Christmas Day (2025 Ed.)

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins, and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In those days "a decree went out from the—from Caesar Augustus, that the whole world should be enrolled" (Luke 2:1). We can now see clearly that the decree of the Roman Empire—Emperor—was part of God's providence. You could say that in some ways it was an injustice for Joseph and Mary to have to go to Bethlehem. They really didn't need to enroll. They could count themselves exempt. But yet that was part of God's plan. And so it could be called a providential injustice. St. Josemaría liked to put that adjective before the word injustice. It helps us to sanctify that reality.

And so that decree is the reason why Our Lady and St. Joseph went to Bethlehem, and Jesus was going to be born there, as had been prophesied many centuries before. Our Lady knew that Our Lord's birth was imminent, and she set out on that journey with her thoughts centered on the child who was to be born in the town of David. And so they came to Bethlehem, both with the joy of having reached the place of their ancestors, and with the tiredness caused by traveling along badly made roads for four or five days. The journey to Bethlehem may be very beautiful when we look in on the cribs, but the reality is that it was a challenging journey.

In her condition, Our Lady must have been very tired when she arrived. And then in Bethlehem, they could not find anywhere to stay. Another providential injustice. "There was no place for them in the inn" (Luke 2:7), St. Luke says. Possibly Joseph judged that the crowded inn was not a suitable place for Our Lady, especially in those circumstances, and he must have knocked on many doors before taking Our Lady to a stable on the outskirts of the town.

So we could imagine the scene. St. Josemaría invites us to enter into the scenes of the Gospel, place ourselves in those situations. And that itself is prayer. Joseph, possibly explained time and again with growing anxiety the same story, that they come from afar away. At each one of the places on whose doors they knocked. And Our Lady a few feet away, seeing Joseph and hearing the refu—refusals. They did not let Christ in. They did not want to receive Christ. They shut the doors on him.

Our Lady must have felt sorry for St. Joseph and also for those people. How cold the world is towards its God. Today too, many people do not want to receive him. And so we could try to make up in our reception and affection for the Christ Child, for all those who do not want to receive him in their heart and in their soul. Pope Francis has commented on the spiritual emptiness of the world. Well, we have come to fill that emptiness.

Possibly it was Our Lady who suggested to St. Joseph that they could stay provisionally in one of those caves, which served as stables outside the town. She probably encouraged him, telling him not to worry, that they would manage. And Joseph would have felt comforted by Our Lady's words and by her smile. And so they made their lodging there with the few belongings they had been able to bring from Nazareth, the swaddling clothes, some items that she herself had prepared with joy, that only mothers can experience when they prepare for their first child.

And it was there that the greatest event in humanity's history took place, with the utmost simplicity. And St. Luke tells us that while they were there, "the time came for her to be delivered" (Luke 2:6). And Mary lovingly "wrapped Jesus in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger" (Luke 2:7). Our Lady had a more perfect faith than any other before her or since. All her gestures were an expression of her faith and tenderness. She would have kissed his feet because he was her Lord, his cheek because he was her son. And she would have remained quietly contemplating him for a very long time.

These are very special moments in our prayer beside the crib tonight, or beside Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament as we remember these occasions and enter into the scenes and unite our heart to the heart of Mary and of Joseph in order to welcome the Christ Child. Later, Mary would have placed the child in Joseph's arms. Joseph well knows that this son of the Most High, whom he must care for and protect and teach a trade, is someone very special. Joseph's whole life becomes centered around this defenseless child.

And St. Josemaría, in Christ is Passing By (no 14), says, "Jesus, newly born, does not speak. But he is the Eternal Word of the Father." It has been said that the manger is a chair of learning. Today we should learn the lessons which Jesus teaches us, even when he's just a newly born child, from the very moment he opens his eyes on this blessed land of men.

There was a priest who was new to a parish in October or so, and he decided that in preparation for Christmas he would organize all the parishioners to have different jobs, different things. And there was a group of young children who were going to take part in a procession on Christmas night up the center aisle of the church, carrying the baby Jesus. And so he prepared them very well, so well that he taught them to walk very slowly, to be very focused, very concentrated. Very difficult thing to teach children to walk slowly. And so when Christmas night came, they walked with great solemnity up the center aisle, and Mary was carrying the child Jesus. But there was a step about halfway up the center aisle, and Mary—she was focusing so much and concentrating so much—that she missed the step. And she fell on all fours, and the baby Jesus went flying, and sustained a broken arm and many head injuries.

But however, St. Joseph and the others helped her to recuperate her lost dignity, and she continued on her journey. And then they came to the crib where the parish priest was waiting for them. But when they got there, the priest saw that his baby Jesus was in four separate pieces, and he was a bit put out. But the 10-year-old St. Joseph piped up and said, "Well, Father, you did say that this is the Year of the Handicapped." But the priest was not amused. But anyway, he took the pieces as best he could and he placed them in the crib with as much solemnity as he could, and they proceeded with the Mass.

After the Mass, he went to do some period of silent prayer in front of the crib. And he thought first to get some Elastoplast that he had in his washroom that he kept for when he cut himself shaving, and he stuck the baby Jesus back together again. And then he sat down to do some moments of quiet, contemplative prayer. And the thought struck him that this battered and bruised baby Jesus, stuck together with Elastoplast, looked a bit like him after he's cut himself shaving. And he found that in his prayer he sort of identified quite a bit with this battered and bruised baby Jesus, all the years of his life, all the experiences.

The following day, many families came to the parish, and afterwards they went to the crib. And there were some fathers there who were unemployed or who had a drink problem, and they also found that they could identify very much with this battered and bruised baby Jesus. And there were some teenagers there who were happy to see that Jesus was not in such good shape, and they felt a bit relieved because they didn't get A's in their exams, and some of them thought, "Well, Mother can't complain too much if the baby Jesus is like this." So they also identified a bit with the baby Jesus. There were 10 or 11-year-olds and they sort of had the same experience. And there were three-year-olds who came and saw this baby Jesus with all the Elastoplast, and they wondered if he might have a headache and perhaps he needed a Panadol.

And so little by little, this battered and bruised baby Jesus spoke to all the parishioners. It was a major success. And it was so successful that after the Christmas period, the priest wondered if he should just leave the baby Jesus in the crib there for the whole year because it seemed to have spoken to all the parishioners. And so what had seemed like a—like a catastrophe, in fact, became a blessing.

Jesus is born poor. He teaches us that "happiness is not to be found in an abundance of earthly goods" (cf. Luke 12:15). He comes into the world without any ostentation, encouraging us to be humble, not to depend on the applause of men. There's no credit card or VIP waiting lounge or express service. And so St. Josemaría says God humbled himself to allow us to get near him, so that we could give our love in exchange for his, so that our freedom might bow not at the sight of his power merely, but before the wonder of his humanity.

The word "wonder" is a word that's going to come in the liturgy quite frequently these days, especially in the Preface. We are all called to wonder before the Christ Child, before the crib. Little children know how to wonder.

And so we can also make a resolution to live the virtues of detachment and humility. We look at Our Lady and see her filled with joy. She knows that a new era has begun for the whole of humanity, that of the Messiah, her Son. And so we can ask her never to let us lose the joy of being beside Jesus. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were alone. But God sought out simple people as their companions. Some shepherds. Perhaps because as they were humble, they would not be dismayed at finding the Messiah in a stable, in a cave, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

And so it is to the shepherds of that district that the prophet Isaiah referred, those who dwelt, he says, "in a land of deep darkness; on them light has shone" (Isa. 9:2). On the first night—this first night, as is—in them alone that the prophecy is fulfilled. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, we're told in St. Luke, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them. And the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be to all the people" (Luke 2:10).

These words have a special relevance for us in our daily apostolate. We have good news of great joy, which is also meant to all the people. We can place before the Christ Child all our apostolic desires, all our projects, all our needs, the needs of the church. For to you, were told in St. Luke, "this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord, has been born" (Luke 2:11).

And so that night, they are the first and only people to learn the good news. Today millions of men and women throughout the world know of it, but not everybody. The light of that night in Bethlehem has reached many hearts. But at the same time, darkness remains. Sometimes it even seems more intense. The men of that night welcomed the news. They experienced great joy. The joy that comes forth from the light. The world's darkness is overcome by the light of the birth of God.

John Paul II says it does not matter that on this first night, the night of God's birth, the joy of that event should have reached only a few hearts. It doesn't matter. It's destined, he says, for every human heart. It is the joy of the whole human race, a superhuman joy. Could there be any greater joy than this? Any greater good news? Man has been accepted by God as to become his son in this Son of God who has been—become man.

God also wanted those shepherds to be the first bearers of the news. They would go around telling all that they had heard and seen—what they had heard and seen. St. Luke says, "And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them" (Luke 2:18). In the same way, Jesus reveals himself to us in the midst of the ordinary incidents of each day. And we need the same dispositions of simplicity and humility in order to reach him. It's possible that throughout our lives he gives us signs that mean nothing to us if we see him merely humanly. We have to be alert to discover Jesus in the simplicity of ordinary life, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger without any showy manifestations.

Everyone who sees Christ feels moved to make him known straight away. Cannot wait. One writer says naturally the shepherds would not have set out without taking gifts for the baby. In the Eastern world of those days, it was inconceivable that anyone should present themselves before a respected person without a gift. They would have taken what they had: a lamb, cheese, butter, milk, curd. Probably the whole scene is not far removed from what we see in—portrayed in countless cribs in our own days and on—in the Christmas carols which Christians sing with simplicity, and which many of us may have made the theme for prayer.

Our Lady and St. Joseph must have been surprised and delighted by the visit of the shepherds. They would have invited the shy shepherds to come in and see the Christ Child, to kiss him, to sing to him, and to leave their gifts beside the manger. Nor can we go to the cave of Bethlehem without taking our gift. Perhaps what Our Lady would thank us for is that our heart would be more devoted, more pure, more cheerful, because it's conscious of its divine filiation. A heart which we have made better disposed through a contrite confession, so that our Lord can live more fully in us. The confession that we make is perhaps one that for some time now God has been waiting for.

And so Mary and Joseph are inviting us to go in. And once inside we say to Jesus with the church, "King of the Universe, whom the shepherds found wrapped in swaddling clothes, help us always to imitate your poverty and your simplicity."

The Entrance Antiphon of Midnight Mass says, "Let us all rejoice in the Lord, for our Savior is born into the world. True peace has come down on us from heaven." "We have heard, my brethren," says St. Bernard, "the announcement full of sweetness and worthy of all acceptance, that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is born in Bethlehem of Judah." "My very soul," he says, "has melted at the sound of these words, and my spirit is burning in my bosom, eager with this constant ardor of desire to communicate to you its own joy and exultation."

And so we all need to set out to contemplate and adore the Christ Child, because we all need him. He's the only one we really need. There is no journey so great as that of seeking Christ. There is no journey so great as that of looking for Christ. These are words that are contained in a Spanish popular carol, saying that no path is worth following unless it leads to the baby Jesus.

And so today our Savior is born. There can be no room for sadness when Life has just been born. That life with the capital L, which overcomes all fear of death and fills us with the joy of the pledge of eternity. No one should feel excluded from sharing in that joy. And our reason for rejoicing is common to all. Because our Lord, destroyer of sin and death, not finding anyone free of sin, has come to free us all.

St. Leo the Great says, "Let the just man rejoice, as victory approaches. Let the Gentile rejoice, for he is called to life. For the Son, in the fullness of time, assumed our human nature in order to reconcile the human race with its Creator" (Sermon 23 - On the Feast of the Nativity). And so from here flows the joy of these days, like a river overflowing its banks. During these days of Christmas, we sing with exaltation because love will be among us till the end of time. The presence of the Child is love among men. The world is no longer a place of darkness. Those who seek for love know where to find it.

And so it's essentially love that each person needs, even those who claim to be already fully satisfied. And so these days, whenever we go to kiss an image of the child Jesus, or contemplate a crib, or meditate on this great mystery, we could thank God for having wanted to come down to us so that we could understand him and love him. And so we can make up our minds to become like little children so as to enter one day into the kingdom of heaven.

The opening prayer of today's Mass says, "Your Son, who was willing to share our manhood, grant us a share in his Godhead." The angels had also announced to the shepherds that there should be peace among all men of good will. The angels' song echoes throughout the world, stirring up in us a joyous hope. With the Holy Father, we can ask for all the places that need peace all over the world. Pope Leo particularly asking for this intention. Peace has drawn close to us and we can contemplate Peace in the face of the Child. St. Paul says, "Christ is our peace" (Eph. 2:14).

The world stands very much in need of peace. Our families, the place where we work, the environment around us. And so we need this child whom the angels announce as the Savior. Without him, every effort to bring peace to hearts will fall short. And for this reason, the church never ceases speaking about Jesus to mankind, like the shepherds after seeing him in the manger. We too want to make him known to others. And so in our apostolic work, it's Christ we should talk about, not about ourselves.

And so Lord, we ask you for the grace to meditate frequently on the great mystery of God's love in this child who was born to us. It's easy to find and regain peace and serenity as we contemplate the scene of the Nativity, letting ourselves be captivated by Jesus in the manger with Mary and Joseph on either side. As we contemplate this mystery of love, Our Lord will also give us new zest to pass it on to others.

And St. Paul to Titus, he says, "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light" (Isa. 9:2). A great light has blazed forth. And in the opening prayer of the Mass, it says, "Father, you make this holy night radiant with the splendor of Jesus Christ our light. We welcome him as Lord, the true light of the world." Our Lord has said to us also that "you are the light of the world" (Matt. 5:14). "The lamp is not hidden under a bushel but put on the lampstand" (Matt. 5:15).

And so Jesus gave us our description, our function. No other group has been given this responsibility to be the light of the world. Not the national media, not the movie producers, not the politicians. We, like the shepherds, are called to be the light of the world. For us to bring light into a dark world, we have to dwell in darkness. We might prefer to live and dwell in a world of light. One day we will. But for now, where to dwell in a dark world. It is in the darkness that we can do our best work. It's time that we allowed the light to shine. We could wait until the time is right, but that time will likely never come. We could wait until it's safe to be the light, but it will never be really safe. We can't wait. Now is the time to let our light shine.

Light is revealed in darkness. And we also have seen a great light. God has wanted to reveal himself in a way that everyone can understand. He becomes a small baby. He is the true light and his light can never be obscured. And so John Paul II in his letter on the Rosary, he says the whole mystery of Christ—of Christ is a mystery of light. He is the light of the world. He also told us that we have to "walk while we have the light" (John 12:35). "The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?" (Ps. 27:1). "God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, one in keeping with the Lord."

And so there's a light streaming from Bethlehem. A light by which people can see and by which they can go to heaven. And the church illumines the world with the light of Christ. We are called to reflect that light. And for that, we have to draw close to the source of the light. We reflect a light that is not ours. But if we spend time in prayer close to the Christ Child, well then we will reflect the light of Christ. And if we want to be close to Jesus, we also have to be concerned to be light for others. If we're truly friends of Our Lord, it will be noticed by those around us. We'll give off light. The apostles enlightened the world with the Gospel.

And so Mary, may you take us by the hand and lead us into the intimacy of Bethlehem. Help us to absorb all the great messages that are there so that we can truly bring this good news to many people who are hopeful and waiting for it.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

EW