Twice, I was very pregnant in Advent, and I thought a lot about how riding on a donkey might bring on labour. With each month of pregnancy, babies occupied more of my body – as well as my mind and heart. And with birth, these little people become literal parts of my body and soul existing in the world distinct from me. 

Two recent ads are receiving accolades for their pro-family messaging. The first is a near mini-movie for Volvo, promoting the car’s safety features in protecting a mother with a child in utero. The second commercial for Apple airpods flashes back in time to show us how a new baby became the teenager her father is now watching unwrap the gift of a new guitar. Both present beautiful vignettes speaking to the meaningful adventure that is family. Both give a positive portrayal of men, which is quasi-miraculous today. Both contribute to a culture in which we can watch what we know in our hearts: that family is a major source of meaning for everyone. 

Sometime ago I was in conversation with a friend about the Church politics of the day. He said, “Sometimes I look at the people around me and it strikes me that 99 per cent of them know nothing about the Church politics we discuss so passionately. Even if they did, they would not care.” I heard a call to exercise humility and do my best to avoid naval gazing and focus on sharing the Good News with others as witnesses to the love of the Trinitarian God. With all the ink spilled on the synodal process in the universal Church, its call to mission is what I find myself reflecting on most as we enter the third crucial phase of the synodal process: implementation. 

Hope.  Is there anything this world needs more?  With violence, atrocities and natural disasters filling the news every day, it sometimes feels hopeless and unbearable.  No wonder Pope Francis called for a Jubilee year of hope.  We need it.  No wonder he called for 2024 to be a year of prayer, to open our hearts to the possibility of hope.  “2024 will be dedicated to a great symphony of prayer”, he wrote.  “First of all, to recover the desire to be in the presence of the Lord, to listen to him and adore him.  To put the need for a profound relationship with the Lord back at the centre of people’s lives.”

My mother liked to recall walking to Midnight Mass under the moon on the cold, clear December night when, for the first time in history, people were “up” there.  That Christmas Eve, three humans circled the moon 10 times, broadcasting back home a reading from the book of Genesis.  As my mother noted, the moon would never be the same again, nor would the earth, now that humans—accustomed to looking out from our planet at other heavenly bodies—arrestingly beheld a view of the earth from somewhere else.  As the astronaut who snapped the “Earthrise” photograph on that mission noted, they’d trained and prepared to explore the moon, but instead discovered Earth.

I am bringing you good news of great joy.

Luke 2:10

We approach the time of year when many are engaged in seasonal preparations, especially mailing the annual Christmas card. There are a number of stories about the first such card. One that resonates with me is about Henry Cole who, in 1843, was reportedly the first person to issue premade cards in volume. Cole was prodigiously popular at a time when one could not leave correspondence unanswered. Feeling the pressure of the season to respond to his army of friends, he commissioned what we would now call a traditional card, printed on hard cardboard stock, with the greeting, ‘A Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year To You.’ The story is he had at least a thousand printed.

My favourite book is “The Wound and the Gift,” the biography of Scottish poet and novelist George Mackay Brown. His poetry and novels were written with a sensitivity that was able to look beyond the wound, to see the gift within; a gift that often contributed to the person’s woundedness. 

When I was a kid, my brother came home from Catholic summer camp singing a dirge that went like this: “Pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you; seems like they have nothing else to do.” 

The Gospel for the feast of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe calls us to enter the kingdom of truth. As his death drew near, Jesus said to Pilate, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” (John 18.37)

Last week, our American brothers and sisters went to the polls to choose the next president of the United States. Within the coming year, Canadian Catholics will also be called to cast ballots for their party of choice in the next federal election. But which candidate should they choose?