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Homily for the Episcopal Ordination of Bishop Euginius Cañete, 28 Dec 2024, Matthew 2: 13-18
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ. We are still in the season of Christmas, so let me begin by greeting you a Merry Christmas. What a joy it is to preside at this Eucharist in the company of my brother bishops and archbishops of the Philippines, especially the archbishop emeritus of Cotabato, Cardinal Orly Quevedo; the archbishop of Cebu, Abp. Joe Palma, and our Papal Nuncio, Abp. Charles John Brown. Thank you to the bishop of Antipolo, Bp. Stude Santos, for hosting us this morning.
Today a new bishop will be born. What a meaningful way to sustain the motif of birthing or nativity, which we continue to celebrate until Epiphany.
But today’s feast of the Holy Innocents is a good reminder for us to avoid the tendency to overly romanticize Christmas. Obviously because of the Lukan portrait of a Bethlehem scene with shepherds keeping watch in the night and angels singing the Gloria and a child born in a stable and laid in a manger, we tend to caricature that first Christmas night as a “Silent night, holy night, when all was calm and all was bright”. We get a totally different picture in the infancy narrative of Matthew—of a “Scary night, horrible night, when all was tense and all was dark.”
What we have is a strained portrait of a refugee family that has to flee the ire of a murderous tyrant who mercilessly orders the massacre of babies in Bethlehem. Matthew calls it a fulfillment of the prophecy of Jeremiah. In Matthew 2:18, he says, “A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.” What comes to my mind is Gaza, and the 15,000 Palestinian children who have so far been counted as casualties in the year-long Israeli military bombings on Gaza, in retaliation for the 1,200 Israelis killed in October 2023, among them 30 children and scores still being kept as hostages by the Hamas. Gaza and many other war-torn places around the world are waiting to become the modern-day Bethlehems
We need to be reminded that Christianity, is more than just a quaint little story about the birthing of an individual messiah some two thousand years ago. It is rather a story about the painful but hopeful birthing of a new humanity and a new creation in Jesus Christ. This is what Paul is speaking about in his letter to the Romans, as his reason for hoping. In Romans 8:19 , he says, “For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God…” Therefore, in Romans 8:22, he also declares, “We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now…” This is the spirit that will permeate our celebration of the coming jubilee year as “pilgrims of hope.”
To a humanity that tends to despair about the darkness of grief brought about by the inhumanity of so much violence and cruelty in this world, the birthing of Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, is our message of hope. God has put on our humanity precisely to transform it and give it its true dignity as God’s image and likeness in Jesus Christ. We are therefore never to give up on our humanity, because God himself never did. While we believe in God, we are never to forget that incarnation means God also believes in us.
This must be the reason why Paul is telling Timothy in our second reading, “I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord, nor of me, a prisoner for his sake; but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.”
Bishop Eugene, in a little while, we will be imposing our hands on you so that you will be set on fire by the Spirit for participation in the life and mission of the Church to the world. Be reminded always of Jesus who said, “I have come to light a fire on earth, how I wish it were already ablaze.” With the fire of his love and the power of God’s Word, you are to bring light wherever there is darkness, and warmth wherever there is cold. Like the ancient priests of the temple, you are to guard this perpetual fire, stir it aflame, keep it burning, kindle it with care.
You are not to allow this fire to be doused by the “spiritual worldliness” about which Pope Francis often speaks. He cautions us bishops and priests against the tendency to develop a subtle but dangerous form of self-centeredness and complacency, against the kind of religiosity that focuses on external appearances, social status, entitlements, and personal gain rather than authentic discipleship, kenosis and disposition for servanthood.
From here on, you will be signing your name with a cross before it, the way we write down the names of the dead in our list of Mass intentions. For that is what being bishop is about: it is an invitation to die to self and live only for Chirst. It is to declare as Paul did, “Through the law I died to the law that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ; yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me…”
