Homily for Christmas Day – December 25, 2025
Is. 62:11-12; Ps. 97; Titus 3;4-7; Luke 2:15-20
God Chose to Be With Us
Brothers and sisters in Christ,
Today the Church dares to proclaim something almost too wonderful to believe: God has chosen to come close. Not as thunder or fire, not as a conquering king, but as a child—fragile, dependent, small enough to be held. Christmas is not simply the memory of a birth long ago; it is the mystery that God still chooses nearness.
In the Gospel we hear, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The original meaning of that phrase is even more intimate: He pitched His tent among us. God moves into our neighborhood. He enters our history, our struggles, our wounds, our joys. Nothing truly human is foreign to Him.
This is the scandal—and the beauty—of Christmas.
God does not save us from a distance. He does not wait for the world to become pure, peaceful, or orderly. He comes into the mess. Into poverty. Into political unrest. Into fear and uncertainty. Into a family with no room at the inn. Into a world much like our own.
And perhaps that is why Christmas speaks so powerfully to us today.
Some come to this feast carrying joy and gratitude. Others come with quiet sorrow, grief for someone missing at the table, anxiety about the future, or exhaustion from carrying too much for too long. Christmas does not deny these realities—it enters them. The Child in the manger says to each of us: “I see you. I am with you. You are not alone.”
The light that shines in the darkness is not harsh or blinding. It is gentle. It does not overwhelm; it reassures. Christ does not come to shame our weakness, but to share it. He does not come to condemn our brokenness, but to heal it from within.
The shepherds teach us how to respond. They were not powerful or important by the world’s standards. Yet they were the first to hear the good news. God reveals Himself not to the proud, but to the open-hearted. The shepherds go in haste, and what do they find? Not a palace. Not certainty. Just a baby—and that is enough.
Mary treasures all these things and ponders them in her heart. Joseph stands quietly, faithfully, protecting what he does not fully understand. Each of them shows us that Christmas faith is not about having all the answers, but about welcoming God as He comes.
And how does He come to us today?
He comes in the Eucharist we are about to receive.
He comes in the poor, the sick, the lonely, and the forgotten.
He comes in forgiveness that costs us something.
He comes in love that asks us to begin again.
Christmas is God’s definitive answer to fear: Love is stronger.
It is God’s answer to despair: Hope is born.
It is God’s answer to our loneliness: Emmanuel—God with us.
So today, do not rush past the manger. Linger there. Bring what is heavy. Bring what is joyful. Bring what is unfinished. Let the Child look at you with love. Let Him be born again—not only in the world, but in your heart, your home, your relationships, your choices.
If Christ can be born in a stable, He can be born anywhere—even in us.
May the peace of the newborn Savior rest upon you.
May His light guide you through every darkness.
And may the joy of Christmas not end today, but live on in how we love, forgive, and hope.
Merry Christmas.
