~ Where are you from? I mean, where is your family from? You know, originally?

We’ve all heard terrible or embarrassing stories where Americans ask that of others who may have an accent or a different skin color. People ask, sometimes innocently, sometimes with an agenda, and then they are surprised, or aggravated, when others say they well, I’m from Chicago, or Atlanta, or a little town in upstate New York.                                                                                                                                           I wonder if Joseph, or Mary, or Jesus were ever asked that question. Was Joseph asked this in Egypt? Did they ever feel totally safe there, or were they always on edge? Jesus is from Bethlehem, born there – but for some part of his childhood, he and his parents were in Egypt. 

When they finally are able to go home, Joseph and Mary head back to Judea to settle as a family, but the Scripture says it isn’t safe there either. They finally settle in Nazareth. Now, as an adult, the Scriptures say that Jesus’ hometown was Capernaum. So where was Jesus from? Does it matter? Does it ever matter?  

The most recognizable image of the Holy Family is the softly lit manger scene, but it’s this story of fear and fleeing, of the long way to find a home, that many families can relate to. Too many people know what it’s like to have to move, not by their own choice, but fleeing from war, violence, political danger, poverty, or the multitude of other needs that force a family or person to migrate. The United Nations reports that there are over 120 million displaced persons in the world, a record number. These are men and women and children – families, holy families – from Ukraine, Syria, Venezuela, Somalia, Myanmar, Sudan, and many other nations. And our Gospel on this Christmas day reminds us that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were once migrants, too.

Catholic Church moral teaching has long advocated for the rights of migrants and refugees, and Pope Leo has made this one of the centerpieces of his fledgling pontificate. I have been so proud of the way that this parish advocates for migrants in our social outreach. Now, Catholic teaching about migration stresses three main points:

First, People have the right to migrate to sustain their lives and the lives of their families.

Second, A country has the right to regulate its borders and to control immigration. 

And third, A country must regulate its borders with justice and mercy. 

Here’s the thing: it’s all of those. Not just one or two that we like. People have the right to migrate. A country has the right to regulate its borders. And that must be done with justice and mercy. All that. Is our nation doing all that, or can we do better?

This gospel story, like the real world, is most difficult. This scripture includes grieving parents, violent and insecure tyrants, and real people just trying to get by and find a home. So, where’s the good news? Especially as we start a new year, I don’t want to be a downer. So, where’s the hope and the light?

Well, first is the simple, empowering truth that people who are migrants, refugees, or needing a home, can find themselves in scripture, in the Holy Family themselves!

Second – through all the tumult and drama Mary and Joseph live through, God does not leave them. No, God is right there, nudging and pointing them to safety, in the thick of it, the nights of travel, the stress; for not one moment of it does God leave their side. We may fear sometimes that we leave God behind or that we won’t be able to find God in the new place. But God shows up there. This holds a blessing that God is with anyone who must be on the run, and with any of us when we move on to something new.

Almost all of us take down our nativity scenes after Christmas and store them until next year. But the Gospel account of the Holy Family’s trials suggests that perhaps we should put away the shepherds because they returned to their fields, and put away the magi because they returned to their distant home, but we should keep out Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Just the three of them, all alone. No visitors. No stable. No cuddly looking sheep. No friendly oxen. Then we could move the Holy Family to another location. Perhaps to a window looking out on the larger world, where there is still violence and terror, and where there are refugees fleeing, needing protection, needing a home. Then, all year long, Jesus, Mary and Joseph could be an example and hope for all who might need it.

Maybe, then, we could begin to see the Holy Family waiting for assistance from Catholic Charities or talking to an immigration attorney at Catholic Legal Assistance Ministry. Maybe we could start to see the Holy Family in a detention camp in the Rio Grande or at Alligator Alcatraz. Maybe we could see the Holy Family in every family looking for a place to call home.       

Maybe this gospel might soften us to anyone looking for a home – be it the safe place to live, or raise one’s family, or even something as simple as a safe place to eat lunch, or a church that feels like home. Friends of St. Margaret: this year, in the new year to come, and always, the good news is that God is with those searching for home. In some ways, that’s all of us, and in other ways, that is the least among us. May our Christmas charity extend to all those searching for a place to call home.