This is the edited text of the homily of the Lourdes day Mass for the Order of Malta at St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney 6 December 2025.
A recent McCrindle report offers a fascinating snapshot of trends in naming our bubs. For over a decade now, Oliver has reigned supreme for the Aussie boys, while Charlotte and Isla have been jostling for top spot for girls. Fashionable at the moment for boys are short, solid-sounding names like Bill, Jack and Leo, while for girls it’s softer, more vowel-heavy names like Amelia, Ava and Mia.
How do parents choose a name? Some cultures take direction from the circumstances of birth, so you might be named “Cyclone” or “Big loud frog beside river” depending on what was going on at the time. Others look to the culture, to political leaders or pop stars for inspiration. Some limit themselves to names commonplace amongst their relatives. Others look for something different. Some wait till the baby is born to pick a name that fits their look or temperament…
It can all be rather arbitrary, and sometimes you feel sorry for the kid, as when I was once presented with a candidate for confirmation whose given name was R2D2 after the Star Wars robot…
In biblical times, names functioned rather differently. Instead of reflecting parental caprice, names were citizenship papers, offering information about the child’s family, tribal and ethnic background and their likely destiny. Your name was your truth.
My parents were still debating my name on the way to my baptism. They’d settled a first name but not a second. They compromised on giving me second and third baptismal names, one from each side of the family, along with my first and last names. Something similar happened to Our Lord. He inherited the surname “Bar-Joseph, of the tribe of David” from St Joseph, and “of Nazareth” from his mother. In due course the world would give Him a third surname, “Christ.” But it was expected His given name would be one common in His family (cf. Lk 1:59-63).
Yet as we heard in our Gospel (Mt 1:18-23), there was something of a tussle over His name like on the way to my christening. The Prophet Isaiah had picked the name עִמָּנוּאֵל “Emmanuel,” which means God-with-us (Isa 7:14). The Archangel Gabriel preferred יְשׁוּעָה yeshuʿah, “Jesus,” meaning God-saves-us. Together these names revealed His identity and mission: both divine פנים panim or presence, and divine רָפָא rāphā or healing.
God-with-us. Our prophet foresees our divine accompaniment: “Sing and dance, daughter Zion, for I’m coming to dwell among you” (Zech 2:14-17). This presence would be our security that things would go well for us. But it would also be our deliverance when things go not so well. Christ is not just God-with-us, He’s God-saving-us. He’s both prevention and cure. The dreamy promises made to Joseph are fulfilled as his boy is born and matures, preaches and heals, lives and dies, descends to the dead and rises to the heights. He is God with us and for us.
God could have come to us as a spooky “presence,” a symbol, or a sound. But He decided to share in our nature, so He might give His flesh and blood for our salvation on the cross and in Holy Communion. And to have such flesh and blood to give, it was fitting that He be “born of a woman, born a subject of the Law, to redeem the subjects of the Law” (Gal 4:4). Hence the unique participation of His Mother. Recently the Vatican’s doctrinal watchdog suggested we avoid titles for the Virgin like Co-redemptrix or Mediatrix of All Graces, as they can be misleading. It’s enough that, through Mary’s fiat, the other-worldly and glorious One came to dwell among this-worldly and inglorious men; that in Mary’s discipleship the creator of all flesh took flesh from her humble and obedient flesh; and that, in the words of the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins by Mary’s service “God’s infinity was dwindled to infancy.”
That she is the Theotokos, the God-bearer, is enough, and more than enough. As she lent Him the hospitality of her heart and hearth, so the Divine Host became host for all humanity. As she gave Him the generosity of her sacrifice and service, so the Divine Physician became the greatest human hospitaller.
For the Order of Malta, the crucial role of the Mother of God, the Virgin of Philermos, is a no-brainer and it is no wonder we have drawn close to the apparitions and miracles of Lourdes. Her unstinting fiat established the pattern for us all, of saying yes to God, more and more generously, until we are totally conformed to His will. Her faithful discipleship calls us to be defenders of the faith and the faithful. And her merciful maternal flesh calls forth from us a passion for service of our lords the poor and sick and suffering. In her, the Order finds its DNA, becoming a living sanctuary where the Word of God can communicate His teaching and the Divine Physician work His healing.
If Our Lord is God with us and for us, and we are conformed to Him, then the vocation of the Knight Hospitaller must also be with and for all humanity. Our eight-pointed cross is so much more than a decoration for our garments: it is an enduring reminder of the Lord’s eight beatitudes, and positioned over our hearts so those beatitudes might be our moral compass. Knights and Dames Hospitallers of Jerusalem, Rhodes and Malta: yours is a sacred trust and precious witness, not to be the Saviour yourselves – Christ is that and the Virgin of Philermos His closest collaborator. All we must do is imitate their availability, fidelity and service.
The 18 recognised saints and beati of our Order so far – or 19 if you include our patron St John the Baptist as an honorary Knight – demonstrate that it is possible, even amidst advancing age, physical fragility, moral weakness or other human limitations to join the Baptist in pointing toward Christ, God-with-us, God-saving-us, in our every word and deed. God bless the knights and dames and their lords the poor and sick!