Our Call to Holiness Is Messy ... and That’s OK

Natalie Hanemann describes her very messy growth in holiness and how 'making family' is the vineyard we are called to labor in as laypeople. 

Does the idea of growing in “holiness” feel intimidating? If you’re like me, you’re a wife, a mom, you may even be coming in hot on two wheels about to land into middle age. I used to imagine holiness as the porcelain-skinned Blessed Mother, meek and mild. I couldn’t look more different — I’m just glad on the days I get to shower. But what if there are other images of holiness more in line with where we are in life?  

The term “holiness” means a state of being spiritually pure or virtuous. The words “pure” and “virtuous” are equally intimidating. But purity isn’t the same as “stainless,” and nowhere does it say virtue can’t be messy.  

Life in the modern world is a push and pull to remain pure and virtuous. In our home, we knock up against the culture creep when we sit down to watch Netflix or when the kids start playing the latest Midwest emo song. As parents, we never get a break from playing referee on what we allow to enter the home.  

Labor in the vineyard 

During Vatican II, the Church made a new and bold statement concerning the laity (those of us in the Church who are not clergy or religious sisters/monks). Using Matthew 20:1-2 as a metaphor, Saint John Paul II wrote Christifideles Laici and the topic of this encyclical is us, those who make up 99.1% of the Church: the lay faithful.  

In the parable, a vineyard owner goes out to hire laborers, whom he offers to pay one denarius a day. The vineyard, John Paul explains, is the kingdom of God. Some laborers jump right in and spend hours working the land under the hot sun. Often the labor is painful, the plants unyielding. These workers are the clergy and religious, laboring day and night for our souls ... making the ultimate sacrifice of independence, marriage, children, and the comforts that come with financial success. Their level of holiness is awe-inspiring.  

Then the vineyard owner says: “You go into the vineyard too.” He is speaking to us. We come in at the 11th hour and are paid the same amount. Does this make anyone else feel uncomfortable? We may even feel like the fruits of our labor as a layperson could never begin to compare.  

But we’d be wrong. 

The Domestic Church 

The work laypeople do, particularly those who are married and raising children in the faith, is to make family. Sound easy? Uh, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  

The family is a domestic church. But this church looks very different than the parish church we attend. No stained glass, no austerity ... or time for silent contemplation. (At least not in my house!) If there is an order to the chaos at home, it is hidden. Deep-down.  

And let’s be honest, all the little members of our domestic church are in various stages of development. This makes our evangelization efforts especially challenging. See, our parish church is full of people who voluntarily choose to be there. The domestic church is home and each little member’s presence is not voluntarily — they don’t choose to either attend or not attend — the home exists because the members were born into it. The children don’t stay because they choose to stay. They stay because it is their home, where the people who care for them live, where food and comfort abound. They stay because it’s where the love resides.  

Images of holiness 

While the terms “meek and mild” have never been adjectives to describe me, I am holding on to a different image of holiness. In our domestic church, holiness looks like our son helping out with the dishes after a long day of school and basketball practice; it looks like my husband sitting at the dining-room table after working all day to outline a paper on the Cold War with our 8th grader. It looks like me heading out for a 30-mile round-trip to pick up my daughter’s prescription because the RX is now ready and she needs it.  

The Bible doesn’t say holiness is never messing up. The reason Jesus told Peter he had to forgive 7 x 70 is because Jesus knows us. He knows we’ll make mistakes and lose our tempers. But saying sorry is the gateway to growth. Pushing through those long nights of multiplication or sickness or teenager tantrums is how we grow in holiness.  

While a much messier image, it is no less pure. It is no less virtuous. It is growth toward becoming more like Jesus, the One who showed us that holiness is sacrifice because love is self-giving.  

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Copyright 2024 Natalie Hanemann
Images: Canva