Reflection for December 25, 2025

The Nativity of the Lord (A)

Isaiah 9:1-6 | Psalm 96: 1-2, 2-3, 11-12, 13 | Titus 2:11-14 | Luke 2:1-14

​The readings proclaim that God enters human history to bring light, peace, and salvation to a world in darkness, revealed fully in the birth of Christ. They call each and everyone of us to welcome this saving grace with humility, obedience, and lives shaped by God’s redemptive order and purpose.

​In a dense forest lived albino animals—an albino deer, rabbit, and owl. One day, sunlight pierced the trees, flooding their home with light. The deer shivered, saying, “It hurts my eyes! I’ve lived in shadows all my life.” The rabbit nodded, “Yes, the darkness feels safe. I’m used to it.” Even the owl whispered, “Better the quiet night than this blinding brightness.” Yet the wise old tortoise said, “Light may sting at first, but it shows the path and reveals the beauty we’ve been missing.” Slowly, they stepped forward, blinking, and discovered a world richer than their shadows. Sometimes, we cling to darkness because it’s familiar—but Jesus’ light invites us to see life fully.

Our first reading from Isaiah opens with, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich described the coming of Jesus as a divine light breaking into a world shrouded in darkness, where humanity longed—often unknowingly—for salvation. In her visions, Christ’s birth is accompanied by a radiant light that does more than illuminate the night; it reveals God’s mercy entering the shadows of human suffering and sin. Isaiah’s prophecy of a great light rising in darkness finds fulfillment at Christmas, when Christ is born among us. Jesus is called the Wonder-Counselor because He reveals God’s wisdom through love and truth rather than power; God-Hero because He conquers sin and death with the Cross, not weapons; Everlasting Father because He continually guides and sustains His people; and Prince of Peace because He restores harmony between God and humanity and calls us to reconciliation. As the light of the world, Jesus invites us to reflect: this Christmas, are we allowing His light to illumine our lives, or do we choose to remain in darkness, refusing His presence?

Filbert declared, “This Christmas, I’m going to be generous and giving!” He bought gifts for everyone—family, friends, Lorraine—even the mailman. First test: traffic. A pedestrian waved. Filbert honked. “Uh… generosity in progress,” he muttered. Next test: a stray dog. He drove around it, muttering, “Self-preservation counts as giving, right?” Lorraine groaned, “Filbert, really? I thought you were trying to change.” Filbert shrugged, juggling gifts and guilt: “Four candles and four weeks of Advent clearly weren’t enough.” Lorraine laughed, “Yep… looks like the road to real change is endless, bumpy, and full of honks!”

The apostle Paul in his letter to Titus reminds us that the coming of Jesus is pure grace—God freely offering salvation to all. Yet this grace is not passive; it trains us to turn away from sin and to live self-controlled, upright, and God-centered lives as we await Christ’s glorious return. Christmas, then, is not only about celebrating His birth, but about allowing His grace to reshape how we live each day. Meister Eckhart teaches, “What good is it for me if Mary gave birth to the Son of God 1,400 (2,000) years ago and I don't give birth to God's son in my person and my culture and my times?” We welcome Him actively when we choose honesty over deceit, forgiveness over resentment, and generosity over selfishness. Families do this by praying together, speaking kindly, practicing discipline rooted in love, and serving others, especially the poor. In living this way, we become a people eager to do good—ready to receive Christ not only in the manger, but in our daily lives.

A Buddhist, a Hindu, and a Christian start arguing about whose God really delivers. To prove it, they agree to jump off a cliff. The Buddhist goes first, chanting, “Buddha, Buddha, Buddha!” Midair, he slows down and gently floats to the ground. The Hindu scoffs and jumps next. “Hare Krishna! Hare Rama!” he cries—until confidence turns to panic. “Hare Krishna! Hare Ra—SPLAT.” Now it’s the Christian’s turn. As he falls, he prays, “Lord Jesus, save me!” Then panic kicks in: “St. Peter! St. Paul! Mama Mary!” The ground rushes closer. Desperate, he screams, “Lord Jesus—Lord Je—BUDDHA BUDDHA BUDDHAAAA!”

Mary and Joseph were probably sweating bullets—Mary about to give birth, Joseph knocking on doors like a desperate Airbnb guest, and every inn replying, “Sorry, fully booked.” The shepherds weren’t exactly living the dream either: zero job security, no food reserve, no night-shift allowance—just sheep, wolves, and a generous dose of existential dread out in the fields. And honestly, approaching Christmas today feels just as steery—I mean scary—for us as a people. With injustice and corruption flying around and somehow no one ever being “accountable,” it feels like watching a teleserye with no final episode. Add to that the real Christmas miracle: mothers preparing Noche Buena for the entire clan with a ₱500 budget—one chicken, three hotdogs, endless faith, and the hope that everyone will still be “busog sa kwento.” Yet somehow, Christmas still comes. Maybe that’s the point. In Luke 2:1–14, the angels’ first words are simple but powerful: “Fear not.” Spoken into fear and uncertainty, they announce that fear no longer has the final word because the Savior is born. Christmas proclaims that whatever darkness we face—loss, worry, weakness—God has entered it with us. As Liz Babes and Richard Rohr, OFM, note, Scripture has 365 “fear nots,” one for each day—and truly even more, because Jesus is Emmanuel, God-with-us, who never leaves us in this valley of tears. As St. Augustine reminds us, “God became man so that man might not despair.” Christmas becomes real when we choose trust over fear, prayer over anxiety, and hope over despair, because Jesus Himself is the Good News.

<enrique,ofs>