Homily

Today’s liturgy again plunges us into the mystery of Christmas. It is easy for us to forget, getting caught up in the rhythm of our lives and letting ourselves be dominated by it. Perhaps over the last few weeks we have not been as attentive as Mary, who “treasured [everything that happened to Jesus] in her heart.” Unfortunately, the “Christmas spirit” does not always help us understand or, more importantly, live out the mystery of Christmas. It is the mystery that lies at the origin of our salvation, and yet we risk covering it up and making it ineffective in our lives and in the life of the world. The same thing happened to the inhabitants of Bethlehem. Even today, the real Christmas passes without most people taking any notice. Indeed, even back then Christmas did not come in the clamour of the city, but in silence. Writes the Book of Wisdom: “For while gentle silence enveloped all things, and night in its swift course was now half gone” (Wis 18:14-15).
Jesus came into the world the same way as every child, and yet in his birth the most sublime and incredible thing came true: God continued and indeed increased his love for us and the world. After having loved us through creation, he loved us even more radically through redemption. We could say that it is a downward motion, as God lowered himself all the way down to us. He seems to hold nothing back in order to be near us. It is almost as if God moved out of himself. How much would our lives change if we understood that love even a little! The Book of Wisdom and the Gospel of John, although with different contours and accents, both describe this mysterious journey of God, who comes out of himself to reach men and women. The Wisdom that “comes from the mouth of the Most High” and sustains all things prepares the prologue of John, which states: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” In the fullness of God’s eternity the divine word resounds, the creator of the world the one who reveals his great love for humanity. We can imagine the moment of creation as the first step in God’s journey out of himself. All of creation breathes with the Lord’s love: “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge,” sings Psalm 19. But the journey continues, the book of Wisdom seems to be saying. Wisdom is given a command: “Make your dwelling in Jacob, and in Israel receive your inheritance... And so was I established in Zion. Thus in the beloved city he gave me a resting-place.” The small city of Zion and the modest nation of Jacob become the dwelling place of God on earth. The image of the tent, evocative of the temple of Jerusalem, is also used by John to describe the last and final descent of God among men and women. The Letter to the Hebrews effectively summarizes how God has accompanied humanity: “God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son” (Heb 1:1-2). The Word that was with God has entered into our history, taking on our “flesh” and living our days. And he did it all for love.
But why does God journey towards us? We could say that God has a great ambition for us; he wants us to be holy and blameless. Indeed, he chose us before creation. Paul writes that the Father “chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love.” It is a sublime choice, with nothing modest or banal about it. It comes before us, an absolute first that goes beyond all of our merits. In thinking of Jesus, the Father had us in mind too, so that, like him, we might be “holy and blameless.” But it is not simply a question of moral goodness or simply imagining men and women who behave correctly and honestly. Paul describes a new man and a new woman, absolutely different from the old man, Adam, who was so confident in himself and in his strength that he thought he did not need God. To become “holy and blameless” means first of all “to be children,” to trust in God and not in ourselves, to live according to God and his will and not ourselves and our whims. Children, just like Jesus. Christmas, in its truest meaning, means to be reborn, that is, to go back to being children of God, to feeling like children of God. “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” We ask with Nicodemus. The answer is simple: by listening to the Gospel! On Christmas night, and this Sunday, the first page of the Gospel was opened for us, the page that contains Jesus’ birth. We can start again with this first page. We can start to write our lives again. And we will grow, day after day, as the child Jesus grew, if we read page after page of the little book of the Gospel, trying to put it into practice. At Christmas, the Word became flesh. The Gospel must become our life, our flesh, every day of our life. In the year that lies before us, Sunday after Sunday, the Lord will give us the Gospel faithfully in the holy liturgy. Let us not be afraid to accept it! Let us not be afraid! It will not steal away our life, our affections, or our joy! On the contrary, to everyone who accepts it, the Gospel gives love, peace and joy.