I want to offer my own welcome to all of our visitors to Christ the Good Shepherd, to all of you who are spending the holidays here with family and friends. It’s especially good to have you here this Sunday, the Sunday between Christmas and New Year’s, when the church celebrates the Feast of the Holy Family. The readings for today certainly emphasize family relationships, even ones we might not want to hear about.
Each of us probably hears the Second Reading from the letter of Saint Paul to the Colossians in very different ways. The kids may have paid extra attention to the line: “Fathers, do not nag your children lest they lose heart.” As for the wives, I know there are a few women here who do not take kindly to Paul’s urging: “Wives, be submissive to your husbands.” Husbands, on the other hand, may want to hold this as a scriptural stick over their wives. They may tend to ignore Paul’s following instructions: “Husbands, love your wives. Avoid any bitterness toward them.” But rather than focusing on these lines from Saint Paul, I’d prefer to take another look at what it means to be a Holy Family.
For some of us, this feast day in honor of the Holy Family might suggest we should focus entirely on Mary, Joseph and the infant Jesus. But this day, and it’s readings, applies to more than to just a particular holy family of three people who lived some two thousand years ago. We are all part of still another “holy family.” However, it’s a family made up of more than a mother, father and several children. You are also part of this “holy family” when you are a single parent living with growing children. You are still part of this “holy family” when you are a single adult living alone, in either an apartment or in a home for the elderly. We are all part of the Christian holy family, and this is the family Paul is talking about. This is the family I would offer for our reflection today.
But in considering the holy family of which we are all a part, it’s important for us to begin by reflecting upon the opposite of what a “family” is. I believe “loneliness” is the opposite of being a family. Loneliness may be a strange thing to think about at this time of year, a time of year when all of the TV commercials and songs remind us of being with those we love and who love us. But, for some, the Christmas season can be the loneliest time of the year. For the past several weeks, we may have tried to escape this loneliness by pouring ourselves into holiday activities: parties and shopping, writing cards, baking, hanging lights, and decorating trees. But now it’s all over.
Christmas Day has, once more, come and gone. And we ask ourselves: “Was it worth it?” Is there more joy today, the day after Christmas, the day after we have celebrated the birth of the Christ-child, than there was the day before Christmas? Over the past four weeks of Advent, we have been preparing for the birth of Jesus in our hearts. If we were to continue this theme, we have now reached the point of “post-partum blues.” For those of you who have children, do you recall the hectic days just before their birth; how you wanted the birth to come; and yet, there was still more to do. And then the joy of holding your child in your arms for the first time. Or maybe the trepidation of that experience.
Yes, there is a certain amount of parental concern following the birth of a child. And yes, in the days that follow, for some, there can be a deep case of the blues. And yes, today, the day after Christmas, now that the first joy has left, for some of us, depression can set in. Now is the time when the loneliness we have been trying to fight off can return with a vengeance.
But what is the nature of that loneliness? I’m not an expert in psychology, but someone just like you. Nevertheless, I wonder if that loneliness is a manifestation of our need to be loved, a need to feel special. When I feel unloved, unwanted, I feel lonely. I believe each one of us needs to feel special, to feel loved. I also believe the three readings for today ask us to help others to know how special they really are. To see what I mean, let’s take a closer look at these readings.
In the First Reading from Sirach, we hear how we should make our parents feel special. We don’t often, in our roles as children, whether we are 6, 16, or 56, reflect on how we need to make sure our own mother and father feel special. Yet that is what we heard in our first reading: “The Lord sets a father in honor over his children; a mother’s authority he confirms over her sons.” I won’t read the rest to you. It’s much too painful for me. My mother died during Christmas week four years ago. My father died just before Christmas last year. You who have lost loved ones and who have gone through the holidays without them understand all too well what Sirach tells us. But I believe it is more than just our own parents we are called upon to make special.
A few minutes ago, I recalled how Paul ended the reading we heard today: about not nagging our children and about submission. But the more important part is the opening line: “Because you are God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with heartfelt mercy, with kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” He goes on to say: “Bear with one another; forgive whatever grievances you have against one another. … dedicate yourselves to thankfulness. Whatever you do, whether in speech or in action, do it in the name of the Lord Jesus.”
These, then, are Paul’s words on what it means for an entire community to become a holy family. From him, we hear we are to forgive. We are to accept. Forgiveness and acceptance are the keys to eliminating loneliness. They are the keys to becoming a holy family.
A few minutes ago, when I began this reflection, I said in order to understand something about becoming a holy family, we needed to understand the opposite of being a family is being lonely. In a family in which there is forgiveness and acceptance, there can be no loneliness. In a community in which there is forgiveness and acceptance, there can be no loneliness. When we are made to feel we are special, there is no loneliness.
In our Third Reading, our Gospel Reading, we heard about a man and a woman who might be models for each of us to follow. Although you might think I’m talking about Mary and Joseph, this is not who I mean. Have you ever thought about Simeon and Anna, the prophetess? I doubt if you have. But think for a moment.
Here we see two elderly, very devout people. They had dedicated their lives to the service of God. And what do they do when Mary and Joseph appear in the temple with their firstborn son? Simeon and Anna rush up to this young girl and her husband and begin to praise their child as being the Messiah, the Anointed One. Admittedly Mary and Joseph may have, at this point, begun to suspect this child was someone special. Most parents believe this true about their son, even without shepherds saying angels sang to them, or without having visits, themselves, from angels, either in person, as Mary did, or in dreams as Joseph did.
But what sort of confirmation must it have been not only of the specialness of their newborn son, but of Mary and Joseph, themselves, to have Simeon and Anna tell them that this child is to be “a revealing light to the gentiles, the glory of your people, Israel.” I suggest perhaps Simeon and Anna might be models for us. When was the last time you confirmed to someone, in particular to someone you love, just how special that person is – to you and to others?
Can I be a Simeon or an Anna? Can I allow another to see how special he or she is, not only to me, but to others around us? At Christmas we give material gifts to one another as outward signs of the love we hold for them. Yet it is possible to receive such gifts and still to feel unloved, lonely. Perhaps on this Feast of the Holy Family it might be possible to give another gift, the gift of making someone feel very special; of telling them how they are a “revealing light” to us; how they brighten our lives.
And yes, it is possible there is no one to tell us this; to help us know we are part of a holy family. But there is always one person there, if we are willing to listen. There is always “Immanuel,” God with us. We often forget that the child whose birth we just celebrated “grew in size and strength, filled with wisdom, and the grace of god was upon him.” Sometimes we forget this child became a man who taught us, who suffered for us, who died for us, and who returned to us. And is with us now. We are part of his holy family. And he must be part of ours, whether we live with others, or by our self. He is always present to tell you and me just how special we are to him. All he asks is we help him, by telling one another how special we are to everyone who is part of his Holy Family.
Holy Family Sunday; December 27, 1987; December 30, 1990 (repeated)
Sir 3:2-6, 12-14; Col 3:12-21; Lk 2:22-40