The Church insists on giving us this Sunday
because Christmas is not finished when the world moves on.

What we are celebrating is not atmosphere or memory.
It is a fact.

God has taken flesh — and He has not withdrawn.

Today’s readings are not sentimental.
They are quietly demanding.
They tell us that God has not only spoken,
but has chosen to dwell —
to remain with His people in a concrete, costly way.

The first reading from Sirach speaks of Wisdom.

Not as clever advice.
Not as personal insight.

But as something living.

Wisdom comes forth from God,
pitches her tent among His people,
and takes root.

The Church has always heard in this a promise fulfilled in Christ.

God does not shout instructions from a distance.
He does not remain abstract or untouchable.

He dwells.

Catholic faith begins here —
not with our search for meaning,
but with God’s decision to stay close.

St John gives us one of the most familiar lines in Scripture:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

Because it is familiar, we risk missing how radical it is.

This is not metaphor.
It is doctrine.

God has entered history,
time,
matter,
and body.

Which means the Catholic faith cannot be reduced to:

values

inspiration

private belief

It is about encounter with a living Lord
who teaches, forgives, commands, and saves.

If God has taken flesh,
then life cannot remain unchanged.

St John is also honest:

“He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.”

This is not aimed at “other people.”
It is a warning for the religious.

It is possible to live close to the Church
and still keep Christ at the edges.

To admire Him,
but resist His authority.

To celebrate Christmas,
but avoid conversion.

Imagine being invited to stay in someone’s house.
They welcome you warmly.
They show you the guest room.
They make space for you.

But there are doors you are not allowed to open.

“Not that room.”
“Not that cupboard.”
“Not that part of the house.”

You are welcome —
but only on certain terms.

Many people live their Catholic faith like that.
Christ is welcomed —
but only into certain rooms of life.

He may stay in the spare room of Sunday,
but not enter our choices, our habits, our moral decisions, or our time.

But the Word did not become flesh
to remain a guest.

He came to dwell —
to live at the centre,
not at the edges.

The Word does not come to decorate our lives.
He comes to claim them.

St Paul helps us see what is at stake.

We were chosen in Christ
before the foundation of the world.

Chosen for holiness.

Not for convenience.
Not for comfort.
Not for a faith that fits neatly around our preferences.

The Catholic faith is not an accessory to life.
It is the truth about who God is
and who we are.

When this is forgotten,
faith becomes optional,
morality negotiable,
and worship occasional.

This is where the readings speak directly to us.

We live in a culture — and increasingly a Church culture —
that is comfortable with:

spirituality without obedience

belief without discipline

Jesus without the Catholic Church

A Christ who reassures
but never commands.

A Gospel that comforts
but never corrects.

But the Word who became flesh
did not come to remain harmless.

He came to reveal truth,
to confront sin,
and to save sinners.

And that includes us.

The Word did not dwell among us once
and then retreat.

He still dwells:

in the teaching of the Church

in the Scriptures

and above all, in the Eucharist

This is why Catholic faith is concrete.

If God has taken flesh,
then matter matters.

Time matters.
Bodies matter.
Commitment matters.

So does the way we live our Catholic life —
not perfectly,
but seriously.

So this feast places a question before us —
not harshly,
but honestly.

What place does Christ really have in our lives?

Not in memory.
Not in sentiment.

But now.

Is Sunday Mass essential,
or optional?

Is Confession part of our life,
or a distant idea?

Is the Church a teacher we listen to,
or a voice we edit?

This is not about being strict.
It is about being real.

Because the Word became flesh
so that our lives could be healed, ordered, and saved.

St John gives us a promise:

“To those who did receive Him,
He gave power to become children of God.”

Receiving Christ is not passive.

It means allowing Him to teach us,
correct us, forgive us, and shape our choices.

It means choosing a Catholic life
that is lived, not merely inherited.

Regular worship.
Serious prayer.
Confession when we fall.
A moral life shaped by the Gospel rather than convenience.

This is not restricting. It is freedom. Freedom to do good, act right, live well.

On this Second Sunday of Christmas,
the Church does not ask us to feel festive.

She asks us to decide.

The Word has taken flesh.
He has made His dwelling among us.
He has not withdrawn.

The question is not whether God is present.

The question is whether we will receive Him —
fully, faithfully, and without conditions.

May the Word who became flesh
find a true home in our lives,
in this parish,
and in the way we live the Catholic faith.