On a solitary walk through the woods recently, I noticed the leaves, all but a few, lying on the ground. A sadness came over me as I mourned the beauty of the autumn season—a time of particular splendour in Nova Scotia. Moving around the next turn though, I noticed something else: sooner than I usually could, I saw the lake through the nakedness of the trees, and I breathed in the gift of this clarity.


In the barrenness, there is clarity.


I find it to be a truth, in the experience of my own heart, that even life can obstruct my view of Life. Even beauty can distract me from Beauty.






The kingdom of Judah was suffering in Jeremiah’s time. In those days, Babylon invaded and besieged Judah. They even destroyed their temple. Jeremiah, seeking some clarity amidst the clutter and confusion, writes from a place of anguish and grief as these emotions collide simultaneously with God’s hope and a promise for a new future. One might say that the barrenness of his heart offered a place for God’s hope to shine through the clearing. This is the gift of God’s providence—His go-beforeness that affords us an eternal hope when it seems all is lost.


Providence is a deeply mysterious and inexplicably comforting thing. There have been many ways in the recent years of my life that God has used a “Jeremiah” to forecast hope into my journey. Many of those times, I didn’t agree that hope was even a possibility, but it always was—because He always is. There have also been many times when I couldn’t see the “forest for the trees” so to speak, because my life, or more accurately, my mind, was cluttered with stories, lies, worries, and other meaningless preoccupations. In fairness, the clutter has also occurred during times of legitimate confusion because the circumstances of my life were too much to bear, and hope seemed to me an ancient fable. It’s also true that through these very same trials, I have been stripped as bare as a late autumn tree, and His hope, healing, and prophesy have been received with the utmost clarity.


As we embark on our journey through Advent, loosening our grip on the season of Ordinary Time, God calls us into this tension. In the spaces where we are clinging to the warmth and greenery of the season gone by, He calls us to look longingly into the deep purple of the crisp night sky with trust, hope, and a remembrance of His promises.




Let us pray:
Loving Father, I thank You for going before me always; for Your power, Your providence, Your righteousness, Your hope. Purify my heart and mind of worldly beauty and life to make way for Your eternal Beauty and Life. I cling only to Your promises, Father, and trust You in all things. Amen.




Lori MacDonald

Today’s Gospel presents us with a scene from the Passion: Jesus being questioned by Pontius Pilate. In the season of Advent, as we are preparing our hearts for the birth of Christ, why are we being invited to reflect upon His death? 


Jesus’ birth and death frame the most remarkable life ever lived. They are precisely those moments when His reasons for becoming flesh, like us, come into focus. Fully human, He embodied the best of humanity, a perfect example for His people. Fully divine, He is a King, and His kingship shines as a light to the nations throughout our broken world. 


In a few weeks we will celebrate Jesus’ coming, a Messiah born under the humblest of circumstances: in a place for animals, far from His extended family with no women to attend his mother, His majesty acknowledged by a few lowly shepherds and three wise men from a far away place. 


In the Gospel reading, He approaches death, again in circumstances far from kingly. He is beaten worse than an animal, crucified with criminals — the most horrifying and shameful punishment of the ancient world — and laid to rest in a borrowed tomb.  


Jesus’s kingship is strange to us, backward even. A poor king? A crucified Messiah?  


It has never been His position in this world that identifies Christ as King. 


Pontius Pilate sees the disconnect and asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” and again, “So you are a king?” Jesus answers, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” 


This world is not His kingdom, but He loves this world and so He willingly sacrificed Himself to save it. He chose to be human. And He chose to be born and to die in humility, showing us that kingship is not about political influence, powerful friends, and wealth. (Those who believe otherwise have the understanding of Pilate, and they have missed the mark.) 


Kingship is about conquering death.  


Jesus did what no other could do; He died and, trampling death, rose again, putting us into a right relationship with God and securing our salvation.  


We prepare for you, Jesus, Our King. Lead us through death to life everlasting.




Donna Davis

ἀποκάλυψις.  apocalypse.  revelation.
ἀπό + καλύπτω.  away + cover




A revelation is an unveiling.


A caul being removed.
Every eye will see Him.




He is…


Faithful witness. His resurrection is His testimony.
Firstborn. The needle piercing through a cloth carrying the thread of the rest of us through.
Ruler. His kingship is complete, anchored not in a country, but in the cross.




He does…


Love us. Desire drew Him near, knowing the cost.
Free us. Sin, the slow death we chose. Each cord that crushes our heart, He cuts.
Make us. No longer what we became, but what we were meant to be.




We are…


A kingdom. Creation of His reign in each heart unfolding. Together a landscape of His love.
Priests. Carriers of His presence to covered eyes. Bringing others with us through the veil.
Children. Always. As He who is King is always Son, we are forever His little ones.




In His coming on the clouds we are cut open.
To lament is to tear apart a garment. Our hearts are finally revealed to ourselves.
The only way we can bear the sight is through His eyes, the lifted curtain of His love.




Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.




Noreen Smith

This beautiful psalm brings the peace of a sure knowledge that Christ is indeed King, something which we acknowledge on this solemnity of Christ the King. It describes Jesus, robed in majesty, and seated on His throne, surveying the entirety of the world with all its human frailty, and still loving us. The fact that we celebrate this feast day on the last Sunday of ordinary time, just before entering a period of waiting for His birth, makes the promise of that everlasting love ring even more true for me.


The power of Jesus is exactly what the world needs right now. It is not like the power that comes with position, prestige, or wealth. It is not of this world. It is the power that enters my heart in the hardest of times and brings overwhelming, unspeakable peace. It is the inexplicable power that causes me to see my enemy with compassion. It is the power of Love.


I am being given the gift of learning about the love of Christ anew through my granddaughter. In the last year, I felt called to leave my comfortable ministry of singing in order to bring her to mass weekly. She is comfortable in our parish in a way that I suspect the Lord wants all His children to be. She enters the building with expectant joy, bows to the tabernacle and says, “Hi Jesus,” and then takes her seat. As the celebration progresses, she is learning about the Mass, to share the peace of Christ by waving, and to say some simple prayers. I am most in awe of her at the consecration. At the age of 3, she understands that Jesus is with her, and she will often point to the altar and say, “Jesus is up there but He is here too,” as she places her hand on her heart. And with that simple proclamation, my faith is completely renewed. He is with her and in her, as He is with me and in me, forevermore.


So, as we prepare to enter this beautiful period of waiting on the Lord, let us wait with expectant hope and the sure knowledge of a little child that Christ is King.


Let us pray:

Father God, thank You for the gift of Your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Forgive me for the times I have not felt worthy of Your love and help me to always see You with a childlike faith, confident in Your everlasting power and dominion. Amen.




Sandy Graves