Slow the story down and enter frame by frame. Our Advent series reflections are an invitation to step close: to step into the home of Nazareth, crouch in the fields with the shepherds, to crunch straw between your fingers as you listen to the cries of a newborn king. Here, eternity bends low and enters our world. Here, God draws near.
Come with us this Advent as we experience the Incarnation in slow motion.
Egypt
Hatred hunts after holiness. Hidden on his mother’s shoulder, Jesus’ small hands clasp her veil. A wail rises from Bethlehem; Rachel is weeping for her children. Joseph grips his staff, white-knuckled, and Mary wipes tears with the heel of her hand. No one speaks.
Walk quickly. Your heart is pounding, but when you look at Jesus, he is looking back at you. You are in his sight.
You cross into Egypt, and pass under the gaze of false gods. God sits on his mother’s hip and smiles at a street vendor.
Love has gone abroad. Even in a strange land, he is eager to greet his children.
Kings
Mary holds Jesus’s hands so he can greet his visitors. They bow low, cloaks pooling. Jesus flops down before them and pats at one covered head. The man laughs. There are tears in his eyes. His ringed fingers tremble as he opens the lid of a precious box.
The ends of the earth have found their way to Christ.
Lift your gaze: Jesus is looking at you with eyes framed by dark lashes. He babbles something and the room chuckles. Mary kisses his cheek. You breathe in the scent of frankincense, the deep and spicy warmth of myrrh. It mingles with the ordinary smell of baking bread.
Shepherds
The heavens cannot contain their joy; the lowly are the first to hear. In a rush of light and song, creation explodes.
Crouch with the shepherds on the slope. Sheep bump against your legs, bleating. Though your eyes are closed, light and shadow are dancing. You feel joy welling. It bursts out in a laugh. An arm drapes over your shoulders as a shepherd hugs you. He wears tears on his cheeks and a wild grin. God has arrived.
Nativity
Eternity enters time. Heaven stoops so low it fits within a manger. Out of breath, Mary cradles the baby on her chest while Joseph wipes him clean. Animals sniff about curiously. Outside, rain falls in a steady patter.
Kneel on the rough stone beside them. The straw pricks your palms as you steady yourself. Joseph pulls the lantern closer. The light warms the baby’s face.
He is so small. His head fits in the cupped palm of your hand. You stroke his fuzzy hair and whisper in his ear.
This is God, fragile and small. He is here for you.
Road
The Creator passes through the smallness of forgotten towns. Joseph keeps Mary close, scanning the road for any danger. He has a staff in hand and her hand in his. They sleep on the roadside, shoulder to shoulder.
Walk beside them for a day. The wind smells of grass. Your legs ache, and yet a strange joy tugs at you. The night sky opens. Stars stretch endlessly above. You lie on your back, hands crossed behind your head, and listen to Joseph snoring.
Marriage
Marriage becomes the roof under which the Incarnation rests. Their yes is not solitary, but shared, hand in hand. Together, Mary and Joseph prepare for the coming of their God.
Stand at the doorway of their home. Joseph peels a splinter from his thumb while Mary deftly kneads bread. When the baby kicks, they pause. Joseph laughs in wonder.
Mary invites you to put a hand on her belly. Against your palm, you feel the flutter of a little heel kicking.
Joseph
Joseph stares at the ceiling, brown eyes open above a thundering heart. Life as he planned is no more. Something new is here, something greater, but he is not afraid. He listens to the echo of his God’s voice.
With Joseph, rest comfortably in the silence. It is holy. You take a deep breath and let it go. The shadow of a branch moves lazily on the ceiling, stirred by the breeze. Slowly, it lengthens and is swallowed up by dawn.
Annunciation
The Incarnation begins with an open hand. Heaven holds its breath as Mary weighs out her yes. Thunder and cloud. Eternity overshadows the wasteland of earth and its New Eve.
Sit close beside Mary. Her breath trembles (how could it not?) so you squeeze her hand. The air is warm and there is cool stone beneath your feet. Heaven has come into this room. On the windowsill, a dove flutters its feathers and coos.
It is important that your Will include the correct legal name and charitable registration number in your documents. The legal name for the Archdiocese of Ottawa-Cornwall is:
THE ROMAN CATHOLIC EPISCOPAL CORPORATION OF OTTAWA-CORNWALL Charitable Registration # 128967353 RR0001
Your parish office is able provide you with the legal name for your own parish. However, most Archdiocesan parishes and programs can be designated in your Will as:
The Roman Catholic Episcopal Corporation of OTTAWA-CORNWALL, for the benefit of [ Specific Parish, Cemetery, Ministry or Program ] in [ Town / City ].
You may also consider the following clauses in your Will:
For your parish:
“To pay to (Legal Name of Parish) Roman Catholic Parish for its own use absolutely, the sum of (amount) dollars. I declare that the receipt of the person professing to be the Pastor or Parochial Administrator of the parish shall be sufficient discharge to my Trustee who need not see to the application thereof. I further direct that if the (Name of Parish) does not exist at the time of my death, this bequest shall be paid to the Parish’s successor, and if no such successor exists, then to an institution with similar objectives and goals.”
Please email dev@ottawacornwall.ca to make a declaration that you have included the Archdiocese of Ottawa-Cornwall or any for its parishes in your Estate Plans.
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