Why don’t we see more miracles these days? In particular, why don’t we see more miraculous physical healings these days? Some friends of mine and I have been asking ourselves this question lately. If you’re like us, you pray constantly for miracles: miracles of healing, conversions, reconciliations, finances, etc. And we hardly ever seem to get presto chango results. Why don’t we instantly get what we’re asking for? Didn’t Jesus say: “If two of you agree about anything to pray for…it shall be granted”? I feel like I already have the necessary “faith to move mountains,” because I really believe God can do anything. In fact, I’m actually shocked each time my prayers don’t manifest miracles for myself or others. So why don’t my (and my friends’) prayers “work”?

One of my favourite Christmas cards is of the infant Christ reaching up from His cradle to cradle the face of a donkey.  The look of mutual wonder and delight is suffused with light and love.  It sounds kitsch, I know, but in truth it cuts to the heart of the Incarnation, and expresses a profound theological reality.  

“God sent his Son, born of a woman” (Galatians 4:4).

When you think of Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ, how do you picture her? The Bible gives us several beautiful pictures of Mary as a mother: there is Mary with newborn baby Jesus and Joseph (Luke 2:16); there is Mary at the presentation of Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:22-38); there is Mary is at the wedding feast at Cana (John 2:1-11). The pictures describe Mary as a mother of love. Each year, during the Christmas Season, on January 1, we celebrate the Motherhood of Mary. By accepting to be the Mother of Jesus, Mary played a special role in God’s plan for his people. In Jesus we have become children of God. As God’s children, we are empowered by the Spirit to call God “Abba! Father!” (Galatians 4:7).

What should we do when faced with a crisis too big to handle? How do we get ourselves out of the depths of despair, a worst case scenario, an unexpected downturn, a sudden tragedy, a seemingly unsolvable dilemma, a grief that never seems to end? Often, there’s no way out but through, and as in all things, we must turn to God. “But I have turned to God! I’ve been praying and making sacrifices. I’ve been begging and pleading with God, but nothing seems to change. In fact, things are getting worse.” 

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.