A Patristic Reflection on Romans 1:1–6 and Matthew 1:18–21
On the holy Vigil of the Nativity of Our Lord, the Church stands in reverent silence before the mystery that is about to dawn. The liturgy of In Vigilia Nativitatis Domini (I classis) is sober, restrained, and profoundly theological. It does not yet sing with the angels; rather, it contemplates the eternal decree of God now entering time. The Epistle from Romans 1:1–6 and the Gospel of Matthew 1:18–21 together unveil the identity of the Child who is to be born: true Son of David according to the flesh, true Son of God according to divine power, and the Savior sent to redeem His people from their sins.
1. Promised Beforehand: The Eternal Plan Made Flesh
(Romans 1:1–2)
“Which He had promised before, by His prophets, in the holy Scriptures.”
Saint Paul opens his Epistle not with sentiment, but with eternity. Christ is not an afterthought in history; He is the fulfillment of God’s ancient promise. On this vigil night, the Church recalls that Bethlehem is not accidental—it is foreordained.
St. Irenaeus of Lyons teaches that Christ “recapitulated in Himself the long history of mankind,” restoring in obedience what was lost in Adam (Adversus Haereses, III). The Vigil reminds us that every prophecy, every covenant, every sacrifice pointed toward this night. The Word now lies hidden in the womb, yet He has already been proclaimed by the prophets.
St. Augustine echoes this mystery:
“The New Testament lies hidden in the Old, and the Old is made manifest in the New” (Quaestiones in Heptateuchum).
Thus, the silence of the Vigil is filled with expectation—the weight of centuries pressing toward fulfillment.
2. Son of David, Son of God
(Romans 1:3–4)
“Who was made to Him of the seed of David, according to the flesh; Who was predestinated the Son of God in power…”
Here Paul confesses the two natures of Christ in a single breath. The Vigil liturgy contemplates this mystery before it is sung aloud at Midnight Mass.
St. Leo the Great, in his Christmas homilies, insists upon this union without confusion:
“The same who is true God is also true man, complete in what is His own and complete in what is ours” (Sermon 21).
On this night, Christ is still unseen, still hidden—but already fully God and fully man. The Vigil teaches us to adore before we behold, to believe before we rejoice.
3. The Virginal Conception and Obedient Faith
(Matthew 1:18–20)
“Before they came together, she was found with child, of the Holy Ghost.”
The Gospel turns our gaze to St. Joseph, the just man who stands at the threshold of the Incarnation. In silence and obedience, he receives the mystery.
St. John Chrysostom praises Joseph’s humility:
“He sought not revenge, nor did he expose her, but he was minded to put her away privately, showing the gentleness of his soul” (Homily on Matthew 4).
The Vigil honors this quiet obedience. Joseph does not yet hear angels singing—but he believes the angel’s word. His faith prepares the world for the birth of the Savior.
4. “Thou Shalt Call His Name Jesus”
(Matthew 1:21)
“For He shall save His people from their sins.”
Before the Child is born, His mission is proclaimed. The Vigil does not dwell on the manger, but on the Cross already foreshadowed.
St. Jerome remarks with striking clarity:
“He is not called Jesus because He teaches, nor because He reigns, but because He saves” (Commentary on Matthew).
Thus, the Church waits—not merely for a birth, but for redemption. The name Jesus resounds in the stillness of the Vigil as a promise of mercy yet to be poured out in blood.
5. Waiting at the Threshold of Light
The Vigil of Christmas teaches us how to wait: with faith grounded in prophecy, with obedience shaped by humility, and with hope fixed on salvation. The Fathers remind us that the Nativity is not sentiment, but mystery; not nostalgia, but fulfillment.
As St. Gregory the Great exhorts:
“Let us consider how great is the humility of God, that for our sake He came down to us” (Homily 8 on the Gospels).
Standing on the edge of Christmas, the Church whispers rather than sings. She kneels before the hidden Christ, confident that soon the silence will break into glory:
“Hodie Christus natus est.”
Until then, we watch, we believe, and we adore.