Not a spotlight but a revelation
Homily for Christmas Mass During the Day
“What came to be through Him was life,
and this life was the light of the human race,
the light that shines in the darkness
and the darkness has not overcome it.” (Jn 1:1-18)
So begins the Gospel of Christmas Day—not with a manger or farm animals or Mary and Joseph – but with mystery. Before the angels sing, before the Child is laid in straw, before the shepherds come out of their fields, St. John lifts our eyes to eternity. He tells us that the One born in Bethlehem is older than time itself. He is the Word through whom all things were made. He is the light that conquers darkness.
St. John continues:
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.
This Christmas morning, let’s focus on this light, both the light that has come into the world, and how we can live out our call as sons and daughters of this light.
Let me illustrate how Jesus is the “light of the human race” with a personal experience. A few years back, we moved from our neighborhood in Conover to a house in the woods near Lake Norman, off a little single-lane strip of asphalt called Goat Road. We have about four neighbors—and a lot of wildlife. Each morning I go out to walk and to pray. This time of year, it’s dark—no city lights, just shadows and silence.
One morning, not long after we moved in, I saw another man also walking in the dark. Being in a relatively unfamiliar neighborhood, I was a little wary—maybe even afraid. I think he shared my suspicion. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my flashlight. My first instinct was to shine it directly on him.
But then I paused. I imagined how I would feel if a stranger suddenly shined a flashlight in my face: blinded, accused, threatened—still wondering who this strange visitor was. After a moment’s thought, I did something different. Instead of shining the flashlight at him, I turned it on myself. I wanted him to see who I was: the new neighbor, out for an early morning walk, prayer book in hand. Not an intruder. Not a threat. Not a stranger.
With the light turned that way, we smiled, greeted each other, and continued on our walk.
St. John says, “He was the light that shines in the darkness.” And in that moment—I was the light!
That is how God comes to us at Christmas. Not with a blinding beam that exposes and accuses. Not with a harsh glare that leaves us squinting in fear. But with a light that says, “This is who I am. You don’t need to be afraid.”
If Jesus were never born, it would be as if the flashlight remained pointing at us. This light would expose our sinfulness but give us no pathway to forgiveness. This light would identify the presence of God but never allow us to get to know the true nature of God. This light would be blindingly bright, but keep us lost in the gloom of our own despair.
By showing himself, God has given us the ability to see “his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.” God has given us the ability to see the pathway through our own darkness into the light.
John then says something astonishing: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” Christmas is not simply about God sending a message. Not shouting from heaven. Not shining a spotlight of judgment. It is about God showing up. Entering our darkness from within.
When the Word became flesh, God did not remain distant. He did not remain abstract. He made himself visible—touchable—approachable. Through Jesus, God shines the light on himself, so that we can finally see his face, a face of mercy, healing, humility, and love.
John tells us that some did not know him, which is sad. Some did not accept him, which is tragic. “But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God.” He gave power to become children of the light.
That is the invitation of Christmas morning. To let God step into the dark places of our lives—not to condemn us, but to reveal who he is. To believe that the light shining before us is not a threat, but a gift. And then, having received that light, to carry it ourselves and reveal to the world “the glory as of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.”
Because the world still walks in darkness. Fear, suspicion, division, loneliness—they are all around us. And most people do not need a spotlight aimed at their faults. They need someone willing to show them the light that says, “I am here to give life. I am here to guide you out of your darkness. I am here to give you ‘grace in place of grace’. You are safe with me.”
The world needs someone who has received a glimpse of the “refulgence of God’s glory” mentioned in Hebrews, “the very imprint of his being, and who sustains all things by his mighty word.”
This Christmas, the Light has come into the world. The Word has become flesh. And now, astonishingly, that light shines through us.
May we receive him with joy. May we recognize him with faith. And may we leave this place today as bearers of the light—gentle, revealing, and full of grace.
