Benedict XVI Christmas 2008
Pope's Christmas Eve Homily
"God Dwells on High, Yet He Stoops Down to Us!"
VATICAN CITY, DEC. 25, 2008 - Here is a Vatican translation of
the homily Benedict XVI gave at Christmas Eve Mass at the Vatican.
* * *
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
"Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high, who looks
far down upon the heavens and the earth?" This is what Israel sings in one
of the Psalms (113 , 5ff.), praising God's grandeur as well as his
loving closeness to humanity. God dwells on high, yet he stoops down to us!
God is infinitely great, and far, far above us. This is our first experience
of him. The distance seems infinite. The Creator of the universe, the one
who guides all things, is very far from us: or so he seems at the beginning.
But then comes the surprising realization: The One who has no equal, who "is
seated on high", looks down upon us. He stoops down. He sees us, and he sees
me. God's looking down is much more than simply seeing from above. God's
looking is active. The fact that he sees me, that he looks at me, transforms
me and the world around me. The Psalm tells us this in the following verse:
"He raises the poor from the dust." In looking down, he raises me up, he
takes me gently by the hand and helps me to rise from depths towards the
heights. "God stoops down". This is a prophetic word. That night in
Bethlehem, it took on a completely new meaning. God's stooping down became
real in a way previously inconceivable. He stoops down: he himself comes
down as a child to the lowly stable, the symbol of all humanity's neediness
and forsakenness. God truly comes down. He becomes a child and puts himself
in the state of complete dependence typical of a newborn child. The Creator
who holds all things in his hands, on whom we all depend, makes himself
small and in need of human love. God is in the stable. In the Old Testament
the Temple was considered almost as God's footstool; the sacred ark was the
place in which he was mysteriously present in the midst of men and women.
Above the temple, hidden, stood the cloud of God's glory. Now it stands
above the stable. God is in the cloud of the poverty of a homeless child: an
impenetrable cloud, and yet a cloud of glory!
How, indeed, could his love for humanity, his solicitude for
us, have appeared greater and more pure? The cloud of hiddenness, the cloud
of the poverty of a child totally in need of love, is at the same time the
cloud of glory. For nothing can be more sublime, nothing greater than the
love which thus stoops down, descends, becomes dependent. The glory of the
true God becomes visible when the eyes of our hearts are opened before the
stable of Bethlehem.
Saint Luke's account of the Christmas story, which we have just
heard in the Gospel, tells us that God first raised the veil of his
hiddenness to people of very lowly status, people who were looked down upon
by society at large: to shepherds looking after their flocks in the fields
around Bethlehem. Luke tells us that they were "keeping watch". This phrase
reminds us of a central theme of Jesus's message, which insistently bids us
to keep watch, even to the Agony in the Garden: the command to stay awake,
to recognize the Lord's coming, and to be prepared. Here too the expression
seems to imply more than simply being physically awake during the night
hour. The shepherds were truly "watchful" people, with a lively sense of God
and of his closeness. They were waiting for God, and were not resigned to
his apparent remoteness from their everyday lives. To a watchful heart, the
news of great joy can be proclaimed: for you this night the Saviour is born.
Only a watchful heart is able to believe the message. Only a watchful heart
can instil the courage to set out to find God in the form of a baby in a
stable. Let us ask the Lord to help us, too, to become a "watchful" people.
Saint Luke tells us, moreover, that the shepherds themselves
were "surrounded" by the glory of God, by the cloud of light. They found
themselves caught up in the glory that shone around them. Enveloped by the
holy cloud, they heard the angels' song of praise: "Glory to God in the
highest heavens and peace on earth to people of his good will". And who are
these people of his good will if not the poor, the watchful, the expectant,
those who hope in God's goodness and seek him, looking to him from afar?
The Fathers of the Church offer a remarkable commentary on the
song that the angels sang to greet the Redeemer. Until that moment -- the
Fathers say -- the angels had known God in the grandeur of the universe, in
the reason and the beauty of the cosmos that come from him and are a
reflection of him. They had heard, so to speak, creation's silent song of
praise and had transformed it into celestial music. But now something new
had happened, something that astounded them. The One of whom the universe
speaks, the God who sustains all things and bears them in his hands: he
himself had entered into human history, he had become someone who acts and
suffers within history. From the joyful amazement that this unimaginable
event called forth, from God's new and further way of making himself known
-- say the Fathers -- a new song was born, one verse of which the Christmas
Gospel has preserved for us: "Glory to God in the highest heavens and peace
to his people on earth". We might say that, following the structure of
Hebrew poetry, the two halves of this double verse say essentially the same
thing, but from a different perspective. God's glory is in the highest
heavens, but his high state is now found in the stable: what was lowly has
now become sublime. God's glory is on the earth, it is the glory of humility
and love. And even more: the glory of God is peace. Wherever he is, there is
peace. He is present wherever human beings do not attempt, apart from him,
and even violently, to turn earth into heaven. He is with those of watchful
hearts; with the humble and those who meet him at the level of his own
"height", the height of humility and love. To these people he gives his
peace, so that through them, peace can enter this world.
The medieval theologian William of Saint Thierry once said that
God -- from the time of Adam -- saw that his grandeur provoked resistance in
man, that we felt limited in our own being and threatened in our freedom.
Therefore God chose a new way. He became a child. He made himself dependent
and weak, in need of our love. Now, this God who has become a child says to
us: you can no longer fear me, you can only love me.
With these thoughts, we draw near this night to the child of
Bethlehem -- to the God who for our sake chose to become a child. In every
child we see something of the Child of Bethlehem. Every child asks for our
love. This night, then, let us think especially of those children who are
denied the love of their parents. Let us think of those street children who
do not have the blessing of a family home, of those children who are
brutally exploited as soldiers and made instruments of violence, instead of
messengers of reconciliation and peace. Let us think of those children who
are victims of the industry of pornography and every other appalling form of
abuse, and thus are traumatized in the depths of their soul. The Child of
Bethlehem summons us once again to do everything in our power to put an end
to the suffering of these children; to do everything possible to make the
light of Bethlehem touch the heart of every man and woman. Only through the
conversion of hearts, only through a change in the depths of our hearts can
the cause of all this evil be overcome, only thus can the power of the evil
one be defeated. Only if people change will the world change; and in order
to change, people need the light that comes from God, the light which so
unexpectedly entered into our night.
And speaking of the Child of Bethlehem, let us think also of
the place named Bethlehem, of the land in which Jesus lived, and which he
loved so deeply. And let us pray that peace will be established there, that
hatred and violence will cease. Let us pray for mutual understanding, that
hearts will be opened, so that borders can be opened. Let us pray that peace
will descend there, the peace of which the angels sang that night.
In Psalm 96 , Israel, and the Church, praises God's
grandeur manifested in creation. All creatures are called to join in this
song of praise, and so the Psalm also contains the invitation: "Let all the
trees of the wood sing for joy before the Lord, for he comes" (v. 12ff.).
The Church reads this Psalm as a prophecy and also as a task. The coming of
God to Bethlehem took place in silence. Only the shepherds keeping watch
were, for a moment, surrounded by the light-filled radiance of his presence
and could listen to something of that new song, born of the wonder and joy
of the angels at God's coming. This silent coming of God's glory continues
throughout the centuries. Wherever there is faith, wherever his word is
proclaimed and heard, there God gathers people together and gives himself to
them in his Body; he makes them his Body. God "comes". And in this way our
hearts are awakened. The new song of the angels becomes the song of all
those who, throughout the centuries, sing ever anew of God's coming as a
child -- and rejoice deep in their hearts. And the trees of the wood go out
to him and exult. The tree in Saint Peter's Square speaks of him, it wants
to reflect his splendour and to say: Yes, he has come, and the trees of the
wood acclaim him. The trees in the cities and in our homes should be
something more than a festive custom: they point to the One who is the
reason for our joy -- the God who for our sake became a child. In the end,
this song of praise, at the deepest level, speaks of him who is the very
tree of new-found life. Through faith in him we receive life. In the
Sacrament of the Eucharist he gives himself to us; he gives us a life that
reaches into eternity. At this hour we join in creation's song of praise,
and our praise is at the same time a prayer: Yes, Lord, help us to see
something of the splendour of your glory. And grant peace on earth. Make us
men and women of your peace. Amen.
© Copyright 2008 -- Libreria Editrice Vaticana
Benedict XVI's Christmas Message
"I Once More Joyfully Proclaim Christ's Birth"
VATICAN CITY, DEC. 25, 2008 - Here is a Vatican translation of
Benedict XVI's Christmas message, which he delivered from the main balcony
of St. Peter's Basilica today at noon.
* * *
"The grace of God our Saviour has appeared to all" (Tit 2:11,
Dear brothers and sisters, in the words of the Apostle Paul, I
once more joyfully proclaim Christ's Birth. Today "the grace of God our
Saviour" has truly "appeared to all"!
It appeared! This is what the Church celebrates today. The
grace of God, rich in goodness and love, is no longer hidden. It "appeared",
it was manifested in the flesh, it showed its face. Where? In Bethlehem.
When? Under Caesar Augustus, during the first census, which the Evangelist
Luke also mentions. And who is the One who reveals it? A newborn Child, the
Son of the Virgin Mary. In him the grace of God our Saviour has appeared.
And so that Child is called Jehoshua, Jesus, which means: "God saves".
The grace of God has appeared. That is why Christmas is a feast
of light. Not like the full daylight which illumines everything, but a
glimmer beginning in the night and spreading out from a precise point in the
universe: from the stable of Bethlehem, where the divine Child was born.
Indeed, he is the light itself, which begins to radiate, as portrayed in so
many paintings of the Nativity. He is the light whose appearance breaks
through the gloom, dispels the darkness and enables us to understand the
meaning and the value of our own lives and of all history. Every Christmas
crib is a simple yet eloquent invitation to open our hearts and minds to the
mystery of life. It is an encounter with the immortal Life which became
mortal in the mystic scene of the Nativity: a scene which we can admire here
too, in this Square, as in countless churches and chapels throughout the
world, and in every house where the name of Jesus is adored.
The grace of God has appeared to all. Jesus – the face of the
"God who saves", did not show himself only for a certain few, but for
everyone. Although it is true that in the simple and lowly dwelling of
Bethlehem few persons encountered him, still he came for all: Jews and
Gentiles, rich and poor, those near and those far away, believers and
non-believers… for everyone. Supernatural grace, by God's will, is meant for
every creature. Yet each human person needs to accept that grace, to utter
his or her own "yes", like Mary, so that his or her heart can be illumined
by a ray of that divine light. It was Mary and Joseph, who that night
welcomed the incarnate Word, awaiting it with love, along with the shepherds
who kept watch over their flocks (cf. Lk 2:1-20). A small community, in
other words, which made haste to adore the Child Jesus; a tiny community
which represents the Church and all people of good will. Today too those who
await him, who seek him in their lives, encounter the God who out of love
became our brother – all those who turn their hearts to him, who yearn to
see his face and to contribute to the coming of his Kingdom. Jesus himself
would say this in his preaching: these are the poor in spirit; those who
mourn, the meek, those who thirst for justice; the merciful, the pure of
heart, the peacemakers, and those persecuted for righteousness' sake (cf. Mt
5:3-10). They are the ones who see in Jesus the face of God and then set out
again, like the shepherds of Bethlehem, renewed in heart by the joy of his
Brothers and sisters, all you who are listening to my words:
this proclamation of hope – the heart of the Christmas message – is meant
for all men and women. Jesus was born for everyone, and just as Mary, in
Bethlehem, offered him to the shepherds, so on this day the Church presents
him to all humanity, so that each person and every human situation may come
to know the power of God's saving grace, which alone can transform evil into
good, which alone can change human hearts, making them oases of peace.
May the many people who continue to dwell in darkness and the
shadow of death (cf. Lk 1:79) come to know the power of God's saving grace!
May the divine Light of Bethlehem radiate throughout the Holy Land, where
the horizon seems once again bleak for Israelis and Palestinians. May it
spread throughout Lebanon, Iraq and the whole Middle East. May it bring
forth rich fruit from the efforts of all those who, rather than resigning
themselves to the twisted logic of conflict and violence, prefer instead the
path of dialogue and negotiation as the means of resolving tensions within
each country and finding just and lasting solutions to the conflicts
troubling the region. This light, which brings transformation and renewal,
is besought by the people of Zimbabwe, in Africa, trapped for all too long
in a political and social crisis which, sadly, keeps worsening, as well as
the men and women of the Democratic Republic of Congo, especially in the
war-torn region of Kivu, Darfur, in Sudan, and Somalia, whose interminable
sufferings are the tragic consequence of the lack of stability and peace.
This light is awaited especially by the children living in those countries,
and the children of all countries experiencing troubles, so that their
future can once more be filled with hope.
Wherever the dignity and rights of the human person are
trampled upon; wherever the selfishness of individuals and groups prevails
over the common good; wherever fratricidal hatred and the exploitation of
man by man risk being taken for granted; wherever internecine conflicts
divide ethnic and social groups and disrupt peaceful coexistence; wherever
terrorism continues to strike; wherever the basics needed for survival are
lacking; wherever an increasingly uncertain future is regarded with
apprehension, even in affluent nations: in each of these places may the
Light of Christmas shine forth and encourage all people to do their part in
a spirit of authentic solidarity. If people look only to their own
interests, our world will certainly fall apart.
Dear brothers and sisters, today, "the grace of God our Saviour
has appeared" (cf. Tit 2:11) in this world of ours, with all its potential
and its frailty, its advances and crises, its hopes and travails. Today,
there shines forth the light of Jesus Christ, the Son of the Most High and
the son of the Virgin Mary: "God from God, light from light, true God from
true God. For us men, and for our salvation, he came down from heaven". Let
us adore him, this very day, in every corner of the world, wrapped in
swaddling clothes and laid in a lowly manger. Let us adore him in silence,
while he, still a mere infant, seems to comfort us by saying: Do not be
afraid, "I am God, and there is no other" (Is 45:22). Come to me, men and
women, peoples and nations, come to me. Do not be afraid: I have come to
bring you the love of the Father, and to show you the way of peace.
Let us go, then, brothers and sisters! Let us make haste, like
the shepherds on that Bethlehem night. God has come to meet us; he has shown
us his face, full of grace and mercy! May his coming to us not be in vain!
Let us seek Jesus, let us be drawn to his light which dispels sadness and
fear from every human heart. Let us draw near to him with confidence, and
bow down in humility to adore him. Merry Christmas to all!