The Deeper Meaning of the Nativity

In this profound sermon, Fr. Nicholas delves into the true significance of the Nativity story amidst a world filled with darkness and suffering. He reflects on the quiet heroism of Joseph and the mother of God, drawing timeless lessons about faith, obedience, and love. Fr. Nicholas challenges listeners to consider whose kingdom they serve and to find solace and purpose in following the path of righteousness even when it leads to obscurity.

Transcript

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Beloved in Christ, Christ is born. Only days ago, the church filled the world with light, proclaiming with the angels. Today, the Virgin gives birth to the transcendent one. We sang of peace on earth and goodwill among men. And yet today the holy gospel places before us a darker scene. Flight by night, the fury of a tyrant, the slaughter of innocent children, and the holy family living as refugees in a foreign land. The church does this deliberately that we may understand what the nativity truly means for a fallen world.

The child born in Bethlehem does not enter a neutral or gentler or gentle history. He is born into a world already wounded by sin, fear, and the lust for power. From the very beginning, the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness seeks to extinguish it. When the angel appears to Joseph in a dream and commands him, "Rise, take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt," we see the quiet heroism of righteous obedience. Joseph does not argue, delay, or ask for explanations. He rises by night. He takes the child. He protects the mother. He entrusts everything to God. Joseph teaches us that faith is not merely believing certain truths, but responding with our whole life when God speaks.

Egypt, the land of former bondage, becomes a place of refuge. The Lord who once led Israel out of Egypt, now enters Egypt himself. The one who will later deliver all humanity from slavery to sin first becomes an exile. In this we see a great mystery. Christ heals our wounds not from a distance but by entering fully into them. He sanctifies every place where human suffering is found even flight, displacement, and fear.

At this point, St. John Chrysostom speaks directly to us across the centuries, offering both consolation and instruction. Reflecting on the flight into Egypt, he writes, "And you yourself need to be not be troubled if you are suffering countless dangers. Do not expect to be celebrated or crowned promptly for your troubles. Instead, you may keep in mind the long-suffering example of the mother of the child, bearing all things nobly, knowing that such a fugitive life is consistent with the ordering of spiritual things. You are sharing the kind of labor Mary herself shared. So did the magi. They both were willing to retire secretly in the humiliating role of fugitive."

St. John reminds us that the path of God is often hidden, humiliating, and marked by endurance rather than immediate vindication. The mother of God is not enthroned before the world. She is fleeing by night. The magi do not return home in triumph. They depart quietly unnoticed and Christ himself begins his earthly life not in honor but in danger. Then the gospel confronts us with the horrific rage of Herod. Unable to bear the thought of losing his power, he orders the massacre of the innocent children of Bethlehem.

The church calls these children the holy innocents, the first martyrs for Christ, though they did not know his name. Their blood is the first witness that the coming of the kingdom provokes resistance from the kingdom of this world. Herod represents the heart ruled by fear and pride. The heart that would rather destroy others than surrender itself to God. He is not merely a figure of ancient history. Whenever power is valued above love, control above obedience, self-preservation above truth, the spirit of Herod lives again.

The gospel calls us to ask soberly. Whose kingdom do we serve? A voice was heard in Rama, Rachel weeping for her children. The church does not rush past this grief. Christianity does not deny the reality of innocent suffering. Instead, it places that suffering before God. The tears of the mothers of Bethlehem are taken up into the tears of the Theotokos who knows that the child she protects today will one day be rejected, beaten, and crucified. Already the shadow of the cross falls across the manger.

Yet the story does not end in Egypt nor in Bethlehem's sorrow. Herod dies. Tyrants always do. The angel speaks again and once more Joseph obeys. The Holy Family returns not to glory but to obscurity, to Nazareth, a place of no reputation. Where the Son of God grows in hiddenness, humility, and obedience, the Savior of the world is content to be called a Nazarene.

Here we learn another essential truth of the nativity. Salvation grows quietly. God does not conquer by spectacle, but by faithfulness. Not by violence, but by love. Not by crushing his enemies, but by enduring suffering and transforming it from within.

For us, this gospel is both consolation and challenge. It consoles us by reminding us that God is present even when life is uncertain. When obedience leads to hardship, when faith brings no immediate reward. As St. John Chrysostom teaches, to suffer in obscurity for the sake of righteousness is not a sign of abandonment, but of communion. Communion with Mary, with the Magi, and with Christ himself.

But it also challenges us. Will we be like Joseph, attentive to the voice of God, ready to rise and act in obedience? Or will we cling to our own sense of control like Herod, fearful of losing our little kingdoms? Will our hearts become places of refuge for Christ or places of resistance?

The Sunday after the nativity teaches us that Christmas is not an escape from reality, but God's entrance into it. The word became flesh, not to shield us from struggle, but to lead us through it unto life. Let us therefore guard the Christ child within our hearts. Let us flee from sin as Joseph fled from danger. Let us bear trials nobly without bitterness or despair, knowing that such a path is consistent with the ordering of spiritual things. And let us trust that even in the darkest nights, God is at work quietly fulfilling his promises. For out of Egypt, out of suffering, exile, and death itself, God calls his son. And in his son, he calls us home. To him be glory, together with his Father and the Holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.