Christmas Homily on Luke 2:1 to 14, The First Cry of God and the Cry of Today (25-12-25)

A Christmas reflection on Luke 2:1 to 14 on the First Cry of God and His cry in today’s broken world. (25-12-25)

Praise be to Jesus Christ 

After many years of waiting, a young woman in the family finally became pregnant. From that moment, prayer in the house changed its tone. It became quieter and deeper, filled with gratitude but also with fear, because hope always carries vulnerability. One night, when facilities were simple and there were no proper labour rooms, she was taken inside. Pain was written clearly on her face, and her cry of pain was heard by everyone waiting outside. Those standing there felt helpless. They could not reduce the suffering or hurry the moment. They could only wait, holding their breath and whispering prayers in silence.

Then another cry was heard, no longer the cry of pain, but the cry of new life. In that single moment, everything changed. Fear loosened its grip, tears turned into smiles, and people embraced one another without words. Some folded their hands in thanksgiving, others congratulated each other, and sweets were brought and shared. One cry changed the meaning of all the waiting, and everyone forgot the other cry. This is how Christmas begins.

Saint Luke does not describe it, but we know it must have happened. A child wrapped in cloths and laid in a manger cannot remain silent. The Son of God entered human history not with words, not with power, not with miracles, but with a cry. This is a mystery we often pass over too quickly. The first sound God made on earth was the sound of need.

Isaiah had spoken of this long before when he said, “A child is born to us.” Not a ruler first, not a judge, not a warrior, but a child. Israel had cried for generations under darkness, disappointment, and waiting. On Christmas night, God answered that long cry, not by removing human weakness, but by sharing it. He chose not to come strong, but dependent, not commanding, but trusting, not distant, but close enough to be held.

A cry creates relationship. A crying child believes that someone will come. This is what God revealed about Himself at Christmas. He trusted humanity enough to need it. There is a saying that God became small so that we would not be afraid of Him. A crying child never frightens us. He draws us close. This is how God wanted to enter the world, not through power, but through closeness, not through fear, but through trust. He wanted to enter ordinary homes, tired hearts, and families that struggle and hope at the same time.

In every family, a cry changes priorities. When a child cries at night, comfort becomes more important than sleep, and presence becomes more important than plans. Christmas tells us that this is how God wants to live in our homes, not as an idea or decoration, but as a presence that asks for attention, time, and love. The shepherds understood this instinctively because they were people of the night, familiar with silence and waiting. Angels sang of glory, but peace entered the world first through a crying child in the dark.

But Christmas does not stop at Bethlehem. It quietly turns toward today and asks a painful question. If God cried then, is God crying now. Looking at broken families, wounded relationships, lost faithfulness, and forgotten promises, God still cries. He cries when life in the womb is rejected, when addiction destroys homes, when drunkenness steals dignity, and when faith slowly disappears from Christian families. He cries when prayer is neglected, when love becomes temporary, and when conscience grows silent. This is not the cry of an angry judge. It is the wounded cry of a Father.

The child who cried in the manger later cried again, over Jerusalem, in Gethsemane, and on the cross. The cry of God did not end with Christmas. It continues wherever love is refused and truth is ignored. And this cry is not only about the world far away. It rises while God looks at me, at my compromises, my loss of faithfulness, and my silence when love demanded courage.

Isaiah promised light in darkness, but light can be ignored. The manger can be passed by. The cry can be drowned by noise. Christmas becomes real not when churches are full, but when hearts soften and homes return to prayer. God still cries because crying means hope. It means He believes someone will respond.

The first cry of God is still echoing.
The question is not whether God is crying.
The question is whether I am listening.

Lord Jesus, help me to live a good life, so that I may not cause You to cry again.