Isn’t it funny that the liturgical year starts with a period of waiting? Every year we get things going, by waiting. We wait for the birth of Christ through the season of Advent. I think this is fascinating and worthy of contemplation. Recently I found a source for such a contemplation in our country’s two official languages.

Advent is upon us once again. It’s a time of hopeful expectation and renewal, a chance to feast upon the mercy and goodness of God who sent His Son to Earth for our salvation.

In a speech to an international congress in Madrid last month, the president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, Archbishop Jose Gomez, painted movements of social justice, “wokeness” and identity politics as pseudo-religions.

Advent, like Lent, is a prayerful time of joyful expectation of a major feast of the Christian year.

Often when a particular friend of mine says certain things, I don’t react right away. In fact, it might require days. Or impose a prudent pause until the 12th of Never.

Catholic Register columnist Glen Argan failed. To his credit he admitted it. After writing a gravely inaccurate column on the residential schools issue, he corrected the facts in his next one.

I’ve had the luxury of having a voice over the past 40 years. It’s a privilege to have had my words read. I hope at times those words have moved readers and perhaps moved them enough to act or at least think more deeply about the important issues of our times.

There is a freedom in walking the streets, following my instincts and seeing where the Spirit will lead. On this particular evening I was unexpectedly led back 14 years to a cold evening on Jan. 11, 2007, but I was taken there by a circuitous route.

Last year Pope Francis delivered his traditional Christmas message from the Hall of Benediction of St. Peter’s Basilica, rather than from the usual window where popes more traditionally appear before tens of thousands of the faithful. Just as his place of delivery reflected the grim reality of COVID, so too did his message focus on the responsibilities we — and the wealthier nations especially — have towards those in need.

Omar El Akkad begins his novel, What Strange Paradise, with this sentence: “The child lies on the shore.” That beginning calls to mind the photo of the dead three-year-old refugee Alan Kurdi whose body was washed ashore on a Mediterranean island in September 2015. The photo sparked heightened global concern for Syrian refugees and an upsurge in donations to help migrants and refugees.