Long ago, I learned that when I wrote letters, newspaper articles and any other form of writing by hand, they were more personal, quirky and self-revelatory than when I hammered them out on a typewriter. I also discovered that my writing was less precise, concise and grammatically correct when I took pen in hand. So, before I dared to submit my writing to a prof or an editor, I did a significant amount of editing to make my handiwork acceptable. 

In the early days of Advent, the ‘Prayer after Communion’ included the words, “for even now, as we walk amid passing things, you teach us by them to love the things of Heaven and hold fast to what endures.”  Having experienced many Advent seasons, I know the truth of the words, “We walk amid passing things.” Still, I prefer to contemplate the words, “Love the things of Heaven and hold fast to what endures”.  

Whoever aspires to the office of bishop desires a noble task.

1 Timothy 3: 1

Driving to work one cold January day in 2016, I heard an announcement on the radio that the Bishop of the Diocese of Calgary, Frederick B. Henry, was officially announcing his retirement after 19 years as a bishop. I can’t say I was surprised, but I certainly felt a tug of sadness. 

The Edmonton police stopped outside the downtown Bissell Centre on Tuesday, as they do most mornings. Their task was to cart away the tarps and belongings of homeless people camped on the street. The previous night, the temperature had fallen to minus 16C, and people were cold.

I arrived to drop off some boots and clothes donated by people from Assumption Parish to the Inner City Pastoral Ministry, the ecumenical Church outreach to people on the street. Tuesday is table day for ICPM, the morning when our pastor, Rev. Quinn Strikwerda, and volunteer Maria Kruszewski hand out clothes, candy and whatever else they have on hand. 

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.