Homily of Pope Benedict at Mass on Christmas Eve
 A  celebration of light, colour and song. An event watched by millions of  people across the world. But also an opportunity to reflect on the true  meaning of Christmas.
   A  celebration of light, colour and song. An event watched by millions of  people across the world. But also an opportunity to reflect on the true  meaning of Christmas.
   The Mass presided over by Pope Benedict XVI in  the Vatican on Christmas Eve was all of this and more. St Peter’s  Basilica was indeed a blaze of lights, illuminating the faces of  pilgrims and visitors representing every corner of the earth – to which  the ceremony itself was broadcast, via radio, television and on the  internet. But it was the Pope’s homily that set the tone of the  celebration by reminding us that Christmas is an “epiphany”, marking the  appearance of God, and of His great light, in a Child that is born for  us. Benedict XVI invited us to “dismount from the high-horse” of our  “enlightened reason”, to “set aside our false certainties and  intellectual pride”, in order to find and recognize the God who appeared  as a Child…
Here follows the full text in English of the Holy Father’s homily:
Dear Brothers and Sisters!
   The reading from Saint Paul’s Letter to Titus that we have just heard begins solemnly with the word “apparuit”, which then comes back again in the reading at the Dawn Mass: apparuit  – “there has appeared”.  This is a programmatic word, by which the  Church seeks to express synthetically the essence of Christmas.   Formerly, people had spoken of God and formed human images of him in all  sorts of different ways.  God himself had spoken in many and various  ways to mankind (cf. Heb 1:1 – Mass during the Day).  But now  something new has happened: he has appeared.  He has revealed himself.   He has emerged from the inaccessible light in which he dwells.  He  himself has come into our midst.  This was the great joy of Christmas  for the early Church: God has appeared.  No longer is he merely an idea,  no longer do we have to form a picture of him on the basis of mere  words.  He has “appeared”.  But now we ask: how has he appeared?  Who is  he in reality?  The reading at the Dawn Mass goes on to say: “the  kindness and love of God our Saviour for mankind were revealed” (Tit  3:4).  For the people of pre-Christian times, whose response to the  terrors and contradictions of the world was to fear that God himself  might not be good either, that he too might well be cruel and arbitrary,  this was a real “epiphany”, the great light that has appeared to us:  God is pure goodness.  Today too, people who are no longer able to  recognize God through faith are asking whether the ultimate power that  underpins and sustains the world is truly good, or whether evil is just  as powerful and primordial as the good and the beautiful which we  encounter in radiant moments in our world.  “The kindness and love of  God our Saviour for mankind were revealed”: this is the new, consoling  certainty that is granted to us at Christmas.
   In all three  Christmas Masses, the liturgy quotes a passage from the Prophet Isaiah,  which describes the epiphany that took place at Christmas in greater  detail: “A child is born for us, a son given to us and dominion is laid  on his shoulders; and this is the name they give him: Wonder-Counsellor,  Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace.  Wide is his dominion in a  peace that has no end” (Is 9:5f.).  Whether the prophet had a  particular child in mind, born during his own period of history, we do  not know.  But it seems impossible.  This is the only text in the Old  Testament in which it is said of a child, of a human being: his name  will be Mighty-God, Eternal-Father.  We are presented with a vision that  extends far beyond the historical moment into the mysterious, into the  future.  A child, in all its weakness, is Mighty God.  A child, in all  its neediness and dependence, is Eternal Father.  And his peace “has no  end”.  The prophet had previously described the child as “a great light”  and had said of the peace he would usher in that the rod of the  oppressor, the footgear of battle, every cloak rolled in blood would be  burned (Is 9:1, 3-4).
   God has appeared – as a child.  It  is in this guise that he pits himself against all violence and brings a  message that is peace.  At this hour, when the world is continually  threatened by violence in so many places and in so many different ways,  when over and over again there are oppressors’ rods and bloodstained  cloaks, we cry out to the Lord: O mighty God, you have appeared as a  child and you have revealed yourself to us as the One who loves us, the  One through whom love will triumph.  And you have shown us that we must  be peacemakers with you.  We love your childish estate, your  powerlessness, but we suffer from the continuing presence of violence in  the world, and so we also ask you: manifest your power, O God.  In this  time of ours, in this world of ours, cause the oppressors’ rods, the  cloaks rolled in blood and the footgear of battle to be burned, so that  your peace may triumph in this world of ours. Christmas is an epiphany –  the appearing of God and of his great light in a child that is born for  us.  Born in a stable in Bethlehem, not in the palaces of kings.  In  1223, when Saint Francis of Assisi celebrated Christmas in Greccio with  an ox and an ass and a manger full of hay, a new dimension of the  mystery of Christmas came to light.  Saint Francis of Assisi called  Christmas “the feast of feasts” – above all other feasts – and he  celebrated it with “unutterable devotion” (2 Celano 199; Fonti Francescane,  787).  He kissed images of the Christ-child with great devotion and he  stammered tender words such as children say, so Thomas of Celano tells  us  (ibid.).  For the early Church, the feast of feasts was  Easter: in the Resurrection Christ had flung open the doors of death and  in so doing had radically changed the world: he had made a place for  man in God himself.  Now, Francis neither changed nor intended to change  this objective order of precedence among the feasts, the inner  structure of the faith centred on the Paschal Mystery.  And yet through  him and the character of his faith, something new took place: Francis  discovered Jesus’ humanity in an entirely new depth.  This human  existence of God became most visible to him at the moment when God’s  Son, born of the Virgin Mary, was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid  in a manger.  The Resurrection presupposes the Incarnation.  For God’s  Son to take the form of a child, a truly human child, made a profound  impression on the heart of the Saint of Assisi, transforming faith into  love.  “The kindness and love of God our Saviour for mankind were  revealed” – this phrase of Saint Paul now acquired an entirely new  depth.  In the child born in the stable at Bethlehem, we can as it were  touch and caress God.  And so the liturgical year acquired a second  focus in a feast that is above all a feast of the heart. This has  nothing to do with sentimentality.  It is right here, in this new  experience of the reality of Jesus’ humanity that the great mystery of  faith is revealed.  Francis loved the child Jesus, because for him it  was in this childish estate that God’s humility shone forth.  God became  poor.  His Son was born in the poverty of the stable.  In the child  Jesus, God made himself dependent, in need of human love, he put himself  in the position of asking for human love – our love.  
   Today  Christmas has become a commercial celebration, whose bright lights hide  the mystery of God’s humility, which in turn calls us to humility and  simplicity.  Let us ask the Lord to help us see through the superficial  glitter of this season, and to discover behind it the child in the  stable in Bethlehem, so as to find true joy and true light. Francis  arranged for Mass to be celebrated on the manger that stood between the  ox and the ass (cf. 1 Celano 85; Fonti 469).  Later, an  altar was built over this manger, so that where animals had once fed on  hay, men could now receive the flesh of the spotless lamb Jesus Christ,  for the salvation of soul and body, as Thomas of Celano tells us (cf. 1 Celano 87; Fonti  471).  Francis himself, as a deacon, had sung the Christmas Gospel on  the holy night in Greccio with resounding voice.  Through the friars’  radiant Christmas singing, the whole celebration seemed to be a great  outburst of joy (1 Celano 85.86; Fonti 469, 470).  It was  the encounter with God’s humility that caused this joy – his goodness  creates the true feast. Today, anyone wishing to enter the Church of  Jesus’ Nativity in Bethlehem will find that the doorway five and a half  metres high, through which emperors and caliphs used to enter the  building, is now largely walled up.  Only a low opening of one and a  half metres has remained.  The intention was probably to provide the  church with better protection from attack, but above all to prevent  people from entering God’s house on horseback.  Anyone wishing to  enter the place of Jesus’ birth has to bend down.  It seems to me that a  deeper truth is revealed here, which should touch our hearts on this  holy night: if we want to find the God who appeared as a child, then we  must dismount from the high horse of our “enlightened” reason.  We must  set aside our false certainties, our intellectual pride, which prevents  us from recognizing God’s closeness.  We must follow the interior path  of Saint Francis – the path leading to that ultimate outward and inward  simplicity which enables the heart to see.  We must bend down,  spiritually we must as it were go on foot, in order to pass through the  portal of faith and encounter the God who is so different from our  prejudices and opinions – the God who conceals himself in the humility  of  a newborn baby.  In this spirit let us celebrate the liturgy of the  holy night, let us strip away our fixation on what is material, on what  can be measured and grasped.  Let us allow ourselves to be made simple  by the God who reveals himself to the simple of heart.  And let us also  pray especially at this hour for all who have to celebrate Christmas in  poverty, in suffering, as migrants, that a ray of God’s kindness may  shine upon them, that they – and we – may be touched by the kindness  that God chose to bring into the world through the birth of his Son in a  stable.  Amen.