Thursday, 8 January 2026

Christmas 2025 - Homily by Archbishop Elias Frank


Holy Mass at the Cathedral of Most Holy Rosary, Kolkata

Dear brothers and sisters,

Long before the birth of Jesus, the prophet Isaiah (9:1–6) painted a strikingly vivid picture of his world: the heavy yoke that burdened the people, the rod of the oppressor, the thunder of marching soldiers, garments soaked in blood. In a single expression, it was a land wrapped in darkness. These images are not hard for us to grasp; they speak of fear, suffering, violence, and oppression – realities that humanity has experienced in every age.

Yet Isaiah does not allow darkness to have the final word. With prophetic hope, he proclaims: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” God does not abandon His people. When darkness seems overwhelming, God Himself kindles a light–and that light becomes the source of great joy.

Who is this light? Isaiah gives a surprising answer: a child. Small and fragile, yet no ordinary child. He is called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His dominion will never end, and His peace will know no limit.

As we celebrate Christmas today, we cannot help but notice the joy all around us. The streets are brightly lit, homes are decorated, shops are full of people, and there is a festive spirit everywhere. Here in the city of Kolkata, Christmas truly looks like a feast for everyone–not only for Christians. People of all religions and backgrounds share in the celebration. There is music in the air, smiles on faces, and greetings exchanged freely. This itself is something beautiful, because it shows a deep human longing for joy, light, and togetherness.

But this also invites us to ask an important question: What is Christmas for those who do not follow Christ, yet celebrate His birthday? And even more importantly, what is Christmas for us who do believe in Him?

If Christmas is reduced only to singing carols, eating good food, wishing one another, and exchanging cakes and gifts, then the joy remains momentary. It lasts for a day or two, and then life goes on as before. Such joy does not truly touch or transform our lives.

The Gospel of Saint Luke (2:1–14) helps us go deeper. The shepherds were out in the fields, keeping watch during the night. They were poor, ordinary people, yet they were awake, attentive, and ready to listen. When the angel announced the birth of the Savior, their joy did not end with amazement. They went in haste, they encountered the Child, and they returned changed–glorifying and praising God.

Welcoming the light, therefore, means more than celebrating a festival. It begins with listening to the Word of God and continues by putting the teaching of Jesus into practice in our daily lives. A Christian is not called to imitate the world blindly, nor to live by excuses, but to be light in the world.

Saint Paul, in his letter to Titus (2:11–14), reminds us that the grace of God trains us to renounce selfish and worldly desires and to live lives marked by self-control, justice, and devotion. Why does Paul insist on this? Because this world is not our final destination. We are made for something greater. We are destined for eternal life. The Child of Bethlehem was born to show us the way.

There are people–often unnoticed–who truly live Christmas every day. They are those who do good quietly: those who care for the sick, feed the hungry, forgive injuries, share what little they have, speak words of kindness, and stand with those who feel forgotten. Their joy does not depend on decorations or celebrations. Their joy comes from love given and received. This is the joy that lasts.

Some years ago, I visited an elderly woman who was seriously ill. Her room was small, dimly lit, and silent. When I asked her how she was feeling, she smiled gently and said, “Father, my body is weak, but inside I have a great light.” When I asked her what she meant, she replied, “Every night, when pain increases and fear tries to take over, I think of the Child lying in the manger. If God chose to enter the world in such weakness, then I no longer need to be afraid. He is with me – even in the darkness.”

The room did not change. Her illness did not disappear. Yet there was a light that no darkness could overcome.

Dear brothers and sisters, Christmas does not promise us a life free from suffering, illness, or hardship. But it offers us something far more precious: the assurance that we are never alone in the darkness. When trials come, when sorrow or disappointment enters our lives, let us not lose heart. Let us turn toward the light and allow Christ to shine upon our darkest moments.

Today, the Lord places before us a simple yet decisive choice: to remain in a joy that is passing, or to embrace a joy that transforms; to remain in darkness, or to walk in the light; to merely celebrate Christmas, or to live Christmas.

May we ask for the grace to be like the shepherds – watchful and attentive; like Mary–able to treasure the light in our hearts; and like Christ, the Light of the world–bringing hope, peace, and lasting joy wherever there is darkness.

Amen.

***

Wednesday, 1 October 2025

Homily of Archbishop Elias Frank at Thanksgiving Mass

 The Cathedral of the Most Holy Rosary, Kolkata | 26 September 2025

 

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

The Word of God today offers us both a powerful warning and a tender invitation. It asks us simple but unsettling questions:

👉 Are we aware of the Lazarus who is sitting at our gate?
👉 Do we notice the suffering of others, or do we choose to look away?

1. The Prophet Amos: A Voice Against Complacency

In the first reading (Amos 6:1, 4-7), the prophet Amos speaks sharply against the leaders of Israel who were “lying on beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches, eating choice lambs and calves,” while their nation was collapsing morally and spiritually.

Their sin was not wealth itself, but complacency. They enjoyed abundance but ignored the cries of the poor and the decline of their society. Amos warns that such blindness inevitably leads to ruin.

This warning of prophet Amos remains deeply relevant even today. We live in a world where it is easy to be absorbed in ourselves and forget others. We scroll past suffering, avoiding it because it makes us uncomfortable. And because we encounter suffering so often, we sometimes become desensitized – our hearts grow numb.

2. The Rich Man and Lazarus: A Call to Examine Ourselves

In the Gospel (Luke 16:19-31), Jesus continues the theme from last Sunday’s parable, which was about the dishonest steward. The steward cleverly plans for his future after being dismissed, and Jesus concludes by saying:

“The children of this world are more astute in dealing with their own kind than are the children of light… You cannot be the slave both of God and of money.” (Lk 16:8, 13)

Today’s Gospel presents us with a rich man dressed in purple and fine linen – garments, which only the very wealthy could afford. He feasts magnificently every day. His world revolves around himself: eating, drinking, and making merry.

At that time, many believed wealth was a sign of God’s blessing, while poverty was seen as a curse. Sadly, such attitudes are not confined to the past; they exist even today.

The rich man’s fault was not simply that he was wealthy, nor that he failed to give Lazarus food. His real sin was that he did not even see Lazarus. Lazarus was invisible to him.

There are “Lazaruses” in our parishes and families too. Sometimes children neglect their elderly parents. Priests, caught up in administration – often tasks that could be entrusted to lay people – may find little time to visit the sick or the lonely. The Gospel calls each of us to examine ourselves.

For the rich man, the realization of his wasted life came too late. He had become enslaved to his wealth. This pattern can be seen in other forms of enslavement too: addictions to alcohol, mobile phones, the thirst for power, etc. A time comes when these things begin to control our lives, and by then it may be too late to change course.

The Archdiocese of Calcutta is blessed with shining examples who did not ignore Lazarus at the gate: Mother Teresa and the Missionaries of Charity, the Little Sisters of the Poor, and many others. They not only welcome Lazarus – they make him the centre of their attention. They teach us to trust in God’s providence rather than in our wealth or in our inadequacy. I thank the Lord for the many generous people in this Archdiocese who do not turn away from the Lazarus at their gate.

I am reminded of an event that took place during my diaconate ministry in Howrah parish, we wanted to do something special with the parish youth on Christmas Day in 1992. We prepared food packets and went out to distribute them among people living on the footpaths.

I remember one man sleeping on the pavement. We gently woke him up and offered him a food packet. He looked at us, then at the packet, shook his head, and refused it. That scene remains etched in my memory as a profound lesson: never judge a person by appearances.

Poverty is not only the lack of food or shelter; often, it is also the lack of someone who listens and cares.

I appeal especially to my brother priests: let us identify the “Lazaruses” in our parishes, involve our parishioners, visit those in need, and spend time with them. Sometimes, a few moments of presence can speak more powerfully than any material help.

3. Paul to Timothy: Pursue Righteousness

In the second reading (1 Timothy 6:11-16), St. Paul speaks to Timothy like a spiritual father: “Man of God, pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith.”

Paul reminds us that the Christian life is a battle, not against others, but against ourselves: against selfishness, against greed, against spiritual laziness... We are not called merely to avoid evil, but to actively pursue good.

And when we do good, something wonderful happens: we not only help Lazarus – we encounter Christ Himself.

Conclusion

Let us pray today for eyes that truly see and hearts that are ready to respond. May we not wait until it is too late, like the rich man in the parable.