said, “Oh, I got a completely different opinion of your Founder.” Now she fell in love with St. Josemaría through that photograph, through that smile.

We don't know how God is going to use all sorts of little things to change hearts, to transmit our message.

Our Lord told the servants in Cana of Galilee to “fill the jars with water.” They filled the jars to the brim (John 2:7). He didn’t say, “half-brim” but they filled the jars “to the brim.”

Often Our Lord wants to do things “to the brim.” Fill every day, fill this little duty to the brim, as much as you can.

That can involve having a lot of generosity to finish things down to the last detail. Often that means to double check.

Sometimes we can do our work or fulfill our duty and then, ‘I've done it’ and we walk off. It’s a very good thing to double-check. Often the perfection is in double checking.

When you lay a table before you leave the room, just look back at the table. You might find, ‘Oh, I forgot something there.” All the little things—that double checking is very important.

Often the sanctity is there, the virtue, the love, the care. That way, we “place the last stones” (Zech. 4:7), we take pride in our work.

This business of the little duty of each moment can involve very simple things: putting things back in their place, or returning a book, or returning something we've borrowed.

All this is very good example, and good example attracts.

Our Lord wants all of us to give good example. In fulfilling those details of our spirit, that's where God's grace will help us to a maximum degree. That's why He's called us to live this particular spirit in this particular way.

Sometimes St. Josemaría would ask people when he met them in Cordoba, Que piensas? What are you thinking about? Where is your mind? Where is your heart?

Our mind might be far away. We might be dreaming of winning a Hollywood Oscar or something. God wants our minds to be on the things we have in front of us. This ordinary little duty is there for us to do.

That little thing may involve turning off a light or switching off a tap, saving electricity, closing a door well. St. Josemaría went to a lot of trouble to teach people how to do these little things well, to close a door properly, not to allow it to bang.

Perfection is in the details. It's one of the ways we don't trust ourselves. We make sure or ask for a second opinion. Little details of obedience.

Little things in our care and charity of other people can mean the world to people—a little greeting, a little happy birthday, a little message here or there, ‘I'm thinking of you in my mind.’ Little things in our apostolate.

Often our friendship with people, and the quality and depth of our friendship, are made up of little things. Details. Details of communication, details of being on time.

We transmit a message with that; the message is in the medium. ‘My friend, you be serious. I want the best for you in your life, I'm thinking about you.’

We try to remember names if we can, or names of children of people, or their brothers and sisters—all those sorts of little details that maybe other people don't remember.

Or in fraternity, to try to remember what people like to talk about. Or to see when they're tired, or how we can help them in some way.

Little things in saying little aspirations, or the spirit of prayer throughout the day often expressed in those little phrases. The detail that leads us to be united to God.

“A humbled, contrite heart, O Lord, you will not spurn” (Ps. 51:19).

“We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world” (St. Francis, Prayer, Stations of the Cross).

All the material standards of our home that we try to foster, take care of, to promote—these have enormous apostolic impact, because other people see the fruit of our work. They learn how to do things. They bring up the human standards all the time.

Our professional work might be made up of thousands of little details. Each one of them is an opportunity to offer this little thing to God, to be united to Him.

A Harvard architect said a good building is one in which details are taken care of.

In all our homes and centers, often that's what people notice. After fifty years, this building is in very good shape. A lot has been taken very good care of.

“God is in the details” (Ludwig Mies van der Rohe).

The greatest messages of one of the longest pontificates in the world, that of Pope John Paul II, were often in small phrases. The culture of life. The civilization of love. The family as a school of deeper humanity. The family as the sanctuary of life.

Saying “Please” and “Thank you” in our normal course of events, interactions with people, can be very important. Everybody loves to hear those words: thank you, appreciation, please. It smoothens out social relations, helps to absorb the little frictions of each day.

Or being on time, or communicating things, or acknowledging some little favor that people may have done for us—it goes a long way.

I heard of Don Álvaro once on one of his trips. He was going out one day somewhere and he forgot to bring his glass case. Somebody offered him a case for their glasses, so he could keep his glasses in it. Don Álvaro thanked him.

But then about five more times that day, Don Álvaro said, “Thank you for lending me your glass case.”

He went over, above and beyond, that detail of thanking the person. Great refinement there.

Our centers are meant to be schools of personal formation. There's a Christian materialism that is mentioned there, that there is something divine hidden in the most ordinary human things.

Therefore, all those material things have to work. They have to be in good working condition. It's one of the reasons why we have little repair notes in our centers, so we get the help of so many people to help everything to work properly. It makes a big difference.

I was in a building once in the last two weeks—not a center of Opus Dei, but somebody was very involved there. You could see our spirit reflected in the material details.

The thing was finished very well. Obviously, somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to take care of those details. Very noticeable.

Somebody described professionalism once as “producing our best work, irrespective of how we may be feeling.” The quality of our work doesn’t or can't just depend on how I'm feeling today, or this hour, or my chemistry, or my hormones, or the weather, or whether it's raining or sunny.

We try to do our best work, our best job, irrespective of how we're feeling. We conquer our feelings. We put our heart into things.

That also involves a certain urgency in the little duties that we have in front of us or the little jobs. It means we try to fix things as soon as possible.

We buy that new thing, or we write a note about it, or follow it up, get the job done. Often perfection is getting the thing done, finishing it, putting the full stop, saying this is finished, out of the way.

Certain tasks may be more important than others. That's why we have to have a to-do list.

Our little duties can involve a certain order. We don't just do the duty that we feel like best. It might be number ten in priority.

Sometimes it takes fortitude to tackle the most urgent thing, because it might be the thing we feel least like doing. But that's the most urgent, the most important.

The particular thing that we're asked to do—in principle, that's the most important. That takes priority over everything in this particular moment.

In carrying out those little duties, we champion the cause of material improvement, because over time, material things tend to deteriorate. But by fulfilling this thing now, fixing this thing now, or noticing, we help things to be in their best shape, to reflect our spirit.

It's a silent witness of material things. But that silent witness is there because we have taken care of the small things. Sometimes those small things can have an enormous impact.

I've seen a gathering of three or four people in the living room, starting a pro-life group, that went on to change the constitution, change the whole nation. Often the important thing is just making a beginning, making a start, getting the ball rolling.

“Make an effort,” said St. Josemaría in The Forge, “to respond at each moment to what God is asking of you: have the will to love him with deeds.—They may be little deeds but do not leave any out” (J. Escrivá, The Forge, Point 82).

What is God asking of me in this particular moment?

He says in The Forge, “You must instill in all souls the heroism of doing the little things of each day perfectly, as if the salvation of the world depended on each one of those actions” (J. Escrivá, The Forge, 85).

“The heroism of doing the little things of each day perfectly.” This is the heroism that God asks of us, the heroism that He wants us to transmit to every child in the school, to every mother, to every father, to every family.

“Surely all those consolations,” we’re told in The Forge, “I receive from the Master are given me so that I may think of him all the time and serve him in little things, so as to be able to serve him in great things.—A resolution: to please my good Jesus in the tiniest details of my daily life” (J. Escrivá, The Forge, 203).

Could be in making a bed, or tidying our room, or leaving a bathroom well, or putting things away in their place—those little duties of each moment is where God is waiting for us.

“You need to think about your life calmly,” he says, “and without scruples, to ask for forgiveness, and make a firm, definite, and determined resolution to improve in one point and another: to improve in that particular small detail which you find hard, and in that other one which as a rule you do not carry out as you should, even though you well know you ought to be doing it” (J. Escrivá, The Forge, Point 115).

Little things in our interior struggle, in our particular fight, our resolution for today, our resolution from the examination of conscience, so that every day I try to be better, and I come back and I start again.

“Many great journeys begin with the first step,” we’re told (Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching).

Our Lady at Cana of Galilee notices that the wine is lacking. She must have been very attentive to little things. There were probably many other things being spoken about, news being discussed, people catching up with one another.

But out of the corner of her eye, Our Lady was watching all the little things involved in the feast; those background things that maybe, the giver of the feast had to be concerned about (John 2:1-3).

Our Lady was there with her friend, that unity of friendship. Precisely, unity of friendship: to do something about that little thing that could become a big thing.

She asked her Son to work a miracle (John 2:3,5), something she would never do for the rest of her life. She didn't do it for herself; she did it for her friend.

Mary, may you help us to grow in our love of those little things, particularly in our apostolate, where there may be many great fruits dependent on those small things.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

JSD