Reflection
shared on February 14, 2000, at St. Thomas the Apostle Parish Center
in Delmar, NY, during a Renew 2000 Mission. The reflection and Mary
Murphy’s story “The Little Mermaid” were responses to
the theme “Strengthening Family Life and Supportive Relationships.”
I
am so glad that Jesus’ public ministry did not involve his
family—that he did not require his followers to say good things
about Joseph and to recognize Mary as the Mother of God, that he did
not establish a Holy Family website, jmj.com.
Jesus’
family and background did not recommend him to his hearers. A son of
a carpenter? From Nazareth? And his mother—weren’t the
circumstances of her pregnancy and marriage rather suspect?
Of
course, we believe that Joseph was a saint to whom angels spoke, that
Mary was the immaculately conceived Virgin Mother of God, and that
Jesus was God’s son, a descendant of David born in Bethlehem as the
Scriptures foretold.
What
is the connection between Jesus’ family in his lifetime and the
Holy Family that we have been learning to know for two millennia and
will continue to learn to know in the next millennium?
The
most important connection is: it’s the same family. The Joseph who
heard the angel also worked for a living, paid taxes, and registered
in the census. When the Blessed Virgin was found to be pregnant
before marriage, others besides Joseph knew it, and not everyone had
Gabriel’s insider information. Jesus, God’s Son, would not have
been born if Mary had not accepted the angel’s word and would have
been killed by Herod’s troops if Joseph had not obeyed the angel’s
command.
There
were indeed perks for being the parents of God. We know of a few:
messages from angels early on, visits from shepherds and astrologers,
good wine at a wedding—once. But however many of these there may
have been, great experiences recede, and life—so difficult and
unsatisfactory for me and so easy for everybody else; or perhaps so
sweet to me, but with a precarious sweetness—comes back. The angel
spoke to Joseph in dreams, and Simeon had told Mary: “A sword shall
pierce through thy own soul.” And Jesus was forsaken by God.
When
Joseph and Mary’s twelve-year-old son was missing after the feast,
his parents really didn’t know where he was, did search for him
sorrowing, did receive from him a rather smart remark about “Why
did you search? Didn’t you know I had to be here in my Father’s
house?”—and it certainly wasn’t Joseph and Mary’s house in
Nazareth—and they really didn’t understand what he was saying.
And: how would you have felt?
Much
of the Holy Family’s life was like our life: eating and drinking,
earning a living, cooking and cleaning, being tired, sleeping, being
faithful to our spouse, raising and protecting our children, visiting
relatives, partying with friends, praying in a group, dancing; and
whatever may have been the state of their souls and spirit, their
bodies and perceptions and emotions and joys and sufferings and fears
were like ours. And we know from the Gospels that Mary and Jesus did
not always agree.
This
life with family and friends and coworkers is the life that God asked
the Holy Family to live and asks most of us to live, and it affords
plenty of opportunity to learn to love God and learn to love our
neighbor—to learn to love God by learning to love our
neighbor.
And
that neighbor includes our family. In some ways, it is harder to act
with charity towards those we love than towards a friend or a
stranger. We want more for our loved ones and expect more, and we
expect them to agree with us about the what, the how, and the when
even before we tell them. A long day of working, homemaking, and
schooling shortens fuses, and we face, yet again, other wills, when
we want our will be done.
It
is at home when I most feel Our Lady’s admonition at Medjugorje:
“You cannot say you are converted because your life must become an
every day conversion.”
I
used to regret that I did not do great things. I know now that the
great thing always available to me is to do from obedience and love
what I am doing. For most of us, it is our vocation to live in a
family, and it is our path to glory. For myself, I don’t tell Mary
and Olivia often enough how much happiness I have experienced in this
path.
The
opportunities for learning to love that God’s love gives us are
abundant. They come our way much more frequently and inconveniently
than we want them to come. Every moment—this moment—is a calling
from God. Often we do not listen, and God accepts this. It has taken
me years to hear some things, and I still miss a lot; and too often
when I do hear, I still disobey.
Every
moment is a calling from God. And we may also say: a calling from
Mary, who is our Mother. On the cross, Jesus saw his mother, and the
disciple whom he loved, and he said to his mother, “Woman, behold
thy son!” And to the disciple, “Behold thy mother!” And from
that hour the disciple took her into his home (John 19:26–27).
As
we have taken her into our own homes with devotions, images, and the
Rosary. We know that Mary considers us her children: she has told us.
We in our homes, our friends in their homes, and strangers, some of
whom have no homes, are brothers and sisters in her holy family, now
and forever.
St.
Valentine’s Day 2000 +
