Pope Francis’ Midnight Mass Christmas Homily

Pope Francis holds the baby Jesus statue at the end of the Christmas night mass in the Saint Peter's Basilica at the Vatican
THE NATIVITY OF THE LORD: MASS IN THE HOLY NIGHT
HOMILY OF POPE FRANCIS
ST PETER’S BASILICA
24 DECEMBER 2014

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined” (Is 9:1). “An angel of the Lord appeared to [the shepherds] and the glory of the Lord shone around them” (Lk 2:9). This is how the liturgy of this holy Christmas night presents to us the birth of the Saviour: as the light which pierces and dispels the deepest darkness. The presence of the Lord in the midst of his people cancels the sorrow of defeat and the misery of slavery, and ushers in joy and happiness.

We too, in this blessed night, have come to the house of God. We have passed through the darkness which envelops the earth, guided by the flame of faith which illuminates our steps, and enlivened by the hope of finding the “great light”. By opening our hearts, we also can contemplate the miracle of that child-sun who, arising from on high, illuminates the horizon.

The origin of the darkness which envelops the world is lost in the night of the ages. Let us think back to that dark moment when the first crime of humanity was committed, when the hand of Cain, blinded by envy, killed his brother Abel (cf. Gen 4:8). As a result, the unfolding of the centuries has been marked by violence, wars, hatred and oppression. But God, who placed a sense of expectation within man made in his image and likeness, was waiting. He waited for so long that perhaps at a certain point it seemed he should have given up. But he could not give up because he could not deny himself (cf. 2 Tim 2:13). Therefore he continued to wait patiently in the face of the corruption of man and peoples.

Through the course of history, the light that shatters the darkness reveals to us that God is Father and that his patient fidelity is stronger than darkness and corruption. This is the message of Christmas night. God does not know outbursts of anger or impatience; he is always there, like the father in the parable of the prodigal son, waiting to catch from afar a glimpse of the lost son as he returns.

Isaiah’s prophecy announces the rising of a great light which breaks through the night. This light is born in Bethlehem and is welcomed by the loving arms of Mary, by the love of Joseph, by the wonder of the shepherds. When the angels announced the birth of the Redeemer to the shepherds, they did so with these words: “This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger” (Lk 2:12). The “sign” is the humility of God taken to the extreme; it is the love with which, that night, he assumed our frailty, our suffering, our anxieties, our desires and our limitations. The message that everyone was expecting, that everyone was searching for in the depths of their souls, was none other than the tenderness of God: God who looks upon us with eyes full of love, who accepts our poverty, God who is in love with our smallness.

On this holy night, while we contemplate the Infant Jesus just born and placed in the manger, we are invited to reflect. How do we welcome the tenderness of God? Do I allow myself to be taken up by God, to be embraced by him, or do I prevent him from drawing close? “But I am searching for the Lord” – we could respond. Nevertheless, what is most important is not seeking him, but rather allowing him to find me and caress me with tenderness. The question put to us simply by the Infant’s presence is: do I allow God to love me?

More so, do we have the courage to welcome with tenderness the difficulties and problems of those who are near to us, or do we prefer impersonal solutions, perhaps effective but devoid of the warmth of the Gospel? How much the world needs tenderness today!

The Christian response cannot be different from God’s response to our smallness. Life must be met with goodness, with meekness. When we realize that God is in love with our smallness, that he made himself small in order to better encounter us, we cannot help but open our hearts to him, and beseech him: “Lord, help me to be like you, give me the grace of tenderness in the most difficult circumstances of life, give me the grace of closeness in the face of every need, of meekness in every conflict”.

Dear brothers and sisters, on this holy night we contemplate the Nativity scene: there “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Is 9:1). People who were unassuming, open to receiving the gift of God, were the ones who saw this light. This light was not seen, however, by the arrogant, the proud, by those who made laws according to their own personal measures, who were closed off to others. Let us look to the crib and pray, asking the Blessed Mother: “O Mary, show us Jesus!”.

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My TV interview about Pope Francis’ message to the Curia

Cale Clarke on CTVCTV News interviewed me about Pope Francis’ Christmas message to the Roman Curia (essentially those Church officials responsible for the internal functioning of key Vatican departments). Since my entire live interview on CTV News Channel with Jennifer Ward was not posted online (a brief, out of context clip appeared on the nightly National News broadcast with Lisa LaFlamme), I’m going to summarize my key points below. There has been a great deal of interest surrounding what the Pontiff said, which many have interpreted as a “stinging rebuke” by the Holy Father, that was “received coldly” by his audience. Is that really the case?

I’m not so sure about that. For one thing, how many North American commentators who claim there was some sort of a bad reaction to the Pope’s words actually attended the speech in Rome? Just about none of ’em, that’s who. How would they know how people internally or externally reacted to the speech?

The truth is that many of those in that room, including many Cardinals who participated in the conclave that elected Francis, were likely in full agreement with him on many of these matters. Don’t forget, Curial reform was one of the things Pope Benedict began carrying out himself before his resignation – but he realized that his health situation wouldn’t be conducive to his finishing this particular job, and that much of this task would fall to his successor (who turned out to be Francis). In other words, many of these same Cardinal-electors elected Francis hoping he would do exactly this.

Here are a couple of other things I said about this speech:

1. Pope Francis is an “outsider” to the Curia. Pope Francis was formerly the Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina. He wasn’t really a well-connected “insider” in the Curia, which enables him to, I think, critique it more effectively and more objectively in order to help it improve. Cardinal Dolan of New York City said that, during the conclave, the Cardinal-electors constantly asked themselves the question, “Who among is is the most like Jesus Christ?” The answer that they came up with, of course, was Francis. Jesus was also an “outsider” to the religious authorities of Jerusalem, who critiqued them along many of the same lines as Francis’ speech to the curia did: many first-century Jerusalem clerics had become materialistic careerists with little concern for the spiritual welfare of those in their care, or for the poor.

2. What Francis said can be applied to virtually any workplace or family. This Pope is made for the age of Twitter. Among his 15 recommendations for curial reform were some memorable one-liners: Don’t be “existential schizophrenics” (don’t lead a double-life); watch out for “the terrorism of gossip” (where people’s reputations can be assassinated behind closed doors); the warning about the “disease of accumulation” (materialism); the disease of “spiritual Alzheimer’s” (forgetting one’s personal encounter with, and calling from the Lord; being a careerist). There is indeed much here for all of us to reflect on this Christmas.

 

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Exodus: Gods and Kings

Q. We’ve seen a spate of biblically themed movies in theatres lately: Son of God, Noah (starring Russell Crowe), and now Exodus: Gods and Kings (featuring Christian Bale of Batman fame). Why do you think this is?

A. Very often, movies are adapted from bestselling books. The Bible is the bestselling book of all time, so it only seems natural that biblical films would be made – there is always a high degree of interest. Of course, the reason that the Bible’s message is so perennially popular is that it reveals the truth to humanity – the truth about God, and about ourselves: why we are here, and what we were created for. Most people wander through their lives without any idea of their true purpose, or their need for salvation. Familiarity with the scriptures is a key to understanding life. It’s also essential for being an effective Catholic, for, as St Jerome once famously said, “Ignorance of scripture is ignorance of Christ”.

Q. The film Exodus: Gods and Kings is obviously about the biblical book of Exodus, and about Moses. Can you speak a bit about parallels between Moses and Christ?

A. Moses, although vitally important in his own right for God’s overall salvation plan, is also what scholars call  a “type” of Jesus Christ. What does this mean? God writes history (“His story”) the way human beings write with words. Just as a human writer can use a device like foreshadowing to tip off a reader about future events in his story, God uses actual people, places, and things in history to foreshadow greater people, places, and things to come later on in salvation history, especially at the time of Christ.

Q. What are some of the parallels between Jesus and Moses?

A. Despotic rulers attempted to murder both of them in their infancy (Pharaoh and Herod the Great, respectively). They both procured deliverance for their people: Moses delivered the Israelites from the tyranny of Pharaoh and slavery in Egypt, while Jesus delivered his followers from the slavery of sin, death and the despotic control of Satan. Jesus is the true Passover lamb, leading us out of spiritual bondage. And just as the Israelites had to eat the lamb of the Passover, we must consume the Eucharist. One of the plagues God sends on the Egyptians was turning the water of the Nile into blood. Jesus turns water into wine at Cana, and later, when instituting the Eucharist, turns wine into his Blood.

Just as the Israelites pass through the Red Sea, Jesus passes through the waters of baptism, and, like Israel, enters into a period of wilderness temptation. Unlike Israel, Jesus passes the test. Just as Moses ascended Mount Sinai and returned with the 10 Commandments, Jesus ascended the Mount of Beatitudes and delivered the 10 Beatitudes to his people (and, yes, there are 10, not 8, Beatitudes – look closely at Matthew 5:3-12). Moses’ face shone, reflecting the glory of God’s presence. Jesus, as God himself, radiates his unveiled glory on the Mount of Transfiguration. God fed his people Israel with the manna, the miracle bread from heaven, in their wilderness wanderings. In our sojourn in the wilderness of life on earth, en route to the promised land of heaven, Jesus feeds us with the miracle of the Eucharist, turning ordinary bread into his Body.

This is only a sampling of the many parallels between Moses and Jesus. It speaks of how God works in similar ways in different epochs of salvation history to rescue his people (although, obviously, the salvation Jesus wrought is much greater in kind). One is reminded of the words of Mark Twain, who famously said that “history may not repeat itself, but it sure does rhyme!” This is the essence of biblical typology. “The New Testament is in the Old, concealed; the Old Testament is in the New, revealed” (St Augustine).

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Second Sunday of Advent: “The beginning of the Good News”

Q. Can you tell us about the significance of this Sunday’s Gospel reading?

A. For this Second Sunday in Advent, the Gospel reading is from Chapter 1 of Mark’s Gospel. Mark does not have an infancy narrative in his Gospel, but rather, gets right into the action of Jesus’ public ministry. His incipit (introductory statement) is as follows: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mark 1:1). This may seem like a very basic declaration to us, as we read Mark approximately 2000 years after it was written. But, make no mistake, with this one line, Mark has instantly captured the attention of the entire world, Jew and Gentile alike.

Q. How is this so?

A. For the Jewish reader, Mark has declared Jesus to be the long-awaited Messiah. The word “Christ” is not Jesus’ last name! It is the English translation of the Greek word Christos, which in turn is a translation of the Hebrew word Meschiach (“Messiah”).

The Gentile world would have been arrested in particular by the statement that Jesus is “the Son of God”. The Roman Emperors were called “God”, “Son of God”, “God from God”, and “Universal Savior of Human Life”, among other exalted titles. Their victories were hailed as “Good News” throughout the Empire. We know this from archaeological inscriptions that have been uncovered in Roman cities. These were displayed publicly because they were things that citizens of the Empire were expected to know and believe.

Q. Is there, then, special significance to the Roman centurion’s confession of faith in Mark 15?

A. You are quite right, and this links Jesus’ Passion back to Mark’s incipit. When the centurion, assisting in Jesus’ crucifixion, witnesses the manner in which he dies and the portents that surround it, he is overwhelmed. He exclaims, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39, emphasis mine).

The most powerful person in the world was the Emperor of Rome, the Caesar. The most powerless person in the world was a victim of crucifixion. Beaten, scourged, naked – utterly forsaken. Crucifixion was so horrific that it was illegal for Roman citizens to be executed in this manner. Jesus, as a Galilean Jew, was afforded no such courtesy.

But the centurion was given an amazing grace. He recognized that his boss, the Emperor, on his Roman throne, was not the “Universal Savior of Human Life” and the “Son of God”. The seemingly powerless Jesus, on the “throne” of his cross, truly was. The centurion changes his allegiance from Tiberias to Jesus, and places all of his hope in the Lord. Mark invites his readers, and you and me, to do the same.

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