The liturgy of Christmas takes us back to that starlit night in Bethlehem when Christ was born. By all accounts, the night was especially dark and the weather especially cold, as Mary and Joseph huddled in a cave — for there was no room for them in the inn. It was there that Mary gave birth to Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, the Word made flesh.
His birth brought great rejoicing. Angels descended from the heavens, announcing glad tidings: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to people of good will!” (Lk 2:14). The poverty of the cave held the greatest of all treasures. The silence was pierced by the song of angels, and the darkness of night was flooded with light.
The first to witness this manifestation of God’s glory and to hear the glad tidings were shepherds tending their flocks during the watches of the night. Scripture tells us: “And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, ‘Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord’” (Lk 2:8-11).
Like the shepherds, we can be filled by the Holy Spirit with a holy fear — with wonder and awe at the greatness and glory of our God and of his only-begotten Son. Such fear is akin to love. It is wonderment at the depth of God’s care for us. It is wonderment that God would go to such great lengths to save us. It is the wonderment of the Psalms: “Lord, what is man that you are mindful of him, and a son of man that you care for him?” (Ps 8:5). Holy fear fills us with joyful praise and thanksgiving for the God who is love.
But there is another kind of fear — a fear that clouds our hope or borders on despair. It may be prompted by illness, financial hardship, the loss of loved ones, or mounting problems at work. We may also absorb the fears of the world around us — a world often on the brink of conflict or collapse. Pope Francis reflected on this reality in a 2016 address: “The world has great fear — and spreads it. Often it makes this the key for interpreting history and not infrequently adopts it as a strategy to build a world based on walls and trenches. We too can understand the reasons for fear, but we cannot embrace it.” The Holy Father added, “Fear inhabits the dark of the past, but it has a weakness: it is temporary. The future belongs to the light! The future belongs to Christ!”
Like the shepherds, we can be filled by the Holy Spirit with a holy fear — with wonder and awe at the greatness and glory of our God and of his only-begotten Son.
The Jubilee of Hope, begun by Pope Francis and continued by Pope Leo XIV, reaches its pinnacle as we make our way through Advent toward the dazzling light of Christmas. It is a sacred moment to gather up our fears and anxieties — including those absorbed from the world — and entrust them to the Lord of History, the Redeemer of the World. It is he who consigns our fears to the past. It is this Savior who is our future.
Our founder, Blessed Michael McGivney, stood among his people as a witness to hope. Amid their very real fears and anxieties, he helped them to focus their eyes on Christ. By his sacrificial ministry and his closeness to the people of his parish, he led them to Christ, in whom he placed all his trust.
Christ is born for us. God is with us. May the birth of Christ, the light of the world, bring hope in the midst of our fears, peace in the midst of our strife, and light in the midst of our darkness. To Christ, indeed, belongs the future — a future full of hope — “and hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5).




