25 December 2024 - Midnight Mass
Is 9, 1-6; Tit 2, 11-14; Lk 2, 1-14
Homily
Dear brothers and sisters,
The problem of ‘undocumented migrants’ is not new. It already existed at the time of Jesus' birth. Under the Roman occupation, the Jews were refugees in their own country - just like millions of others today. So it was that, at the whim of the occupying power, Mary and Joseph, like so many others, had to take to the road to get themselves legalized.
It is precisely with a brief mention of this event that the Evangelist Luke opens the grandiose chapter 2 of his Gospel, in which he announces all the great themes of this Gospel. This text is not simply an account of the birth of Jesus. In fact, Luke doesn't even let any of the characters in his story speak, apart from the angels! It is a doctrinal statement. And Luke, who is an excellent writer, chooses with great care each of the words that he himself uses in this account.
First of all, Luke takes Mary and Joseph as far as Bethlehem, the city of David. The birth of Jesus does not take place during the journey, but once they have arrived in Bethlehem - ‘while they were there’, says the text. Then the translation we read says: ‘the time for her to give birth was fulfilled’. It would probably be more accurate to translate the Greek original literally and say: ‘ The time was fulfilled and the time came for her to give birth’. It is the times, in absolute terms, that are fulfilled (and not just the nine months of Mary's gestation). We have reached the end of time. And then there is another translation problem. The Greek text does not say that she gave birth to ‘ her first-born son’, but rather that she gave birth to ‘ the first-born’, the first-born par excellence, that is, the first-born of the eternal Father.
And what does Mary do? She immediately gives us her son, and she gives him to us as food. In fact, in the words that follow, Luke is already symbolically announcing the mystery of the Eucharist and the Passion. Mary lays her son in a manger. It should be noted that Mary and Joseph are already in the town of Bethlehem and that the Gospel text speaks of neither a stable nor a grotto, and even less of an ox or a donkey. In the symbolic language of Luke, by placing her child in a manger, Mary offers him to us as food, but not without having wrapped him in bandages, as is done for burial -- which already heralds the Passion. For there was not yet room in the ‘upper room’, which means that his ‘hour’ had not yet come. In fact, the Greek word used here (translated as ‘common room’) does not mean an inn. The word is used only twice in the New Testament: here, and in the account of the Last Supper, where it refers to the upper room where the last supper is served.
Without going any further into the exegesis of this passage from Luke's Gospel, we can already see that this is not simply a slightly romantic account of the birth of a baby in a cave in the middle of the night. Rather, we find here a very profound theological reflection on the meaning of this birth. So we understand why Luke brings in the angels (who, once again, are the only ones who speak in this whole story) to tell the shepherds who are looking after their flocks: ‘ I bring you good news of great joy for all the people... Today... a Saviour is born to you ’. And what is the sign that salvation has arrived? ‘ You will find a newborn baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger ‘. And the story ends with a heavenly choir singing: ‘ Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to those whom he loves ’.
Saint Luke writes in Greek. To speak of ‘peace’, he uses the word eirenè, which means the absence of violence or war. But the angels must have sung in the language of the shepherds (! ) and they must have used the word shalom, which is much more meaningful. Shalom means the well-being of human beings among themselves, a well-being founded on justice and truth and expressed in brotherhood and joy. It has nothing to do with the pax romana, the resigned tranquillity that produces empires.
This peace announced by the angels is the peace spoken of by the prophet Isaiah in the evocative poetic language we heard in the first reading: ‘ a child has been born to us, a son has been given to us “; then ” the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light rise up and a light has shone on the inhabitants of the land of darkness ’.
And Saint Paul, the deep thinker that he is, speaks - in the second reading - of the ‘ manifestation of God's grace “ -- grace in the sense of beauty, tenderness, mercy, and which calls us to live in the present time in a ” reasonable ’ way, that is, with justice and piety.
These three readings set out a whole programme for our lives. Christmas must not be a moment of nostalgia that makes us forget reality. The reality is that, today as in the time of Jesus, but no doubt in far greater numbers, there are many people without papers, many refugees in their own country. There are tens of millions of child refugees. Many children are killed by barbarian hordes in the name of diabolical ideologies. Many are the child soldiers who are taught to kill at an age when they should be learning to live. Many are the victims of economic crises and the austerity programmes that are supposed to remedy them. And yet... And yet, ‘ I bring you good news of great joy for all the people ’, said the angel to the shepherds. For all the people... It's up to us, to each and every one of us, to see what we can do to make this project a reality, so that all our brothers and sisters in humanity are touched in their everyday lives by this message of peace and joy.
Our Christmas carols, with all their poetry and sometimes their romanticism, will only be useful, our contemplation of the Child in the cot will only be true, if the song of the angels and the star of the shepherds lead us towards the most fragile and marginalised elements of our humanity, and if we recognise in them the One whose birth we celebrate this night.
Armand Veilleux