By Sunday evening, many people come to Mass already tired.

Not just physically,
but inwardly.

The week is already beginning to form in our minds.
Responsibilities, worries, unfinished business.

So the Church does not shout tonight.
But she does not soften the truth either.

She simply states a fact that still stands:

The Word became flesh — and He has not withdrawn.

The first reading from Sirach speaks of Wisdom.

Wisdom does not remain in heaven.
She does not speak once and disappear.

She makes her dwelling among God’s people.

That matters.

God has not chosen to stay at a safe distance from human life.
He has entered it — fully.

Which means faith is no longer an idea we think about,
but a reality that presses in on how we live.

St John gives us words we know well:

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

Because they are familiar, we can hear them as comforting.

But they are unsettling.

God has entered real life —
time, bodies, work, relationships, suffering.

If God has taken flesh,
then there is no part of life that is untouched by Him.

The Catholic faith cannot remain private,
occasional,
or decorative.

It claims us.

St John immediately adds:

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

This is not aimed at those outside the Church.

It is aimed at those close to it.

At people who know the language of faith
but resist letting it change them.

It is possible to attend Mass,
to value the Church,
and still keep Christ at arm’s length.

To want His comfort
without accepting His authority.

Imagine inviting someone into your house.

You are welcoming.
You are polite.

But there are rooms they may not enter.

“Not that room.”
“Not that habit.”
“Not that choice.”

Many people live their Catholic faith like this.

Christ is allowed in —
but only under conditions.

But the Word did not become flesh
to be managed.

He came to dwell at the centre of our lives.

St Paul helps us see why this matters.

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

Chosen to be holy.

Not chosen for convenience.
Not chosen for a faith that fits around everything else.

The Catholic faith is not one interest among many.

It is meant to shape the whole of life.

So tonight the Church asks us something simple and serious.

Is Christ shaping how we live —
or is He simply included?

Is Sunday Mass something we build our week around —
or something we fit in when we can?

Is Confession part of our life —
or something we postpone indefinitely?

This is not about guilt.

It is about honesty.

The Word who became flesh
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

God has not gone quiet.

The question is whether we are listening.

St John does not end with warning alone.

He ends with promise:

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

Receiving Christ does not mean having life sorted out.

It means opening the door
and allowing Him to change us.

Slowly.
Truthfully.
Faithfully.

This is not narrow.

It is freedom.

As this Sunday draws to a close,
the Church does not ask us to feel festive.

She asks us to be real.

The Word has taken flesh.
He has entered our world.
He has not stepped back.

The question is not whether God is present.

The question is whether we will let Him shape how we live —
not just tonight,
but every day.

May the Word who became flesh
find a true home in us
and in the way we live our Catholic faith.