Advent: 
 
The arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.  
 
 
Slant: 
 
Slope or lean in a particular direction;  
diverge or cause to diverge from the vertical or horizontal. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

“... just to the right…” 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PART I 
 
In the Company of Zachariah: Sobering up Wanderlust  
 
The Advent Story - Luke 1:1-25 
 
I remember clearly the first time sweet Caitlin flew home to Gander, Newfoundland with me. After 
months of telling her stories of home - what it’s like growing up on the ocean, my friends and the 
parties we’d throw - I couldn’t wait to show her it all. We first stopped in St. John’s. She was captured 
by The Narrows and the city's rugged yet beautiful terrain. From there we made our way to 
Twillingate where we spotted whales, fished for cod, and searched through seaweed for crab. She was 
enchanted and together we could almost feel the earth's lungs inhaling and exhaling as we explored. 
After a few days it was time to go to Gander (where my parents live) and spend some time at home. We 
all had to run to the Gander Mall to pick something up which was one of Caitlin’s first times driving 
through the town, and she didn’t say much. I remember walking down the mall's one shabby hall, 
dimly lit by mediocre fluorescent lights. After walking into Dollarama she turned to me and asked the 
iconic, perfect question that summed it all up: “so, this is it?” 
 
These words are the starting place for understanding the conditions in which the advent story comes 
to us. Zachariah and Elizabeth, the father and mother of a kid named John (nicknamed “the baptizer”) 
lived everyday lives in everyday conditions. Neither Zachariah or Elizabeth drew much attention to 
themselves. Zachariah did shift work as one of the priests at the temple in town, rehearsing inherited 
prayers and traditions day after day for years. Elizabeth at this point in her life had aged, and like many 
of us had complications health wise - she couldn’t conceive children. They would have lived their lives 
walking the same few streets, they would have had their preferred places for produce and goods, they 
would have known the weather patterns of the seasons and the slang that was spoken day by day. It 
was the same old, same old in their neighbourhood, and they were only getting older themselves. 
 
At the centre of Jesus’ stories, his way of life, and his teachings on prayer is the phrase, “on e​ arth​ as it is 
in heaven”. I can almost hear Zachariah, Elizabeth, and Caitlin say together, “so, this is it?” So much of 
our lives are lived in discontent with the conditions we find ourselves in - our jobs, our family 
situations, expensive living in Toronto, a pandemic. Yet, according to Jesus who was yet to be born at 
this point in the advent story, it is precisely in our everyday conditions that heaven bursts out of the 
earth; right where you are, this is it! 
 
It is no coincidence that while Zachariah is punching the clock, working a shift, living another 
mundane moment that an angel bursts out of thin air and floods the underwhelming workplace. The 
angel lets Zachariah know that in these everyday, ordinary, and at times boring conditions his barren 
wife will have a child, John!  
 
This Christmas, as many of us are tired of being in our tiny apartments​ a​ nd confined spaces, repeating 
the same routines, and longing for community, I want to say to you that it’s in these exact conditions - 
through the prayer “on earth as it is in heaven” - that heaven ​will ​burst out of the least likely and 
ordinary places of your life.  
 
Zacharaiah had his doubts. As the angel gave him the news, you can almost picture him looking 
around where he has found himself everyday for years, under old and tired conditions and asking the 
angel, “so, this is it?” 
 
Yes, Zachariah, this is it. Heaven bursting out of the earth in the simple and everyday. Truly, truly.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
“Yes, I see it all now…” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PART II 
 
In the Company of Mary: The Imagination of a Wildflower 
 
The Advent Story - Luke 1: 26-56 
 
If Mary was any other woman, there would be no Jesus Christ of Nazareth as we know him today -  
 
light of the world, 
prince of peace, 
hope of the ages,  
the first resurrected.  
 
There may have been a Jesus or another Saviour incarnate, but not Mary’s son. 
There may have been a birth, but not the manger delivery room scene in Bethlehem. 
There may have been a lover, but not Joseph who raised Jesus in the craft of carpentry.  
 
Without Mary, the fabric of the Jesus story would be dramatically different. 
Without Mary, there would be no​ us​ - as it is her son specifically that we spend our lives becoming, 
knowing, listening to, following, and loving. 
Without Mary, there is no Jesus who was raised alongside James, Joses, Judas, and Simon and his 
sisters.  
 
If God can see and know the entirety of everything, all at once - all of creation, space, time, all of 
history yet the full present, every little bit of every single person and thing - w
​ hat was it about Mary 
that popped out amongst it all?​ The only logical conclusion I can make is that there is something about 
her that God wanted to become like when he became human, moved into the neighbourhood. 
 
The way Jesus meandered through his days has always captivated me, at times more than anything else 
about him. He never rushed or floated by being detached from his neighbours, cultural moment, or 
the moment at hand. He was attentive, curious, and full of wonder in regards to commonly 
overlooked people and places and it was in these places specifically he brought heaven bursting out of 
the earth! For all his metaphors to understand reality through: death and life, seeds and fruit, goats and 
sheep, lamps and wine - I’m always struck by Jesus’ appreciation of the wildflowers (Matthew 6).  
 
Wildflowers are everywhere, common, leaping through cement behind convenient stores, decorating 
and dancing along the coast of the Great Lakes, popping their heads most everywhere. But what is it 
about wildflowers that captivated Jesus? After years of frolicking through the wildflowers myself at the 
invitation of Jesus, I can’t help but wonder if it’s that in unlikely places, the unseen ebbs and flows of 
the everyday, wildflowers live “careless in the care of God” receiving the present moment and 
conditions for what they are, as they come, not letting them pass by. Wildflowers embrace their place 
in the world and don’t seek attention or cause a scene. They are always ready and present to receive, 
whether it be along a neighbour’s fence or deep into the mysteries of the wild. They are extraordinary 
and resilient, yet easily missed - as so much of life and God is. Preoccupation, discontentment, and 
hurry distract or rush us past the mysteries of heaven on earth in everyday life, in ordinary places and 
people. In learning to pay attention to the wildflowers it opened up my imagination to a world of 
remarkable beauty in the easily overlooked and unlikely terrains. 
 
I have a feeling Mary knew the wildflowers by name, the lilacs and sunflowers native to her 
neighbourhood. She wasn’t hurried or rushed or trying to get onto the next thing or person. She 
seemed to be well practiced in being present in the conditions at hand, able to receive it the moment 
for what it is. When this stranger, Gabriel, bursts on the scene speaking God’s vast and unfathomable 
plan, she was in no rush, was not preoccupied, and did not fear. She was so at home in the moment, so 
rooted by trust that when the glow of an angel of heaven hit her eyes her natural response was to listen, 
ask a question, and receive the moment. Like the wildflowers and like Jesus, Mary didn’t rush through 
the everyday and she wasn’t preoccupied with being elsewhere. Every person, place, and thing was hers 
to receive and in all of it, she discovered the gifts of God right in front of her nose.  
 
Mary, the wildflower, is what I think God did not want Jesus or us to miss. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

“Shining on those in the darkness...” 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PART III 
 
In the Company of Cousin John: From his Tent in the Park 
 
The Advent Story - Part III - Luke 1: 57-80 
 
Advent, Christmas, and the Jesus way is a family affair - Zachariah and Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph, 
Jesus and his cousin, John.  
 
At the roots of the story is a family captivated by and participating in the unfolding story of God 
carrying the world from nothingness into life, time and time again. As with all families, there’s always a 
history - stories, traditions, sayings, recipes, songs, and prayers - that helps to shape and inspire the 
on-going family narrative, all of which make the family what it is today . Everything in life is attached 
to a story before it. The people before us have stories that get passed on, and in this storytelling their 
way of life shapes and inspires our own, consciously or subconsciously. 
 
Throughout my years at university in Toronto I’d fly home for Christmas. As the start of December 
would roll in like a winter breeze, I’d be ready and eager for the comforts of home. I’d dream of 
Christmas parties full of dancing and for listening to new stories from old friends, the warm lit nights 
spent sitting with my dad exchanging laughs, and the flavours of shortbread cookies and Christmas 
cooking. Yet as the yuletide arrived and I was gathered at the table, it didn’t take too long to remember 
that like with most families there is usually one exuberant or colourful member that takes certain 
adjusting or warming up to.  
 
Cousin John was anything but typical. Legend speculates that John, after the passing of his elderly 
parents, may have spent his life being raised amongst desert folk - an alternative community called the 
Essenes​. The Essenes community put down their roots out in the open air of the wild, outside the noise 
and shoulder-to-shoulder living of city life. They set up camp elsewhere after observing one too many 
theatrical stunts in the political realm. They fled for the wild after experiencing the distortion and 
bending of religion to be self-serving and politically charged. Their dramatic gesture was in response to 
a cultural moment when too much of day to day life was clustered with false headlines and promises, 
blurring the truth. The Essenes lived simply, grew their own food, made their own clothes, provided 
for their neighbours and spent their time making copies of the stories passed down in scripture. Their 
intent was to prepare a way that was uncluttered, simple, and open so that when the “messiah,” Jesus, 
would burst on the scene they and we would be able to see him, know him, believe him, and receive 
him.  
 
Before Jesus, there was cousin John - a crafty radical who lived simply and mindfully, always honest 
and attentive to the cultural moment. Needless to say, he stood out as unusual or different. His way of 
life was spent on the margins as an outsider, a poet and prophet, the type of person who is easily 
overlooked. He lost his head for this, but John spent his time reciting and singing the line “repent!” - 
change, turn around, be honest, simplify, discover a new way!  
 
This Christmas, the company of cousin John is not something I want to miss. As history repeats itself - 
our headlines and conversations on the streets are cluttered with noise and unhelpful opinion, religion 
continues to be manipulated for political gain and control, and our list of worries and anxieties about 
the future keep piling up - remember that before Jesus came cousin John.  
 
John’s invitation to the world is the same today as it's always been: simplify, declutter, choose to say 
‘no’ to the noise; instead, learn to wait, watch, listen, and anticipate. In doing so both Zachariah and 
John seem to believe that Jesus will guide our feet “into the way of peace,” into an alternative way of 
life.   
 
This Christmas, not unlike the ones of our families before us, do you feel like things are cluttered 
and/or confusing? Are you anxious about this cultural moment and tired of the political theatrics and 
headlines? Is there too much noise, chatter, and slandering? Is there too much hot-air God talk? Hear 
cousin John singing again from the tents in the parks, on cardboard signs, and with those who don’t fit 
in: “simplify and declutter, prepare the way for peace.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“...no room in the hostel.” 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PART IV 
 
In the Company of Heaven on Earth: Every Little Thing, Absorbed 
 
The Advent Story - Part IV - Luke 2:1-20 
 
Every birth is multidimensional.  
 
I was born on an island off the coast of another island. 
 
Fogo, Newfoundland is the first place I cracked open my eyes. Like Jesus, the first sight for me was that 
of a host of strangers, magicians and shepherds. 
 
My parents weren’t residing in Fogo when I was born. My mother’s sister happened to be getting 
married on the same weekend I was predicted to discover light. So, my parents found themselves on a 
ferry crossing the Atlantic while my mom, Hilda, wild and free, was bursting at the seams. In an act of 
holy luck, early in the morning, she went into labour on the day of the wedding. I don’t know what 
the chatter was like that day, but I imagine it was multidimensional. While it was my aunt’s treasured 
day, the kind of day you dream of, filled with flowers, outfits, meals, vows and guest lists on the tip of 
every tongue, something else was happening. Down the road, the miracle of life was becoming. Blood, 
adrenaline, gratitude and love filling the small space of a hospital room. 
 
It turns out that unlike Jesus, I had better luck getting a private room. I was the o​ nly​ baby in the entire 
hospital that weekend. I think my mom was figuring on the unexpected and the possibility of a day 
full of enchantment, so she had me in the morning in time to watch her sister walk the aisle that 
afternoon. She left me at the hospital in the company of wise nurses, doctors with magic hands, and 
my mothers maiden name is Sheppard, so I suppose she felt comforted knowing all of the nativity 
bases were covered.  
 
It’s typical to begin telling or understanding the story of our lives from the moment we first enter the 
world and then on; however, I’ve always been captivated by those moments right before new life 
arrives, the stories before new life, the stories out of which new life bursts from. It’s a shame that these 
birth-scene stories are often overlooked for these are the stories from which we come. 
 
When Jesus’ first cries echoed in Bethlehem’s empty and eerie air, there was no dimension of heaven 
and earth that was not involved and watching. Commotion was happening from all sides. The story 
has it that a few men who spent their days raising sheep, lowly ‘nobodys’ in the economic realm found 
themselves some of the first on the scene. Some wisemen - academics - caught wind of the news and 
hurried off as quick as they could. Jesus, subverting political powers even at birth had the mighty 
Herod shaking in his bedazzled boots.  
 
The story has it that the stars glittered and danced along the night sky lighting the way to heaven on 
the earth, while just a little lower, choirs of angels broke out in a number - one of their favourite songs. 
A little nowhere town on the edge of the world was suddenly put on the map. All this because Mary 
and Joseph - the least likely of them all - wrapped the light of heaven in a blanket while God laughed 
with joy and watched through Fatherly tears. The entire fabric of reality shifted that day, as Jesus 
moved into the neighbourhood. 
 
Should you be in poverty with economic tears, 
should you be a wildflower dancing in the wind, 
should you be a mother about to burst with child - 
everything big and small, 
both heaven and earth 
forevermore  
in Christ, absorbed.