Did everyone have a wonderful Christmas? I imagine some of you spent such lovely times—perhaps gathering with family you rarely see, or meeting friends you hadn't seen in years.
On the other hand, for those who spent Christmas separated from loved ones—whether hospitalized, imprisoned, or in a situation that felt like a prison even without physical custody—I believe it must have felt hundreds of times more painful than the actual circumstances.
Once, I used to visit a women's prison in Massachusetts every week. But come Christmas, the previously calm atmosphere would change completely, and the inmates would become very irritable. It's a season meant for gathering with family and feeling warmth, yet they had no loved ones there. It must have made them feel terribly lonely and sad. For various reasons, I think the family of Mary and Joseph, who welcomed the baby Jesus, might have felt something similar. They weren't the “holy family” depicted in religious paintings, with perfectly pressed robes and a noble domestic life. Rather, they were a family burdened with much suffering, sorrow, and anxiety. That, I believe, was the true image of God's family.
Mary, a pregnant woman in her final month, and Joseph, who had never even lived with her, began their journey by crossing mountains and valleys—a trek stretching over 100 kilometers. Even upon reaching their destination, they found no place to stay. Finally, they lay down in a filthy, dung-covered stable. In a land where they knew no one to turn to for help, the only visitors who came seeking them out were foreigners from a different culture and customs—whose language they likely didn't even understand—and shepherds, whose occupation was hardly considered respectable. Shortly after the child was born, the king issued an order to kill all male infants, forcing them to flee the country. Their life as a “family” began with an uncertain exile, living under constant threat to their lives.
But their hardship didn't end there. From the very start of their sudden cohabitation, Mary and Joseph had a newborn baby whose origins were unknown, before they had even gotten to know each other well. And once they eventually returned to their hometown, they surely faced gossip and hostility from the locals. But survival came first. There was no room for even a hint of sentimentality; reality began without any break.
As we face this cold winter, we remember that many children and adults, both within our country and abroad, are facing life-threatening dangers. Jesus, from the very moment of your birth, you were thrown into the harsh reality of homelessness, suffering exposed to rain and wind, and the life-threatening dangers of hunger and thirst. You know well the pain and sorrow of those who fight desperately to protect their lives and survive. You are right in the midst of them, and you call these people “My family.” Open my eyes to our lack of understanding, so that I too may be counted among your family. Grant me the courage and strength to accept them. In the name of God who accepts us all, Amen.
