My most memorable Feast of the Holy Family happened over fifteen years ago. At the time, my wife and I had a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and a six-month-old. We journeyed up to Wisconsin to visit my parents for Christmas, which fell on a Friday. On Saturday, we piled into our minivan to drive twelve hours back to Arkansas so that my younger son could be baptized on Sunday, the Feast of the Holy Family. Near the Illinois border, heavy snow began to fall. As we drove away from a gas station, one of the sliding minivan doors malfunctioned in the severe cold. The door alarm came on…and stayed on for the next four hours! Our little baby catechumen started crying; the toddler and preschooler fussed and jostled each other; my wife and I practically shouted to make ourselves heard above the door alarm. I wish I could have beamed St. Paul into that minivan, just to see if his Colossians vision of “humility, gentleness, and patience” would survive with three kids under five shouting in his ears.
And yet, somehow, we made it to Arkansas. And when we entered the church the following morning, it was a sight to behold: Christmas trees, wreaths, lights, poinsettias, the Nativity crêche, the baptismal font, all bathed in the glow of the morning sun. We could not imagine a better day or more beautiful setting for the baptism of our third child. The felt sense of warmth and calm stood in such sharp contrast to our midwinter minivan sojourn.
Of course, my family’s difficult road trip cannot compare to the deprivations the Holy Family faced. This Sunday’s gospel reminds us that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were refugees fleeing the imminent threat of political violence. The Messiah may have been a descendant of King David, but the Holy Family was not part of the ruling class. They were not among the powerful, the wealthy, or the influencers. Rather, they were poor, working-class immigrants walking by the light of faith, following their dreams, and seeking to survive in a violent, dangerous world. Like so many of our brothers and sisters on the move today.
I pray this Sunday that our church and world can, in the words of Colossians, turn a face of “compassion, kindness, humility, and gentleness” to migrants and refugees who walk in the footsteps of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And may we strive to “put on love” with our own families, with whom we are privileged to share life’s journey.
Jay Carney
I am an Associate Professor of Theology who came to Creighton in 2011. My research and teaching engage Church History and World Christianity, especially modern Africa.
I am married with four children. My wife Becky is a remarkable woman, and our children have given both of us much love and laughter. I grew up in the Washington, DC area and have also lived in Wisconsin and North Carolina among other places. Prior to coming to Creighton, I worked in campus ministry at the University of Arkansas. In my spare time, I enjoy running, cycling, playing soccer, and listening to music of all types.
After years as a reader of Magnificat and then Give Us This Day, I am now seeing the other side! These reflections entail a very different style of writing than academic journal articles, and I’ve also gained newfound respect for the homilist’s task! I feel that I am “preaching” to myself as much as anyone else. It’s wonderful to know that so many people are walking together as disciples of Jesus Christ. Thank you for your prayers!
