The Vertigo of the “Yes”
Julián Carrón - Isaiah describes a particularly precarious moment in history. King Ahaz, terrified by an impending enemy attack, is secretly plotting a military alliance with the superpower Assyria. Precisely in this situation, God promises the birth of a son. The promise of something as defenseless as a child seems totally disproportionate in the face of such looming, grave danger. At that moment, it is not easy to grasp who the prophecy refers to; we must wait for its fulfillment for the meaning to become clear. In any case, God’s method is surprising: He challenges the great powers of the time with the promise of a child.
The Gospel reveals who this mysterious child is: “This is how Jesus Christ was born: his mother Mary, being betrothed to Joseph, was found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit before they came to live together.” If we weren’t so used to hearing this passage, we—like anyone reading such a story in the news today—would be shocked. Truly, God is bold enough not to spare Himself challenges, nor does He spare those He involves in this story.
So today, the Church challenges each of us, just as she challenged the protagonists of the past, to understand the true nature of what we are about to celebrate at Christmas. It is not a ritual, an idea, or a program for changing the world. Yesterday—in the time of Ahaz or Jesus—and today, in the face of all the world’s upheavals, God presents us with the birth of a child. Unlike any abstract reduction, however intelligent, He places before us something real, made of flesh and blood.
How can we verify that it is real, that it is something other than an abstraction? By the fact that it provokes all the protagonists. The difference is evident in what that fact triggers in the lives of the people involved.
We see it in Mary, who wonders how this can happen since “I do not know man.” In Joseph, who, “being a just man and unwilling to accuse her publicly, thought to repudiate her in secret.” In Herod, who trembles at the news of that child. No idea, however brilliant, could have triggered these reactions. They are the first to be challenged by God’s action. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that such a shocking event—a woman finding herself expecting a child before moving in with her betrothed—could set off a storm of gossip about Mary in a small village where everyone knows everything. Her future husband, Joseph, finds himself in a situation that is more than embarrassing; it is easy to imagine the rumors that could be sparked about him as well.
Facing these risks—risks they run precisely because they are involved in God’s plan—they are called to decide for themselves. The texts do not mention any strategy devised by Mary and Joseph to deal with the situation. On the contrary, it is surprising that each is called personally to respond to the initiative of the Mystery. Mary decides freely, with her “let it be done to me according to your word,” even before speaking to Joseph. She faces the risks by adhering, without hesitation, to God’s plan. We see the same in Joseph, who considers repudiating her in secret to avoid bringing scandal upon his betrothed.
It isn’t hard to imagine the vertigo they experience, being swept up in God’s initiative. The more we grasp this vertigo, the more we are amazed by the simplicity with which they adhere to a plan that remains completely mysterious.
What makes them so simple in adhering to it, in such a risky situation? What enables them to cut through the clutter of thoughts—their own and those of others? It is not a high-level performance, nor is it strategic genius; it is being overwhelmed by the novelty that this defenseless child brings. In fact, “God entered human life [in history] as a man, in human form,” says Giussani, “so that thought and all its imagination, affection, and dreaming were ‘blocked,’ magnetized” by this child. Here we see the difference that a child—helpless, but real—introduces into life compared to any thought: His presence magnetizes them to such an extent that it permeates them, moving them to adhere with all their affection. Their “yes” is the first sign of the newness that draws them in. And without their “yes,” none of this would ever have happened.
Today we face a situation that is no less challenging. We, like them, are called to decide whether or not to adhere to these words we have heard once again. And even today, there is no shortage of reactions if an adult in our time adheres to a story of this kind. But how can we know if these are just stories or if this is a faith that grips us as it gripped them in the past? We can only verify this by seeing whether or not we find ourselves adhering to it.
Here we see the significance of our “yes,” just as we saw the significance of their “yes.” Because today, “the Gospel becomes credible,” says Ratzinger, “where there are people who allow themselves to be completely captivated by it and where the experience of life becomes its confirmation.”
It is this “being captivated” that can challenge all the narratives and the chatter, all the cynicism of our time, and enable us to celebrate Christmas as a faith confirmed by our experience.
The contribution of our “yes” to the world becomes clear when others encounter someone who is captivated. As a friend writes to thank a person in whom she sees this ‘yes’ happening: “Greet him with all your heart, full of gratitude and emotion! Tell him that he is even more my friend! He is more and more our friend! For his yes to Christ, who is becoming more and more familiar, for his increasingly awakened humanity, for his attachment to reality and his thrilling affection for the One who makes it so. He is accompanying me in all this, and for this reason, we are friends forever!”
An event from the past becomes credible when we see people like this today. Who knows what kind of celebration Christmas will be for this friend!
Fourth Sunday of Advent – Year A Excerpt from the homily by Fr. Julián Carrón December 21, 2025
(First Reading: Is 7:10-14; Psalm: 23 (24); Second Reading: Rom 1:1-7; Gospel: Mt 1:18-24)
