HOMILY: Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God (A)
Numbers 6:22–27 / Galatians 4:4–7 / Luke 2:16–21
1 January 2026
Fr. Ricky Cañet Montañez, AA
Another year has come to a close. We look back on 2025 and see that it was filled with a mix of good things and bad. Some experienced financial success, others did not. Some people’s lives were ruined by calamities, others were saved. Babies were born into some families, while others experienced the loss of loved ones. This roller coaster of highs and lows can at times be exhausting. May nabuo at may nabuwag. May tumuloy at may nahinto. May saya at may lungkot. Nakakapagod kung iisipin. (Some were formed and some were broken. Some continued and some stopped. Some were happy and some were sad. It is tiring to think about.) The heart does get tired — tired of being strong, tired of holding everything together, tired of pretending that everything is okay. Moments like these, we do not really long for answers because explanations can feel forced or empty and advice can feel insulting and condescending. Rather, we yearn for the comfort and consolation of home — a place where we feel safe and loved.
I once listened to a man who had just lost his mother. He was strong, composed and respectable — yet when he spoke of her, his voice broke. He said, “Father, when she died, I realised something… all my life, when I was tired or afraid, I was always running home to her — even when I did not consciously intend to.” On her final day, when she could no longer speak, he had held her hand. As long as he held her, he felt somewhat safe. When she was gone, he said he felt like “there was no shelter for him in the world anymore.” Many of us know that feeling — be it because of a really good friend, a spouse, a close relative or a beloved, but mostly because of loving parents, most especially mothers. Unfortunately, some may never have had the experience at all, but still, deep within us lives that aching desire to be held without being judged, to be seen without having to explain, to rest without fear of being left alone.
This is why today’s feast touches something so tender within each one of us. Before Jesus healed the broken-hearted, before He carried the weight of the world, before He embraced the least, the last and the lost, someone else held Him tight and made Him feel loved and safe. The God who saves us, chose to be carried in human arms, comforted by human hands, and loved by a human heart. He could have saved us from His heavenly home but He did not. He chose to have a human mother. Mary was the first home God ever knew on this earth — not a luxurious palace fit for a King nor a place of learning that could provide all the answers. He chose a pure and simple heart that was willing to make space for Him. She held God when He could not speak. She loved Him before He could give anything back. In her arms, the eternal God learned what it meant to be safe in this world.
Maybe this is what some of us are longing for today — not solutions, not miracles, but the assurance that we are still held — that despite all our mistakes in life we are not despicable and unlovable, that despite all the bad things that happen to us we have a refuge where we can find comfort and safety. As we honour Mary, the Mother of God, we honour her as our own heavenly mother. At the cross, Jesus entrusted us to her as her children and through the ages she has been faithful to that trust. She is God’s gift to us because when life feels heavy, when we are tired of being strong, when parts of us feel broken or forgotten — it matters that we have an undeniable assurance that we are not alone. Mary is always there, praying for us and holding us in her heart, even when we feel there is no one around to hold us. If we have recourse to her, she cannot resist us, her children.
Every Christmas, when we recount Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter, we are asked to make room in our hearts so that Jesus may be born in us. As we begin the new year, remember that the God who once rested in Mary’s arms still longs to rest in our hearts. Let Mary guide us to her Son, and let her be our comfort when times get rough. Let us allow Mary to show us how to be a “home” for one another too, especially for those who are weary and lost. May we learn, like Mary, to hold life gently, to love without fear, and to trust that even in our fragility, God chooses to dwell with us.
Mary walks with us as we step into another 365 days of uncertainty, carrying both our hopes and our wounds. She gently leads us to her Son, Jesus, teaching us to trust Him and place our lives in His hands. And so we move forward with courage, knowing we are never alone, always held in His love, and forever at home in Him.
✨ A blessed 2026 to us all. ✨
Mary, Mother of God from paoline.org
Sunday Gospel Reflections 