Daily Catholic Lectio. Wed, 24 December ‘25. Dawn from on High

Daily Catholic Lectio

Wed, 24 December ‘25

Christmas Novena – Day 8

2 Samuel 7:1–5, 8–12, 16; Luke 1:67–79

Dawn from on High

We stand today at the threshold of Christmas. Night is almost over. The Church invites us to lift our eyes and hearts to a beautiful image that gathers all our hope into one phrase: “the Dawn from on High.”

Dawn is not yet full daylight, but it is more powerful than the night. It tells us that darkness does not have the last word.

1. God Who Builds the House (2 Samuel 7)

In the first reading, King David feels settled. He lives in a palace and wants to build a house for God. It is a generous thought. But God gently reverses the plan. “You will not build a house for me. I will build a house for you.”

Here we learn something essential about God. He is not first a God who asks for space; He is a God who creates space for us. David wants to give God a dwelling; God promises David a future. David thinks in terms of stone and wood; God thinks in terms of life and generations.

This promise reaches far beyond David. “Your house and your kingdom shall endure forever.” In the darkness of history—failures, exile, broken kingship—God quietly prepares a descendant who will reign forever. The dawn begins long before the sun appears.

2. A Song at the Edge of the Night (Luke 1:67–79)

In the Gospel, Zechariah breaks his long silence and sings. His canticle is not sentimental; it is prophetic. He looks at his newborn son, John, and sees beyond him.

“You, my child, will go before the Lord…

to give his people knowledge of salvation

through the forgiveness of sins.”

And then comes the heart of today’s theme:

“By the tender mercy of our God,

the dawn from on high shall break upon us,

to shine on those who dwell in darkness

and the shadow of death,

and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

Notice where the dawn comes from: from on high, from God’s compassionate heart. This is not a light we generate. It is a light that searches for us. It comes to those who are sitting—stuck—in darkness and fear.

3. From Tent to Presence

David wanted to build God a house. Zechariah proclaims that God Himself is coming to dwell among His people. The eternal God enters our time. The God who cannot be contained chooses to pitch His tent among us.

This is the mystery we are about to celebrate: God does not wait for perfect temples or perfect hearts. He comes as dawn—quietly, gently, irresistibly. Like the bridegroom coming out of his chamber, like the sun rising from the horizon, the Son comes forth from the heart of the Father

to become human among humans.

4. Dawn Changes How We Live

If God comes to us as dawn, then faith is not denial of darkness; it is trust in light. The dawn does not shout. It does not argue with the night. It simply arrives—and everything slowly changes.

Many today live in shadows: uncertainty, loneliness, fear about the future, weariness of heart. The Gospel does not promise instant daylight, but it promises direction: “to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

This is the gift of the Dawn from on High: forgiveness instead of guilt, presence instead of abandonment, peace instead of confusion.

5. Becoming Dawn for One Another

If Christ comes as our dawn, then we are called to become dawn for others. A word of encouragement. A patient listening ear. A forgiving heart. A quiet act of kindness. Small lights, yes—but dawn always begins small.

On this final day before Christmas, let us wait not with anxiety, but with confidence. God keeps His promises. He builds what we cannot build. He comes when night seems longest.

May the Dawn from on High rise upon our lives, shine in our darkness, and guide our steps into the way of peace.

Fr. Yesu Karunanidhi

Archdiocese of Madurai

Missionary of Mercy