The Church gives us this Sunday
because Christmas is not a feeling
and not a memory.
It is a verdict.
God has entered the world — and that changes everything.
The danger is that we sentimentalise what is meant to confront us.
Today’s readings refuse to let us do that.
The first reading from Sirach speaks of Wisdom.
Not as advice.
Not as clever thinking.
Wisdom comes forth from God
and makes her dwelling among His people.
That word matters.
God does not visit occasionally.
He does not offer guidance from a distance.
He dwells.
He pitches His tent.
He stays.
From the beginning, Catholic faith is not about ideas,
but about presence.
And presence demands response.
St John’s Gospel gives us words we know well:
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
Because we know them,
we risk neutralising them.
This is not poetry.
It is doctrine.
God has entered matter,
time,
history,
and the human body.
Which means Christianity — and specifically the Catholic faith —
cannot be reduced to:
being nice
having values
believing in something
If God has taken flesh,
then how we live matters.
Our bodies matter.
Our choices matter.
Our obedience matters.
John immediately adds:
“He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.”
That is not about atheists.
It is not about the secular world.
It is about religious people
who were close to God
but unwilling to change.
People who knew the language
but resisted the truth.
That line is written for us.
Because it is possible to attend Mass,
celebrate Christmas,
and still keep Christ at arm’s length.
To want His comfort
without His authority.
St Paul makes the stakes unmistakable.
We were chosen in Christ
before the foundation of the world.
Chosen to be holy.
Not chosen to fit in.
Not chosen to be comfortable.
Not chosen for a faith that adapts itself to modern taste.
The Catholic faith is not an optional layer on life.
It is the truth about reality.
And when that truth is ignored,
everything else begins to unravel.
Faith becomes occasional.
Morality becomes negotiable.
Worship becomes conditional.
This is where the readings land hard.
We live in a culture — and increasingly a Church culture —
that wants:
spirituality without obedience
forgiveness without repentance
Christ without His Church
A Jesus who reassures,
but never commands.
A Gospel that comforts,
but never confronts.
But the Word who became flesh
did not come to be managed.
He came to rule hearts,
judge sin,
and save souls.
And that includes ours.
Imagine a ship in trouble.
The lifeboat is lowered.
It is solid.
It is seaworthy.
It is capable of saving lives.
But people remain on deck.
Some admire the boat.
Some trust that the boat exists.
Some even defend it loudly.
But they do not get in.
At that point, the problem is no longer the boat.
The problem is refusal.
The Catholic faith is not lacking.
The sacraments are not weak.
The Church is not unclear.
What is missing is not provision —
but decision.
The Word became flesh
not to be admired from the shore,
but to be entered —
fully, decisively, and without conditions.
God has not withdrawn.
The Word still dwells:
in the teaching of the Catholic Church
in Sacred Scripture
and above all, in the Eucharist
If God has truly taken flesh,
then the sacraments are not optional.
Sunday Mass is not a lifestyle choice.
Confession is not an extra.
Catholic moral teaching is not a suggestion.
This is not about being strict.
It is about being honest.
So let us be clear.
Is the Catholic faith shaping our lives —
or fitting around them?
Is Mass something we attend when convenient —
or something we build our week around?
Do we confess sin —
or explain it away?
Do we allow the Church to teach us —
or only when we already agree?
These are not abstract questions.
They are the difference between receiving Christ
and keeping Him at the edges.
St John gives us one final word — and it is hope.
“To those who did receive Him,
He gave power to become children of God.”
Receiving Christ changes us.
Not gradually by accident,
but decisively by grace.
He does not come to condemn us.
He comes to save us.
But He will not save us
without our consent.
On this Second Sunday of Christmas,
the Church does not ask us to feel festive.
She asks us to choose.
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, obediently, 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.