As it turns out, not very, if you think of ordinary as ho-hum and routine. Instead, suggested one writer during Advent, it's the time when we begin our journey "from the crowded stable to the empty tomb." That's an extraordinary hike.

Did you ever wonder why we call this current liturgical season, the one that lasts longest in the church and doesn't include Lent, Advent, Christmas or Easter, "ordinary"?

It has nothing to do with a lack of bells and whistles, or a boring sameness. Instead, the term stems from the Latin "ordo," the root of our English words order or ordinal. It refers to numbers, as each Sunday in Ordinary Time is numbered. So, the explanation is fairly ho-hum, but the season isn't. And the readings from Ordinary Time invite us to deeply experience the life of Christ.

Years ago, when my prayer life seemed scattered and unfocused, a Mercy nun who was my spiritual director suggested that each morning I pray with the day's liturgical readings -- the readings for that day's Mass. She said it was how to pray along with the universal church.

Back then, she suggested that I pilfer a missalette from the pews to find each day's readings. I can assure you that your parish would prefer you not do this, and today it certainly isn't necessary. Simply googling "daily liturgical readings" will bring you to a host of sites that give you the day's readings, or using one of many daily Catholic devotionals will do the trick.

Each morning, I first peruse the readings. On weekdays, there will be a selection from the Hebrew Scriptures, a psalm and a reading from the Gospels. Usually one reading especially speaks to me and I pray with that, reading it several times, finding a word or phrase that resonates or perhaps finding myself inside a Gospel scene.

Ordinary Time for 2020 started after evening prayer on Jan. 12, and that week we were led into the lovely, familiar story of the calling of Samuel: "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (1 Sm 3:7-11).

The Gospel that was proclaimed on Jan. 17 is one of my favorites. It tells of the men who brought their paralyzed friend to the house where Jesus was, only to find the place so crowded they couldn't get in. Their solution? Hoist the man to the roof, remove some of the roofing and lower him down. Who does that?

Once when I prayed with this scene, I found myself wondering who would do this for me. I imagined the people who came to mind doing this incredible task with such love and determination to heal me.

The great Irish poet Seamus Heaney, a Nobel Prize winner, was also moved by this aspect of the story. He named his poem "Miracle," but like many who read this Scripture (Mk 2:1-12), Heaney dwelt on the miracle of the ones who carried the man.

"Their shoulders numb, the ache and stoop deeplocked/ In their backs, the stretcher handles/ Slippery with sweat."

Heaney urges us to "Be mindful of them as they stand and wait ..."

We will be in this not-so-ordinary Ordinary Time until Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, Feb. 26. During these days, we will be invited to witness much of the life of Christ as told in the Gospel of Mark, we will read much more of the Book of Samuel and we'll pray with some beautiful psalms as we walk with Jesus.

Like the poet, we may find ourselves amazed at what we discover in prayer during Ordinary Time.