predication.net

In December 1992, an Italian missionary arrived in Singapore. On his way to his mission in the evening by taxi, he saw Christmas lights everywhere, with symbols of the Christian Christmas holiday. He told the taxi driver, “I have never seen anything like it.” Encouraged by this confession, the man remarked, “For us in Singapore, Christmas is the most important holiday of the year.” “But what are you celebrating?” asked the missionary, wanting to get to know the driver’s thoughts. But the man did not answer. Even in Christian countries, where Christmas is celebrated as the Nativity of the Lord, some people do not know the answer to this question or the meaning of Christmas. That is why the Church says, on the eighth day after Christmas, the following sentence of John the Baptist: “Among you stands one whom you do not know.”

What does it mean to “know Jesus”? In all ancient and modern languages, including biblical Hebrew and Greek, the verb “to know” has a wide range of meanings. It can mean visual knowledge of a person, knowledge of everything or almost everything related to him, and sharing life, feelings, joys, and suffering. For us to know Jesus, human knowledge and experience are not enough. Such knowledge is why the evangelists speak of angels who announced the mysterious birth, and—as we will read in tomorrow’s Gospel—the heavens will be opened, from which the Holy Spirit will descend, confirming Jesus’ divine nature. Even if a person possessed all the knowledge found in the Gospels and other Scriptures about Jesus, they would still lack the gift of faith. Jesus will remain unknown.

In June 1994, the police found Brother Ettore, a Camillian who lived for and with the poor, during a check near the central station in Milan, where drug addicts and prostitutes meet. The policeman asked for his documents, checked them, and said, “Brother, you cannot stay here. What kind of religion is he to be here at this hour?” Someone shouted, “Leave him alone; he is Brother Ettore.” He said with a smile, “Mr. Policeman. Our Lady fulfilled her duties, but allow me to fulfill mine too.” The policeman objected, “What is duty? Please leave!” Although this episode did not occur on Christmas Eve, it convincingly shows that, for many Christians today, Christ remains someone and something unknown.

At the beginning of the new year that the Lord grants to our lives, it is beneficial to raise the gaze of our hearts to Mary. For she, as a mother, sends us back into our relationship with her Son: she brings us back to Jesus, she speaks to us about Jesus, and she leads us to Jesus. The Solemnity of the Most Holy Mother of God thus immerses us once again in the mystery of Christmas: God became one of us in Mary’s womb, and we, who have opened the Holy Door to begin the Jubilee, recall today that “Mary is therefore the door through which Christ entered this world” (St. Ambrose, Epistle 42, 4: PL, VII).

 The Apostle Paul summarizes this mystery by stating that “God sent his Son, born of a woman” (Gal 4:4). These words—”born of a woman”—resonate in our hearts today and remind us that Jesus, our Savior, became flesh and is revealed in the fragility of the flesh.

 He was born of a woman. This expression brings us back to Christmas above all: the Word became flesh. The Apostle Paul specifies that he was born of a woman, almost feeling the need to remind us that God truly became man through a human womb. There is a temptation that fascinates so many people today but which can also tempt many Christians: to imagine or manufacture an “abstract” God, linked to a vague religious idea, to some fleeting beautiful emotion. Instead, he is concrete; he is human: he was born of a woman, he has a face and a name, and he calls us to enter into a relationship with him. Jesus Christ, our Savior, was born of a woman; he has flesh and blood; he comes from the womb of the Father, but he was incarnated in the womb of the Virgin Mary; he went from the highest heaven, but he dwells in the depths of the earth; he is the Son of God, but he became the Son of man. He, the image of Almighty God, came in weakness, and though He was without blemish, “God made Him to be sin for us” (2 Cor. 5:21). He was born of a woman and is one of us. He is one of us. That is why He can save us.

 He was born of a woman. This expression also speaks to us of Christ’s humanity, to tell us that he reveals himself in the fragility of the flesh. If he descended into the womb of a woman and was born like all creatures, here he reveals himself in the fragility of a child. That is why the shepherds who went to see with their own eyes what the angel had announced to them did not observe extraordinary signs or magnificent manifestations, but “they found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger” (Lk 2:16). They found a helpless, fragile child who needed his mother’s care, needed swaddling clothes and milk, and needed caresses and love. Saint Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort says that divine Wisdom “did not want to give herself directly to men, even though she could have, but preferred to give herself through the Virgin Mary. Nor did she want to come into the world at the age of a perfect man, independent of others, but as a poor little child who required the care and nourishment of her mother” (Treatise on True Devotion to the Virgin Mary, 139). And so in the whole life of Jesus, we can see this choice of God, the choice of smallness and concealment; he never succumbs to the temptations of divine power to perform great signs and impose himself on others, as the devil suggested, but reveals God’s love in the beauty of his humanity, dwelling among us, sharing an ordinary life made up of work and dreams, showing compassion for the suffering of body and spirit, opening the eyes of the blind, and refreshing lost hearts. Compassion… The three attitudes of God are mercy, closeness, and compassion. God becomes close, merciful, and compassionate. Let us not forget this. Jesus shows us God through his fragile humanity and his care for the delicate.

 Sisters and brothers, it is beautiful to think that Mary, the girl from Nazareth, always leads us back to the mystery of her Son, Jesus. She reminds us that Jesus comes in the flesh, and therefore the privileged place where we can encounter him is above all in our lives, in our fragile humanity, and in the humanity of those who pass us by every day. And by invoking her as the Mother of God, we affirm that Christ was begotten of the Father but truly born of the womb of a woman. We proclaim that He is the Lord; He is the Lord of time, but with His loving presence, He also inhabits this time of ours, even this new year. We admit that He is the world’s Savior, but we must seek Him in every person. And if he, who is the Son, made himself small to allow himself to be taken into the arms of his mother, to be cared for and nurtured by her, then this means that even today he comes in all those who need the same care: in every sister and brother we meet, who needs attention, listening, and kindness.

 This new year that is opening, let us entrust to Mary, Mother of God, that we too may learn, like her, to find God’s greatness in the smallness of life; that we may learn to care for every creature born of woman and, above all, to protect the precious gift that is life, as Mary does: life in the womb, the life of children, the life of the suffering, the life of the poor, the life of the elderly, the lonely, and the dying. And today, on the World Day of Peace, it is precisely this invitation that flows from Mary’s maternal heart to which we are all called: we are called to care for life, to care for wounded life—so many wounded lives, so many—to restore the dignity of the life of every “born of woman”; it is the fundamental starting point for building a civilization of peace. Therefore, “I ask for a firm commitment to promote respect for the dignity of human life from conception to natural death, so that every person can love his or her life and look to the future with hope” (Message for the LVIII World Day of Peace, 1 January 2025).

 Mary, Mother of God, and our mother await us right in the manger. She shows us, as she did to the shepherds, a God who always surprises us, who does not come in the splendor of heaven, but in the smallness of a manger. Let us entrust this new Jubilee Year to her, let us hand over to her our questions, our worries, our sufferings, our joys, and everything we carry in our hearts. She is a mother. Let us entrust the whole world to her so that hope may be reborn, so that peace may finally sprout for all the peoples of the earth.

History tells us that when the bishops entered the church in Ephesus, the faithful people, with staffs in their hands, cried out, “Mother of God!” Those sticks were surely a promise of what would happen if the “Mother of God” dogma were not proclaimed. Today, we do not have sticks, but we do have a child’s heart and a voice. Therefore, let us all together invoke the Holy Mother of God.

Another year is behind us with its three hundred and sixty-five days, with its work, and with its worries and joys. It is behind us, with its plans we could have implemented, as well as the less successful ones. The year has passed. But it is not erased. It has not been lost forever. That is why, at the end of the year, we look back, take stock, and conclude. Of course, these reflections extend beyond economics.

Everyone, although the end of the old and the beginning of the new year is associated more with external manifestations of joy and fun, should assess the previous period in the silence of their heart. Indeed, because good and evil endure past the stroke of midnight. He will accompany us as a guide to our future as well. An assessment before the “Lord of Time” can save us in the future.

We have lived this year, as in all others, immersed in its joys and miseries. We have heard and read a lot about the events of this year in recent days. Some things have interested us very much, others not. Naturally, everyone considers different values ​​to be significant and vital. 

Therefore, we reflect on what appears significant to us and what we believe is relevant to our lives. In the year that is ending, not so much the outstanding achievements and progress of our time have attracted interest, but rather concern and fear have appeared in people’s souls. The worries that weigh on the people of this earth are too significant. Concern for nutrition and health, for the climate and the protection of species, for peace, tranquility, social justice, and ensuring human dignity; concern for solidarity with the hungry and those who suffer injustice; concern for the consequences of biological and medical research and technical progress on the life of this earth. Politicians are paralyzing each other rather than reaching a consensus. And the moral reserves in our country?

When we reflect on this at the end of the year, we do so also with the intention of better recognizing the context of our lives, which cannot be separated and detached from the concerns of the world and the people of these times. It is not just a matter of wanting to change something around us, but, above all, a change primarily in us. God lends us a hand in this effort. Just a few days ago, we joyfully recalled his coming into this world as a man. This is not just the poetry of Christmas, but the reality of Christian everyday life… He gives us courage. We do not just have to complain, lament the misery of this world, or resign. “Behold, I am with you…”

“God carries the cosmos,” says Bishop Franz Kamphaus, and adds, “If we wanted to take the world into our own hands, we would be going terribly far. He carries the cosmos. If this is really the case, then we have free hands, feet, heads, and hearts to begin the reform of each of us: within ourselves, in the Church, and in society.” This courage comes from the trust that we are in God’s hands, that He is carrying us. With this trust, friends, let us enter the new year as new people.

  It is not enough to have a vocation in life. Its fulfillment is different for each person. And this daily discovery of our vocation leads us to deepen our love for those for whom we are responsible. Life events often make it challenging for us to find a new direction. After the death of her husband, Anna dedicated herself entirely to God in service in the temple. She could have married another man, but in her search, she heard God’s voice. She indeed sought her next mission in prayer and “counseling” with God.

The prophetess Anna had the gift of the Holy Spirit—the grace to recognize the Son of God present. In the temple environment, in prayer, in renunciation, she opened herself to an encounter with God, who embraced her with his care. In the Holy Spirit, she rejoiced in the salvation of Israel, which came in the newborn Jesus, whom Mary and Joseph brought to the temple to present, as was the Jewish custom for firstborn sons. Occasionally, we complain that God does not speak to us. Such complaints may not be due to some “godly season” of typical dryness in our spiritual life. Occasionally, it is our fault when we drown out the moments when God wants to speak to us. We prevent God from speaking through television, our interests, and the way we solve our problems.

Let us ask what our life paths should be in the vocation we live. Let us pray and listen attentively to discern what God wants from us today. Through regular prayer, we can receive the gift of constant prayer, in which we go through life with a continuous focus on our Lord—the Redeemer. Let us not neglect any prayer that we should pray today. Encouraged by the example of the prophetess Anna, let us devote at least five minutes today to meet Jesus Christ, the coming Messiah and Redeemer. It is He who wants to touch our lives in a healing way. In those five minutes, let us give Him ourselves, our lives, and all that we have. Lord Jesus, provide us with your Spirit, that we may discern what our calling is and how we are to fulfill it. 

CURRICULUM VITAE

He came from London. He studied theology, became archdeacon of Canterbury, and later served as the king’s chancellor and a close friend of the king. Later, as archbishop and primate of England, he defended the church’s freedom and rights, even against the king. Due to the resulting hostility, he lived in exile in France for 6 years. After a partial reconciliation, he returned and was murdered in his cathedral shortly before his 52nd birthday.

CV FOR MEDITATION

HE LAID HIS LIFE FOR THE LIFE OF THE CHURCH. HE ENCOURAGED

He was born in London towards the end of 1117 or in 1118, the son of Gilbert Becket. He studied theology in Paris and at the age of twenty-five became a deacon and assistant to Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury. His learning, wisdom, and polished eloquence led the archbishop to send him to study both church and secular law in Bologna, Italy. He completed his studies in Auxerre. In the meantime, he handled the embassy between the English archbishopric and the papal see.

From 1154, he was Archdeacon of Canterbury and Provost of Beverley, and in 1156, on Theobald’s recommendation, the young King Henry II appointed him his Chancellor. For Thomas, this meant, at least outwardly, a life of luxury, becoming the organizer of feasts and great hunts and various entertainments and expeditions in the company of the king. In his office, he defended the real and supposed rights of the crown with considerable zeal. He was a friend of the king, who also entrusted him with his son’s education. Thomas helped manage state affairs, tried to maintain unity and peace in the country, oversaw the observance of the laws, had robbers prosecuted, defended people experiencing poverty against oppressors, and promoted trade and the good name of England abroad.

In 1161, the Archbishop of Canterbury died, and Thomas was said to be on the battlefield with France at the time. King Henry II received the news in Normandy and decided to do everything he could to ensure that his chancellor took the vacant position. Thomas Becket did not like the king’s efforts, for he saw through his plans. He told him directly that, firstly, he was not a suitable man to be promoted to the Order of the Holy Monks, and secondly, their friendship and current trust would be turned into hostility by such a choice. He openly told the king that he saw the king’s interest in interfering in church affairs and that he, as archbishop, would not tolerate it.

The king nevertheless did not change his decision, and the Canterbury Chapter therefore elected Thomas as archbishop and primate. After accepting the election, Thomas Becket was ordained a priest, and on June 3, 1162, he was ordained a bishop. He took up his office with all responsibility and seriousness.

He was first and foremost a humble servant of God and tried to live an ascetic life, although he had to maintain a certain grandeur of office on the outside, and for some time, he was even chancellor. In the vast palace, however, he was content with one room, modestly furnished, wore a linen undergarment, and began the day very early with a long prayer service, after which he celebrated Holy Mass. As a primate, according to the old custom, he hosted nobles, dignitaries, and scholars, but he himself ate little and fasted often.

Thomas, when he was chancellor, defended the crown’s privileges against everyone. Still, as archbishop, he stood up for the rights of the church and against the king, demanding that the nobles return illegally held church property. He also demanded that clergy members be subject exclusively to the church court. King Henry II, seeing that he could no longer agree with Thomas, convened a parliament in Westminster in 1163 and asked the bishops there to commit themselves to preserving the old anti-church customs of the country. When he failed, he convened a parliament in Clarendon the following year. The king had 16 articles drawn up to limit papal authority in England severely. According to them, church authority would practically pass into the hands of the king. Disputes over spiritual benefits were to be resolved only by secular courts, bishops and abbots were to be elected only in the royal chapel, and bishops were not to leave the king’s realm without his permission.

Despite the threat of death, Thomas refused them. However, under pressure from the bishops, he ultimately forwarded them to the Pope. After the Pope’s refusal, he wanted to undergo a strict penance for having succumbed to the bishops’ pressure and asked the Pope for absolution. He accepted them with a firm determination to remain faithful to the Church.

When Thomas failed to appear in court due to illness, Henry II declared him a traitor and ordered the confiscation of all his property. Thomas did attend the subsequent trial in Northampton, but when the verdict of his guilt was to be read, he declared that he had forbidden the prosecution of spiritual shepherds and was appealing to the Pope. He quickly left the meeting place. On the night of October 14, 1164, he secretly left England. Disguised as a monk, he traveled across the sea and Flanders to Senes, France, where he met Pope Alexander. He appeared before Pope Alexander to request his resignation, citing the manner of his election as the reason. However, the Pope confirmed his election and asked him to remain in office.

Thomas remained in the Pontigny monastery for some time, but because of Henry’s threat to expel all Cistercian monks from his country if their monastery in France gave refuge to his archbishop, he left the monastery in 1166. He went to Sens, where he continued his exile as a monk of the monastery of St. Columba. He prayed for Henry and his archdiocese and lived a very ascetic life until about November 1170.

In June of that year, through the intervention of the Apostolic See, an inevitable reconciliation took place in France between Henry and Thomas, who was allowed to return to England. Cardinal Albert, however, warned Thomas not to trust the apparent reconciliation. Nevertheless, Thomas returned to Canterbury with enormous determination on 5 December 1170, even though he foresaw a violent death.

Previously, in agreement with the Pope, he had declared anathema against two bishops and suspended the Archbishop of York as a necessary restriction on their harmful influence. The messengers of the punished bishops warned Thomas, and when he did not revoke the punishment, the bishops complained to the king, who was staying in Normandy, that Thomas was behaving like a king and preparing war rather than peace. Such behavior greatly infuriated the king, who felt humiliated, and he asked that “there be no one who would avenge his shame on that impudent priest.”

The four nobles took these words as a challenge and hurriedly left for Canterbury. The king is said to have realized his haste afterwards, but the servants he had sent did not catch up with the knights. They first haughtily demanded that Thomas abolish the church’s punishments and, after his refusal, they left to form a band of armed men. Meanwhile, the archbishopric’s servants forced Thomas to go to the church. He defended himself by saying, “The church is not a fortress,” and he said that, if necessary, he would gladly lay down his life for the church. He did not even allow the church doors to be closed. While he was praying on the steps of the altar of St. Benedict, armed conspirators burst into the church and shouted, “Where is the traitor?” Only after one of them used the word “archbishop” did Thomas rise, turn to them, and say in a calm voice, “I am an archbishop, but not a traitor. If you are looking for me, you have found me. For God and for the Church I am willing to shed blood, but in the name of the Lord I forbid you to harm my people.” One conspirator then announced to him that he would die because the punishments were not abolished, and Thomas replied that he was ready to use his blood to secure freedom and peace for the Church. He received four slashing wounds, the last of which shattered his skull in front of the altar. It was December 29, 1170.

The king was horrified by the news and expressed regret for having given rise to such a crime. To avoid ecclesiastical punishment, he sent messengers to the Pope, tasked with interpreting his promises. Henry II. personally reconciled himself with the Church and, in the presence of his son, the Pope’s envoys, the bishops and abbots of the country, swore that he had not ordered the murder of Thomas and made a declaration regarding his willingness to make satisfaction for giving the cause of this crime. At the same time, he swore to be obedient to the Pope and his successors, that he would allow appeals to Rome, that he would grant pardon to the followers of the murdered man, that he would return the Church’s property, and that he would abolish the articles that had been the cause of the dispute and introduced to the detriment of the Church. He also declared that he would take part in the Crusade and support the Templars. He recognized England as a papal fief and received absolution at the doors of the church.

It was a victory achieved through the martyrdom of Thomas Becket, whom the Pope had already canonized on February 21, 1173.

Henry VIII’s reign saw attacks on everything associated with Thomas Becket. In 1538, Henry VIII destroyed the rich reliquary containing his remains, ordered the murals depicting his figure to be painted over, and forbade his mention in the Church of England. Despite this, Thomas’s memory spread to many countries. Charles IV had part of his remains interred in the Prague Cathedral as early as 1377.

RESOLUTION, PRAYER

I will consider the Church of Christ’s and the world’s ongoing conflict and the Gospel’s truth: “No one can serve two masters…” (Mt 6:24). Even if a person gains the whole world, it will profit him nothing if he loses his life. But whoever loses his life for Jesus and the Gospel will save it. (cf. Mt 16:26; Mk 8:36; Lk 9:25)

God, you gave Saint Thomas the courage to sacrifice his life for the Church’s justice and freedom; through his intercession, strengthen us to die for Christ’s love and not lose eternal life. We ask this through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. 

Two days after the feast of the Nativity of the Lord, we celebrate the feast of the Apostle John the Evangelist—the disciple whom Jesus loved. What do we know about the life of the Beloved of the Lord? – John came from the settlement of Bethsaida on the northeastern shore of the Lake of Galilee. His father was called Zebedee, and his mother was Salome. He was a fisherman by profession. Before Jesus called him, he was a disciple of St. John the Baptist. Among the apostles, he had an essential place in the early church in Jerusalem. After leaving Jerusalem in the year 50, he worked in Asia Minor, especially in the large and important city of Ephesus. Under Emperor Domitian, around the year 90, he was exiled to the island of Patmos in the Aegean Sea for his faith in Christ. We have five writings from him: a gospel, three letters, and the Apocalypse. He died around the year 100 in Ephesus. How beautiful it would be if, at the hour of our death, we heard from the lips of Christ the Lord himself the words, “Most Holy Mother—behold, this is your son; this is your daughter! My son, my daughter—look, here is your Mother Mary, who has taken you under her protection! I cannot reject you, because for whom the Virgin Mary intercedes, salvation is assured!”

The holy Apostle John, a disciple of Christ the Lord, heard these words under the Cross when the Savior was dying. According to holy tradition, the Blessed Virgin did not want to move far from Calvary. She remained in Jerusalem, and Saint John took care of her. Mary was entrusted to him at the most sacred moment before the death of her divine Son. And Saint John certainly deserved it. He alone of the apostles persevered with his master and Lord even at the moment of his greatest humiliation. He was able to face all those who killed his teacher and lord. And he did not doubt Christ the Lord even when he saw Him hanging on the cross, that Christ the Lord is the true God! The Apostle John is above all, the apostle of the divinity of Jesus Christ. Artists have somewhat distorted the image of the Lord’s beloved. In icons, Saint John is depicted as a gentle, sensitive young man with an almost girlish appearance. However, John’s spirituality was firm and even hard; his faith withstood all thunder and lightning. After all, John was a fisherman like his brother James. He knew well what it was to struggle with a stormy sea. He knew well what the struggle of life was! He remembered very well the first words that the Lord Jesus said to him and Andrew: “Come, follow me and see!”

And John truly went and saw. He saw clearly that their Master and lord led a hard, ascetic life. He saw that Jesus had no roof over his head. He saw that Christ the Lord was content with whatever anyone gave him. He saw the Lord Jesus working during the day and praying at night. Furthermore, he saw how Jesus distributed love and reaped hatred that would drive him to the cross. Like the other disciples, the apostle John had difficulty understanding that Jesus was not building a kingdom of earthly power, but a kingdom of love and peace. If he had understood it right away, he would certainly not have asked the Lord for the first “ministerial chairs” together with his brother James and his mother. However, when Jesus asked if he could also drink the cup of his suffering with him, John confessed without hesitation, “Yes, I can drink your cup!” So ​​Saint John was no dreamer, no soft-hearted person. And yet he was the disciple whom Jesus loved. At the Last Supper, he rested on the breast of Christ, on the heart of his Master and Lord. It was the Beloved of the Lord who penetrated most deeply into the mystery of Christ’s love. In the communion of the Virgin Mary, he was even more perfected in the spirit of her divine Son. From the Blessed Virgin, Saint John learned to penetrate ever more deeply into the mystery of faith and love. 

And the apostle John penetrated the mystery of faith, saying that Jesus Christ is the only-begotten Son of God. And he penetrated the mystery of love, which we are to show by keeping God’s commandments. Saint John begins his joyful proclamation with a magnificent vision of the Eternal Word: “En arché én ho Logos, kai ho Logos én prós ton Theon, kai Theos én ho Logos.” – which is translated: “IN THE BEGINNING WAS THE WORD, AND THE WORD WAS WITH GOD, AND THE WORD WAS GOD!” And when Saint John begins to write his letters, he presents Christ the Lord to us as the Word of life, who was from the beginning, whom he saw, whom he touched, and even on whose divine Heart he rested. But the most beautiful thing is when Saint John proclaims the love of Jesus: “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him. Let us love one another, for love is from God. He who does not love does not know God!” And the Beloved of the Lord engraves a harsh truth into our hearts: “God exists; you have seen him, and others have seen him.” When we love one another, God is in us! You see your brother, so love him! He who does not love his brother whom he sees, how can he love God whom he has not seen?” – Yes, this is how the disciples—sons—apostles mature in the proximity of the Virgin Mary! The Blessed Virgin teaches them true faith and love, which embraces God with one arm and their brothers and sisters with the other.

When Saint John left Jerusalem, he lived in Asia Minor in Ephesus. He had to suffer a lot for the name of Jesus. But the Lord gave him the promise that he would die a natural death. Therefore, scourging, boiling oil, and exile caused him suffering, but not death. Saint John was the last of the apostles to leave this world. At the end of his life, he only wanted to repeat the same refrain over and over again: “My little children, love one another!” When the faithful asked him why he kept repeating it, he answered them, “Because it is the commandment of Christ the Lord!” Let us ask the Lord to give us, like his beloved Saint John, and entrust us to his Mother Mary. Lord, we beg you, grant that your most holy Mother Mary may also be our Mother. We will strive to be faithful children of God and of the Virgin Mary. And then we can firmly believe and never doubt that at the hour of our death, Christ the Lord will embrace us to His Most Sacred Heart! Saint John, Beloved of the Lord, pray for us! Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners—now and at the hour of our death.

Last night, when we gathered in this sacred place, we spoke of the great love of God for us, of the greatness of man, as Christmas and the nativity scene so eloquently speak of. But we only briefly hinted that the love of God and our greatness, which God has shown us, also require our great responsibility. Is the world around us interested in such a great reality?

Several years ago, a young man from a Catholic family came to Paris. He graduated with distinction from the gymnasium and is now entering the École Normale, one of those higher Parisian schools where the best of French youth gather. He is filled with enthusiasm for his faith. He is equipped with the answers to all the questions and problems that could challenge his faith from any angle. He knows that there is not a single one that he has not studied, thought through, and lived. He is confident of his victory and is looking forward to bringing happiness to his colleagues as well. But instead of success, he faces sad disappointment. Something unexpected happened. No one objects to his faith. No one objects to the fact that he – the now famous philosopher Maurice Blondel (1861-1949) – needs to have a religion. They are satisfied with a different life purpose: the ideal of the nation, art, politics, sports, science, social activity, pleasure, … And the meaning of life? They are not interested in it. It does not bother anyone if another person has a faith if he wants to, but let him not disturb others with such things. Blondel is devastated. So people know how to live without having to think about their own meaning of life. About the primary meaning of life!

That was years ago. However, our country is facing similar challenges today. In our nation, the situation is even more difficult. So many around us are full of other interests. Yes, there are different times and different states of people; one can have different interests. And it is not necessary to have them all. Do you think, dear parishioners, that it is not required to be interested in Christ? If only we did not have to meet him at least once! If only it were possible to avoid it! But Christ is the critical point of every person. Of every person! He represents a crisis for every nation and every era, because “He is destined for the fall and the rising of many.”

The relationship to his person at this time, in this earthly life, determines the whole of eternity, into which everyone will enter one day. Jesus is the destiny of the world. Whether one believes in him or not, whether one heeds him or not. If a person or a nation accepts Jesus and his words, they will live. A person will live eternally and happily, and a nation will live in safety and peace. If a person does not accept Jesus, they will perish. If a nation does not accept Jesus and his principles, they will disrupt their order and security. I am not saying this in vain; the past teaches this, and the present proves it! Without exception! In our country and in the whole world, without Christ and his principles. The Ten Commandments, the family, society, and the individual fall apart; everything goes astray, and man is afraid of man…! All this in connection with Christmas—that it does not fulfill the content of the angelic song at the birth of Jesus: Glory to God—peace to the people!

Sisters and brothers. As we are here, we are certainly all interested in divine things, in Jesus in Bethlehem, and in his gospel, the good news for the world. But those who do not have that interest – and there are many in our family—should at least pause at the appearance of Jesus in the poor manger and at least ask themselves carefully, “Who is this?