Run on reverence

Mass, this morning

“What if we ran our lives on reverence instead of results?” The priest spoke slowly, intentionally, with silence settling between each thought.

Sunday morning rituals. Incense. Not great, but above average singing. My midnight black chore coat heaped atop a book of prayers. The sun, still rising, filtered through the ruby reds and royal blues of stained glass.

“What if,” he continued. “We ran our businesses, organizations, hospitals, teams, homes on reverence. What if we ran our lives on reverence?”

“Well,” he finished, “I bet we’d get far better results.”

We caught up after the service, the priest and I. No surprise, reverence has been a theme for me. We agreed that reverence isn’t giddy or excitable, it’s deep, vibrational, and pure. It’s a respect for the wonder and sanctity of all things.

We discussed how routines can both uphold and diminish reverence. We discussed how many people go through the motions of mass similar to how they go through the motions of life, treating it as something to get through—forgetting how holy it all is.

What would it be like, I pondered, to take every step of my walk home with reverence?

So I did.

Each step, and everything that came with it, became something to revere.

The ordinary became a blessing.

The wind became nourishing. The sun became nourishing. The sights became nourishing. The sound of my shoes clacking on the sidewalk became music.

Each step was imbued with the fullness of being.

I stopped to get a croissant and cappuccino at my favorite place to get croissants and cappuccinos.

Sunday morning rituals.

Each flakey, buttery bite was revered. Each heavy, foam-filled sip, revered. An elderly gentleman asked if the seat next to me was taken. I revered him. I was able to see the wisdom in his wrinkles and the innocence in his eyes. The miracle of a life sustained for however long. The gift of our ability to communicate with one another and share a small moment in time that took 13 billion years to be here—13 billion years of everything happening exactly as it happened for him to ask me, “Excuse me, sir. Is this seat taken?”

I opened by notebook and reflected on the priest’s message. I scribbled some notes.

I continued my walk home with reverence.

I wrote this with reverence.

Because how wondrous is it that I can have an experience, reflect on it, translate my thoughts into written word and share it with hundreds around the entire world in an instant.

There is so much to behold as a miracle, starting with our existence alone.

We don’t need anything more than our breath—our being—to realize an abundance that no amount of money or outcomes or circumstances can even come close to touching.

We don’t need anything more than this moment, exactly as it is, to live in reverence.

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