“No longer is he the distant God who can in some way be perceived from afar, in creation and in our own consciousness.” From Bethlehem erupts the news that changes everything, even the “hearts of stone.” The pope’s homily for Christmas Eve

by Benedict XVI

Fra Angelico, 1440, Nativity, Florence, Convent of San Marco.

Dear brothers and sisters, “a child is born for us, a son is given to us” (Is 9:5). What Isaiah prophesied as he gazed into the future from afar, consoling Israel amid its trials and its darkness, is now proclaimed to the shepherds as a present reality by the Angel, from whom a cloud of light streams forth: “To you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord” (Lk 2:11). The Lord is here. From this moment, God is truly “God with us”. No longer is he the distant God who can in some way be perceived from afar, in creation and in our own consciousness. He has entered the world. He is close to us. The words of the risen Christ to his followers are addressed also to us: “Lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age” (Mt 28:20). For you the Saviour is born: through the Gospel and those who proclaim it, God now reminds us of the message that the Angel announced to the shepherds.

It is a message that cannot leave us indifferent. If it is true, it changes everything. If it is true, it also affects me. Like the shepherds, then, I too must say: Come on, I want to go to Bethlehem to see the Word that has occurred there. The story of the shepherds is included in the Gospel for a reason. They show us the right way to respond to the message that we too have received. What is it that these first witnesses of God’s incarnation have to tell us?

The first thing we are told about the shepherds is that they were on the watch – they could hear the message precisely because they were awake. We must be awake, so that we can hear the message. We must become truly vigilant people. What does this mean? The principal difference between someone dreaming and someone awake is that the dreamer is in a world of his own. His “self” is locked into this dreamworld that is his alone and does not connect him with others. To wake up means to leave that private world of one’s own and to enter the common reality, the truth that alone can unite all people. Conflict and lack of reconciliation in the world stem from the fact that we are locked into our own interests and opinions, into our own little private world. Selfishness, both individual and collective, makes us prisoners of our interests and our desires that stand against the truth and separate us from one another. Awake, the Gospel tells us. Step outside, so as to enter the great communal truth, the communion of the one God.

To awake, then, means to develop a receptivity for God: for the silent promptings with which he chooses to guide us; for the many indications of his presence. There are people who describe themselves as “religiously tone deaf”. The gift of a capacity to perceive God seems as if it is withheld from some. And indeed – our way of thinking and acting, the mentality of today’s world, the whole range of our experience is inclined to deaden our receptivity for God, to make us “tone deaf” towards him. And yet in every soul, the desire for God, the capacity to encounter him, is present, whether in a hidden way or overtly. In order to arrive at this vigilance, this awakening to what is essential, we should pray for ourselves and for others, for those who appear “tone deaf” and yet in whom there is a keen desire for God to manifest himself. The great theologian Origen said this: if I had the grace to see as Paul saw, I could even now (during the Liturgy) contemplate a great host of angels (cf. in Lk 23:9). And indeed, in the sacred liturgy, we are surrounded by the angels of God and the saints. The Lord himself is present in our midst. Lord, open the eyes of our hearts, so that we may become vigilant and clear-sighted, in this way bringing you close to others as well!

Let us return to the Christmas Gospel. It tells us that after listening to the Angel’s message, the shepherds said one to another: “‘Let us go over to Bethlehem’ … they went at once” (Lk 2:15f.). “They made haste” is literally what the Greek text says. What had been announced to them was so important that they had to go immediately. In fact, what had been said to them was utterly out of the ordinary. It changed the world. The Saviour is born. The long-awaited Son of David has come into the world in his own city. What could be more important? No doubt they were partly driven by curiosity, but first and foremost it was their excitement at the wonderful news that had been conveyed to them, of all people, to the little ones, to the seemingly unimportant. They made haste – they went at once.

In our daily life, it is not like that. For most people, the things of God are not given priority, they do not impose themselves on us directly And so the great majority of us tend to postpone them. First we do what seems urgent here and now. In the list of priorities God is often more or less at the end. We can always deal with that later, we tend to think. The Gospel tells us: God is the highest priority. If anything in our life deserves haste without delay, then, it is God’s work alone. The Rule of Saint Benedict contains this teaching: “Place nothing at all before the work of God (i.e. the divine office)”. For monks, the Liturgy is the first priority. Everything else comes later. In its essence, though, this saying applies to everyone. God is important, by far the most important thing in our lives. The shepherds teach us this priority. From them we should learn not to be crushed by all the pressing matters in our daily lives. From them we should learn the inner freedom to put other tasks in second place – however important they may be – so as to make our way towards God, to allow him into our lives and into our time. Time given to God and, in his name, to our neighbour is never time lost. It is the time when we are most truly alive, when we live our humanity to the full.

Some commentators point out that the shepherds, the simple souls, were the first to come to Jesus in the manger and to encounter the Redeemer of the world. The wise men from the East, representing those with social standing and fame, arrived much later. The commentators go on to say: this is quite natural. The shepherds lived nearby. They only needed to “come over” (cf. Lk 2:15), as we do when we go to visit our neighbours. The wise men, however, lived far away. They had to undertake a long and arduous journey in order to arrive in Bethlehem. And they needed guidance and direction.

Today too there are simple and lowly souls who live very close to the Lord. They are, so to speak, his neighbours and they can easily go to see him. But most of us in the world today live far from Jesus Christ, the incarnate God who came to dwell amongst us. We live our lives by philosophies, amid worldly affairs and occupations that totally absorb us and are a great distance from the manger. In all kinds of ways, God has to prod us and reach out to us again and again, so that we can manage to escape from the muddle of our thoughts and activities and discover the way that leads to him. But a path exists for all of us. The Lord provides everyone with tailor-made signals. He calls each one of us, so that we too can say: “Come on, ‘let us go over’ to Bethlehem – to the God who has come to meet us.

Yes indeed, God has set out towards us. Left to ourselves we could not reach him. The path is too much for our strength. But God has come down. He comes towards us. He has travelled the longer part of the journey. Now he invites us: come and see how much I love you. Come and see that I am here. “Transeamus usque Bethlehem,” the Latin Bible says. Let us go there! Let us surpass ourselves! Let us journey towards God in all sorts of ways: along our interior path towards him, but also along very concrete paths – the Liturgy of the Church, the service of our neighbour, in whom Christ awaits us.

Let us once again listen directly to the Gospel. The shepherds tell one another the reason why they are setting off: “Let us see this thing that has happened.” Literally the Greek text says: “Let us see this Word that has occurred there.” Yes indeed, such is the radical newness of this night: the Word can be seen. For it has become flesh. The God of whom no image may be made – because any image would only diminish, or rather distort him – this God has himself become visible in the One who is his true image, as Saint Paul puts it (cf. 2 Cor 4:4; Col 1:15). In the figure of Jesus Christ, in the whole of his life and ministry, in his dying and rising, we can see the Word of God and hence the mystery of the living God himself.

This is what God is like. The Angel had said to the shepherds: “This will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger” (Lk 2:12; cf. 2:16). God’s sign, the sign given to the shepherds and to us, is not an astonishing miracle. God’s sign is his humility. God’s sign is that he makes himself small; he becomes a child; he lets us touch him and he asks for our love. How we would prefer a different sign, an imposing, irresistible sign of God’s power and greatness! But his sign summons us to faith and love, and thus it gives us hope: this is what God is like. He has power, he is Goodness itself. He invites us to become like him.

Yes indeed, we become like God if we allow ourselves to be shaped by this sign; if we ourselves learn humility and hence true greatness; if we renounce violence and use only the weapons of truth and love. Origen, taking up one of John the Baptist’s sayings, saw the essence of paganism expressed in the symbol of stones: paganism is a lack of feeling, it means a heart of stone that is incapable of loving and perceiving God’s love. Origen says of the pagans: “Lacking feeling and reason, they are transformed into stones and wood” (in Lk 22:9). Christ, though, wishes to give us a heart of flesh. When we see him, the God who became a child, our hearts are opened. In the Liturgy of the holy night, God comes to us as man, so that we might become truly human. Let us listen once again to Origen: “Indeed, what use would it be to you that Christ once came in the flesh if he did not enter your soul? Let us pray that he may come to us each day, that we may be able to say: I live, yet it is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me (Gal 2:20)” (in Lk 22:3).

Yes indeed, that is what we should pray for on this Holy Night. Lord Jesus Christ, born in Bethlehem, come to us! Enter within me, within my soul. Transform me. Renew me. Change me, change us all from stone and wood into living people, in whom your love is made present and the world is transformed. Amen.

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In the illustration: Fra Angelico, 1440, Nativity, Florence, Convent of San Marco.

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23.12.2009

Source: www.chiesa.espressonline.it

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The origins and meaning of the holiday. St. Francis’ stroke of genius. This is how Joseph Ratzinger explained Christmas to the pilgrims who had come from all over the world, just before Christmas Eve.

by Benedict

In the illustration: Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470, Adoration of the Magi, London, National Gallery

Dear brothers and sisters, with the Christmas novena, which we are celebrating in these days, the Church is inviting us to live in an intense and profound way the preparation for the Nativity of the Savior, which is now imminent. The desire that we all hold in our hearts is that the upcoming feast of Christmas may give us, in the midst of the frenetic activity of our days, the serene and profound joy that allows us to touch with our hands the goodness of our God, and fills us with new courage.

In order to understand better the significance of the Nativity of the Lord, I would like to make some brief remarks on the historical origin of this solemnity. In fact, the Church’s liturgical year did not initially develop beginning from the birth of Christ, but from faith in his resurrection. For this reason, the most ancient feast of Christianity is not Christmas, it is Easter [Pascha]; the resurrection of Christ is the foundation of the Christian faith, it is at the basis of the proclamation of the Gospel, and gives birth to the Church. Therefore being Christian means living in a Paschal manner, participating in the dynamism that arises from baptism and leads us to die to sin in order to live with God (cf. Romans 6:4).

The first to state clearly that Jesus was born on December 25 was Hippolytus of Rome, in his commentary on the book of the prophet Daniel, written about the year 204. Some exegetes later noted that the feast of the dedication of the Temple of Jerusalem, instituted by Judas Maccabeus in 164 B.C., was celebrated on that day. The coinciding of these dates would therefore mean that with Jesus, who appeared as the light of God in the darkness, there is the true realization of the consecration of the Temple, the Advent of God upon this earth.

The feast of Christmas took on definitive form in Christianity in the fourth century, when it replaced the Roman feast of the “Sol Invictus,” the invincible sun; this highlighted the fact that the birth of Christ is the victory of the true light over the darkness of evil and sin.

However, the special and intense spiritual atmosphere that surrounds Christmas developed in the Middle Ages, thanks to St. Francis of Assisi, who was deeply in love with the man Jesus, with God-with-us. His first biographer, Thomas of Celano, recounts in the book “Second Life” that Saint Francis “above all of the other solemnities celebrated with indescribable fervor the Nativity of the Child Jesus, and called a ‘feast of feasts’ the day on which God, having become a little infant, suckled at a human breast” (Fonti Francescane, 199, p. 492).

This special devotion to the mystery of the incarnation gave rise to the famous celebration of Christmas in Greccio. St. Francis probably got his inspiration for this from his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and from the crèche at Saint Mary Major in Rome. What drove the Little Poor Man of Assisi was the desire to experience in a concrete, living, and present way the greatness of the event of the birth of the Child Jesus, and to communicate its joy to everyone.

In his first biography, Thomas of Celano talks about the night of the crèche in Greccio in a living and touching way, making a decisive contribution to the spread of the most beautiful Christmas tradition, that of the crèche. Christmas Eve in Greccio, in fact, restored to Christianity the intensity and beauty of the feast of Christmas, and taught the people of God to grasp its most authentic message, its unique warmth, and to love and adore the humanity of Christ.

This unique approach to Christmas brought a new dimension to the Christian faith. Easter had focused attention on the power of God who conquers death, inaugurates the new life, and teaches hope in the world to come. St. Francis and his crèche highlighted the defenseless love of God, his humility and kindness, which in the incarnation of the Word are manifested to man in order to teach a new way of living and loving.

Celano recounts that, on that Christmas Eve, Francis was granted the grace of a wonderful vision. He saw lying motionless in the manger a little baby, who was awakened from his sleep by the presence of Francis. And he adds: “Nor was this vision at odds with the facts, because, through the work of his grace acting by means of his holy servant Francis, the Child Jesus was reawakened in the hearts of many who had forgotten him, and was profoundly impressed in their loving memory” (Vita prima, Fonti Francescane, 86, p. 307).

This backdrop describes with great precision how much Francis’ living faith in and love for the humanity of Christ transmitted to the Christian feast of Christmas: the discovery that God reveals himself in the tender members of the Child Jesus. Thanks to St. Francis, the Christian people have been able to perceive that at Christmas, God truly became “Emmanuel,” God-with-us, who is not separated from us by any barrier or distance. In that Child, God became so close to each one of us, so near, that we are able to talk to him as a friend and establish a familiar relationship of profound affection with him, as we do with a newborn.

In that Child, in fact, is manifested God-Love: God comes without weapons, without power, because he does not intend to conquer, so to speak, from the outside, but instead intends to be welcomed by man in freedom; God becomes a defenseless Child in order to overcome man’s arrogance, violence, and desire for possession. In Jesus, God has taken on this poor and unarmed condition in order to conquer us with love, and lead us to our true identity. We must not forget that the greatest title of Jesus Christ is precisely that of “Son,” Son of God; the divine dignity is indicated with a term that extends the reference to the humble condition of the manger in Bethlehem, although it still corresponds in a unique way to his divinity, which is the divinity of the “Son.”

Moreover, his condition as a Child shows us how we can encounter God and enjoy his presence. It is in the light of Christmas that we can understand the words of Jesus: “If you do not convert and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). Those who have not understood the mystery of Christmas have not understood the decisive element of Christian existence. Those who do not welcome Jesus with the heart of a child cannot enter the kingdom of heaven: this is what Francis wanted to remind the Christianity of this time and of all times, up until today.

Let us pray to the Father that he grant our hearts that simplicity which recognizes the Child as Lord, just as Francis did in Greccio. Then we too may experience what Thomas of Celano – referring to the experience of the shepherds on Christmas Eve (cf. Luke 2:20) – recounts about those who were present at the event in Greccio: “Everyone went home full of inexpressible joy” (Vita prima, Fonti Francescane, 86, p. 479).

This is the wish that I extend with affection to all of you, to your families and loved ones. Merry Christmas to you all!

(Catechesis given by Benedict XVI at the general audience on Wednesday, December 23, 2009).

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In the illustration: Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470, Adoration of the Magi, London, National Gallery.

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English translation by Matthew Sherry, Ballwin, Missouri, U.S.A.

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23.12.2009

Source: www.chiesa.espressonline.it

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