On Christmas Eve, Ukrainian families create a living Nativity scene by spreading straw across the floor and placing hay beneath the dinner tablecloth. “This gesture connects the birth of Jesus to the natural world, with the presence of the field permeating the home,” Metropolitan Borys Gudziak says.
Portuguese families observe Noite da Consoada (Night of Comfort and Consolation) with a humble meal of salt cod, cabbage and potatoes. “The idea is to echo the simplicity of the day,” Ricardo da Silva, S.J., shares with Metropolitan Gudziak. “Jesus was born in this very simple setting.” These practices, Ricardo suggests in this year’s final episode of “Preach,” remind us not only of Christ’s simplicity but also offer a nudge for preachers: “The best thing to do is to preach simply.”
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Metropolitan Borys Gudziak of the Ukrainian Catholic Archeparchy of Philadelphia leads the Ukrainian Catholic community in the United States. Born in Syracuse, N.Y., he holds a doctorate in Slavic and Byzantine cultural history from Harvard University. He was the founding president and rector of the Ukrainian Catholic University in Lviv, Ukraine, from 2002 until 2012, and served Ukrainian Catholics in Western Europe until 2018.
His preaching is deeply influenced by his dear friend and mentor, Henri Nouwen, who was known for his emphasis on simplicity and authenticity. “People today know Henri from his writings,” he says, “but I would say his preaching was an order above because it was personal.” The metropolitan recalls what he learned from hearing hundreds of Nouwen’s homilies when he was a student at Harvard. “Henri just said: ‘Keep it very simple. Use keywords many times.’” And it is this ability to communicate simply that the metropolitan shows in his Christmas Eve homily, when he uses vivid expressions like “the clear odor of the manure” and “the bells of the cows.” By drawing on Nouwen’s wisdom, the metropolitan invites us to approach the Christmas mystery with renewed awe, wonder and openness.
Scripture Readings for the Nativity of the Lord (Christmas Mass during the Night)
First Reading: Is 9:1-6
Responsorial Psalm: Ps 96: 1-2, 2-3, 11-12, 13
Second Reading: Tit 2:11-14
Gospel: Lk 2:1-14
You can find the full text of the readings here.
Homily for the Nativity of the Lord (Christmas Mass during the Night) by Metropolitan Borys Gudziak
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.
In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. Dear brothers and sisters, I greet you with Christmas joy.
I think we all want this Christmas joy—we all want to share it. Let us look at this Gospel reading and let it help us encounter the Lord, because Christmas is, first and foremost, the advent of Jesus—the coming of Jesus, the opportunity for you, me, and the whole world to receive the Lord. Jesus comes very concretely: He comes in a time and a place, to a concrete family.
It’s not “once upon a time”; the Lord is acting, and we sacredly remember this in the liturgy. In our liturgical calendar, we live it as happening now. Everything is concrete, but it’s also symbolic. It happened historically, but it’s alive today. Jesus is not only a historical figure like Adam, Noah, Abraham, or presidents and kings who had an earthly life, but He is alive in the Church—the Church, which is His body. He is present and active today in your life and mine, if we let Him do that—if we let Him be in our hearts.
This is what this Mass is about. This is what our togetherness, our communion, is geared towards.
In one of our liturgical verses, we sing about this census, which brings Joseph and Mary to Judea, to the area of Jerusalem, to the village of Bethlehem, which exists to this very day. We sing about it as a census—not only of citizens, but a census that symbolizes our incorporation as citizens of the Kingdom of God.
All of this is happening in a distant province of the Roman Empire. This is kind of far away from where the power is, where the money is. The Lord comes to those who are on the margins, and He is the King of peace—real peace, not the Pax Romana, which in the Roman Empire was enforced by wars and conquest in colonized territory, but the peace of the heart.
And this is what the angels are saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those with whom His favor rests.”
There was no place in the inn.
You know, it’s not easy to be on the street. This was not a homeless person in an urban setting. This was a homeless family in a rural context—one that we, probably most of us, don’t know very well, but it’s good to be led into that.
You can hear the sound of the lambs and the sheep. You can hear the bells of the cows. You can smell the dew as it is settling in the night, and the straw. There’s also the clear odor of the manure. The birth of our Savior happens in the most modest of circumstances—in loneliness, in poverty. It’s not a sanitary place for the arrival of a child.
God is showing us that He is with us where it hurts. And just having arrived from Ukraine—from a war context where there are 5 million internally displaced people, where 8 million others were forced to leave the country—there are so many migrants, so many homeless people, so many lonely people. The Lord is coming to you if you’re alone today. The Lord is the Lord of those who don’t have a home, who don’t have something to eat, who don’t have security.
As Jesus is born, there in Luke, we hear of the shepherd boys—the shepherds in the fields. They’re keeping night watch over their flock, because there’s always danger. There could be wolves, wild dogs, or others—thieves trying to steal a sheep or two, a lamb.Maybe they were, you know, warming themselves with a bit of moonshine, and all of a sudden, the angels appear. The host of angels. They are the ones that surround this King—not armies with arms, but the modest messengers who sing, who announce to these shepherd boys: “Do not be afraid.”
We proclaim to you—I proclaim to you—the great news of joy, of great joy, that will be for all people. For all people. Each word, each adjective in the Gospel, is ripe. It’s rich. And the meaning—the meaning is true.
A Savior is born to you, who is Messiah and Lord. For the Hebrews, for the Jews, the Messiah was to be a human being. The Lord is God. But Jesus is both Messiah and Lord, God and man. He is the Anointed One, because Messiah means “anointed” in Aramaic.
The corresponding word in Greek was Christos, Christ. So Jesus is the Anointed One for the followers of the Judaic tradition, but He is the Anointed One for the whole world, for all people, for the Gentiles. He is Lord God.
And you will see a sign—an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
Now, you know they had to describe that because these shepherd boys are going to go and find Him. This is in the continuation of Luke. They go and find this really surprising scene of a child with parents, in the midst of animals, in the midst of everything that is connected with animals. But there is the glory of God that is present.
What does this say to you and me?
I hope that both you and I can hear both the universal and concrete sides of the story, that both you and I can receive the personal invitation.
It’s very easy to get caught up in the mailing list of Christmas cards, the Christmas shopping, all the cooking, the preparations. But the silence of this scene in the night—the tranquil quality that night brings—is an invitation for you and me to find a few moments to be in front of this mystery, to receive Jesus into our hearts.
I’ve just been in six countries in 12 days. I really need to settle down. I need this Christmas to sit quietly by the Christmas tree, to stay for a few more minutes after services in church, to light a candle in front of an icon, to live Jesus’s style by extending a hand to somebody that’s marginalized, to somebody that’s hungry, to somebody that does not have a place in the inn.
Jesus is inviting us to do that—to receive Him into our hearts.
It’s a great paradox. According to Byzantine tradition, Christ is called the Pantocrator, the One who holds everything in His hands. He holds this universe, which astronomers tell us is 93 billion light-years across. The Son of God holds the universe in His hand. And yet He is the One that becomes this defenseless infant.
I’m always overwhelmed by this mystery, by the fact that God speaks to us so gently, that the Lord does not impose, that the whole invitation is in the hand of a newborn child. We can accept it. We can walk away.
Let us sit with the Lord today. Let us kneel with Him. Let us sing with the angels. Let that very intimate, completely unaggressive, totally free invitation be something that touches our hearts—yours and mine.
The Lord embraces us. I embrace you with His love, with this peace, and with this quiet joy.
Christ is born—let us glorify Him!
