SOLEMNITY OF THE NATIVITY OF THE LORD

HOMILY OF HIS HOLINESS BENEDICT XVI

Saint Peter's Basilica

Friday, 24 December 2010

Dear Brothers and Sisters!

“You are my son, this day I have begotten you” – with this
passage from Psalm 2 the Church begins the liturgy of this
holy night. She knows that this passage originally formed
part of the coronation rite of the kings of Israel. The king,
who in himself is a man like others, becomes the “Son of
God” through being called and installed in his office. It is a
kind of adoption by God, a decisive act by which he grants
a new existence to this man, drawing him into his own
being. The reading from the prophet Isaiah that we have
just heard presents the same process even more clearly in
a situation of hardship and danger for Israel: “To us a child
is born, to us a son is given. The government will be upon
his shoulder” (Is 9:6). Installation in the office of king is like
a second birth. As one newly born through God’s personal
choice, as a child born of God, the king embodies hope. On
his shoulders the future rests. He is the bearer of the
promise of peace. On that night in Bethlehem this
prophetic saying came true in a way that would still have
been unimaginable at the time of Isaiah. Yes indeed, now it
really is a child on whose shoulders government is laid. In
him the new kingship appears that God establishes in the
world. This child is truly born of God. It is God’s
eternal Word that unites humanity with divinity. To
this child belong those titles of honour which Isaiah’s
coronation song attributes to him: Wonderful Counsellor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Is 9:6).
Yes, this king does not need counsellors drawn from the
wise of this world. He bears in himself God’s wisdom and
God’s counsel. In the weakness of infancy, he is the
mighty God and he shows us God’s own might in
contrast to the self-asserting powers of this world.

Truly, the words of Israel’s coronation rite were only ever

rites of hope which looked ahead to a distant future that
God would bestow. None of the kings who were greeted in
this way lived up to the sublime content of these words. In
all of them, those words about divine sonship, about
installation into the heritage of the peoples, about making
the ends of the earth their possession (Ps 2:8) were only
pointers towards what was to come – as it were signposts
of hope indicating a future that at that moment was still
beyond comprehension. Thus the fulfilment of the
prophecy, which began that night in Bethlehem, is both
infinitely greater and in worldly terms smaller than the
prophecy itself might lead one to imagine. It is greater in
the sense that this child is truly the Son of God,
truly “God from God, light from light, begotten not
made, of one being with the Father”. The infinite
distance between God and man is overcome. God
has not only bent down, as we read in the Psalms;
he has truly “come down”, he has come into the
world, he has become one of us, in order to draw all
of us to himself. This child is truly Emmanuel – God-
with-us. His kingdom truly stretches to the ends of the
earth. He has truly built islands of peace in the world-
encompassing breadth of the holy Eucharist. Wherever it is
celebrated, an island of peace arises, of God’s own peace.
This child has ignited the light of goodness in men and has
given them strength to overcome the tyranny of might.
This child builds his kingdom in every generation from
within, from the heart. But at the same time it is true that
the “rod of his oppressor” is not yet broken, the boots of
warriors continue to tramp and the “garment rolled in
blood” (Is 9:4f) still remains. So part of this night is simply
joy at God’s closeness. We are grateful that God gives
himself into our hands as a child, begging as it were for our
love, implanting his peace in our hearts. But this joy is also
a prayer: Lord, make your promise come fully true. Break
the rods of the oppressors. Burn the tramping boots. Let
the time of the garments rolled in blood come to an end.
Fulfil the prophecy that “of peace there will be no end” (Is
9:7). We thank you for your goodness, but we also ask you
to show forth your power. Establish the dominion of your
truth and your love in the world – the “kingdom of
righteousness, love and peace”.

“Mary gave birth to her first-born son” (Lk 2:7). In this

sentence Saint Luke recounts quite soberly the great event
to which the prophecies from Israel’s history had pointed.
Luke calls the child the “first-born”. In the language which
developed within the sacred Scripture of the Old Covenant,
“first-born” does not mean the first of a series of children.
The word “first-born” is a title of honour, quite
independently of whether other brothers and sisters follow
or not. So Israel is designated by God in the Book of
Exodus (4:22) as “my first-born Son”, and this expresses
Israel’s election, its singular dignity, the particular love of
God the Father. The early Church knew that in Jesus this
saying had acquired a new depth, that the promises made
to Israel were summed up in him. Thus the Letter to the
Hebrews calls Jesus “the first-born”, simply in order to
designate him as the Son sent into the world by God (cf.
1:5-7) after the ground had been prepared by Old
Testament prophecy. The first-born belongs to God in a
special way – and therefore he had to be handed over to
God in a special way – as in many religions – and he had to
be ransomed through a vicarious sacrifice, as Saint Luke
recounts in the episode of the Presentation in the Temple.
The first-born belongs to God in a special way, and is as it
were destined for sacrifice. In Jesus’ sacrifice on the
Cross this destiny of the first-born is fulfilled in a
unique way. In his person he brings humanity before
God and unites man with God in such a way that God
becomes all in all. Saint Paul amplified and deepened the
idea of Jesus as first-born in the Letters to the Colossians
and to the Ephesians: Jesus, we read in these letters, is the
first-born of all creation – the true prototype of man,
according to which God formed the human creature. Man
can be the image of God because Jesus is both God and
man, the true image of God and of man. Furthermore, as
these letters tell us, he is the first-born from the dead. In
the resurrection he has broken down the wall of death for
all of us. He has opened up to man the dimension of eternal
life in fellowship with God. Finally, it is said to us that he is
the first-born of many brothers. Yes indeed, now he really is
the first of a series of brothers and sisters: the first, that is,
who opens up for us the possibility of communing with God.
He creates true brotherhood – not the kind defiled by sin as
in the case of Cain and Abel, or Romulus and Remus, but
the new brotherhood in which we are God’s own family.
This new family of God begins at the moment when Mary
wraps her first-born in swaddling clothes and lays him in a
manger. Let us pray to him: Lord Jesus, who wanted to be
born as the first of many brothers and sisters, grant us the
grace of true brotherhood. Help us to become like you.
Help us to recognize your face in others who need our
assistance, in those who are suffering or forsaken, in all
people, and help us to live together with you as brothers
and sisters, so as to become one family, your family.

At the end of the Christmas Gospel, we are told that a great

heavenly host of angels praised God and said: “Glory to
God in the highest and on earth peace among men with
whom he is pleased!” (Lk 2:14). The Church has extended
this song of praise, which the angels sang in response to
the event of the holy night, into a hymn of joy at God’s
glory – “we praise you for your glory”. We praise you for
the beauty, for the greatness, for the goodness of God,
which becomes visible to us this night. The appearing of
beauty, of the beautiful, makes us happy without our
having to ask what use it can serve. God’s glory, from
which all beauty derives, causes us to break out in
astonishment and joy. Anyone who catches a glimpse of
God experiences joy, and on this night we see something of
his light. But the angels’ message on that holy night also
spoke of men: “Peace among men with whom he is
pleased”. The Latin translation of the angels’ song that we
use in the liturgy, taken from Saint Jerome, is slightly
different: “peace to men of good will”. The expression
“men of good will” has become an important part of the
Church’s vocabulary in recent decades. But which is the
correct translation? We must read both texts together; only
in this way do we truly understand the angels’ song. It
would be a false interpretation to see this exclusively as
the action of God, as if he had not called man to a free
response of love. But it would be equally mistaken to adopt
a moralizing interpretation as if man were so to speak able
to redeem himself by his good will. Both elements
belong together: grace and freedom, God’s prior
love for us, without which we could not love him,
and the response that he awaits from us, the
response that he asks for so palpably through the
birth of his son. We cannot divide up into independent
entities the interplay of grace and freedom, or the interplay
of call and response. The two are inseparably woven
together. So this part of the angels’ message is both
promise and call at the same time. God has anticipated us
with the gift of his Son. God anticipates us again and again
in unexpected ways. He does not cease to search for us, to
raise us up as often as we might need. He does not
abandon the lost sheep in the wilderness into which it had
strayed. God does not allow himself to be confounded by
our sin. Again and again he begins afresh with us. But he is
still waiting for us to join him in love. He loves us, so that
we too may become people who love, so that there may be
peace on earth.

Saint Luke does not say that the angels sang. He states
quite soberly: the heavenly host praised God and said:
“Glory to God in the highest” (Lk 2:13f.). But men have
always known that the speech of angels is different from
human speech, and that above all on this night of joyful
proclamation it was in song that they extolled God’s
heavenly glory. So this angelic song has been recognized
from the earliest days as music proceeding from God,
indeed, as an invitation to join in the singing with hearts
filled with joy at the fact that we are loved by God. Cantare
amantis est, says Saint Augustine: singing belongs to one
who loves. Thus, down the centuries, the angels’ song has
again and again become a song of love and joy, a song of
those who love. At this hour, full of thankfulness, we join in
the singing of all the centuries, singing that unites heaven
and earth, angels and men. Yes, indeed, we praise you for
your glory. We praise you for your love. Grant that we may
join with you in love more and more and thus become
people of peace. Amen.