Homily for Christmas Day

In receiving the gift of God, we, in turn, become the gift. “He gave power to become children of God.” In this interim time, we must be the face of God for each other. To see those who are invisible and smile on those who feel ashamed. 

I have Mass on Christmas Morning at St. Isidore @ 8:30 am

frjoedailey@gmail.com

Transcript

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to John.
 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through Him, and without Him nothing came to be. What came to be through Him was life, and this life was the light of the human race. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 
A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony to testify to the light, so that all might believe through Him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light, the true light, which enlightens everyone who was coming into the world. 
He was in the world, and the world came to be through Him, but the world did not know Him. He came to what was His own, but His own people did not accept Him. But to those who did accept Him, He gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in His name, who were born not by natural generation, nor by human choice, nor by a man's decision, but of God. 
And the Word became flesh, and made His dwelling among us, and we saw His glory, the glory as of the Father's only Son, full of grace and truth. John testified to Him and cried out, saying, "This was He of whom I said, 'The one who is coming after me ranks ahead of me, because He existed before me.' 
From His fullness we have all received grace in place of grace, because while the law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God, the only Son, God, who is at the Father's side, has revealed Him." 
The Gospel of the Lord 

The constellation Orion is visible in the winter sky in the northern hemisphere. At midnight Christmas Eve, Orion is directly overhead. But consider this. The light from the stars of Orion's belt are 1,200 light years away. So when you look at Orion, you're actually seeing Orion in the Middle Ages. You're looking into the past. 
The prologue of John's Gospel invites us to remember all the way back in the beginning. On Christmas morning, we catch a glimpse of God's inaugural vision at the dawn of creation. When we gaze at the stars in the heavens, we see the world through God's eyes. All that exists is loved into being. This self-giving of God is woven into the very fabric of creation. God's plan for the world has not changed. You and I and everything that exists in the universe are created in love. 
When the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us, Heaven and Earth were united. Christ's body was made from the same stardust that makes up all other bodies. The heavens live in us and with us. We are stardust. God is as close to us as our very breath. 
On the fourth Sunday of Advent, we sang the words of Psalm 80, "Let us see your face, and we shall be saved." On Christmas Day, we see the human face of God. We saw His glory, the glory as of the Father's only Son, full of grace and truth. 
One year, just before Christmas, I was preparing a young man, Josh, to proclaim the reading from Titus at the Children's Christmas Eve Mass. We only read from the letter of Titus on Christmas Eve and at the Dawn Mass on Christmas morning. Unfortunately, Titus didn't make the cut for this Christmas Day Mass. But here's the money quote. "God our Savior showed us how good and kind He is. He saved us because of His mercy and not because of any good things that we had done." 
It was clear that Josh was just reading words, so I stopped him. "Does your mother love you when you do good things?" I asked him. "Oh, yes," he said, and he stole a quick glance at his mother. "Does your mother love you when you do bad things?" I asked. He shook his head, embarrassed. "No," he said. He didn't look at his mother. "Yes," I said. "Your mother loves you even when you do bad things." He turned and looked at his mother with amazement. "You do?" he asked. "Yes," she smiled. "I do." His smile was radiant with her delight. He couldn't believe it. 
The Persian poet Hafitz writes, "Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky." 
On New Year's, we read the priestly blessing from the Book of Numbers. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you. The Lord look upon you with favor and give you peace. In John's Christmas Gospel, it is Jesus, God's own Son, who makes God known to us. In Jesus, who is close to the Father's heart, God's face truly shines on us. 
In his new book, Cherished Belonging, Jesuit Father Greg Boyle writes, "We are invited to love what God loves, which is quite different from doing things that please God. The prayer of our life is to lean toward the God of love and say, 'Give me your eyes, then all we'll see is glorious.'" The infinite love of God is always trying to access us, Boyle insists. 
The mystic MacTild of Magdeburg writes, "The God of love is powerless to do otherwise. God chooses this powerlessness. God will be uninterrupted in loving, unstoppable." 
In receiving the gift of God, we in turn become the gift. He gave power to become children of God. In this interim time, we must be the face of God for each other, to see those who are invisible and to smile on those who feel ashamed. 
There's a wonderful African Zulu greeting, "Sawabuna." It literally means, "I see you. You are important to me and I value you." People respond by saying, "Shiboka," which means, "I exist for you." 
The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu wrote, "The solitary human is a contradiction in terms. Your humanity comes into its own in belonging. 
Millions of people feel invisible. No one looks at them with recognition. It's certainly possible that some violent crimes are at their heart, a cry to be seen. Look, I'm here. It feels better to be seen as an enemy than not to be seen at all." 
Last night at midnight mass, Pope Francis opened the Holy Door to usher in the Jubilee Year of Hope. Francis borrowed these words from St. Paul, from Romans 5, verse 5, "Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts." 
The Irish poet and conflict mediator, Pádraig Ó Tuama, draws a picture of what hope looks like. 
When someone is trapped in an insurmountable conflict, ask them, "What will you do the day after the conflict is resolved satisfactorily?" Once they begin to imagine the day after, ask, "What if you did that thing now, rather than waiting for the unlikely resolution?" 
Recently Pádraig watched footage of children in Gaza holding and swinging a rope for other children. He realized that rather than waiting for a day when they can play without threat, they were playing anyway. Someone who finds the courage and the imagination to say, "Let's play anyway," might also say something similarly audacious and be part of a new government, a new company, a new solidarity movement. 
Hope begins in what is impossible.