A few weeks ago, during a family workshop, I asked couples to bring a favorite family photo. One Marine brought a photo of his family on the beach, his kids smiling, his wife laughing, the sunset perfect behind them. But as he showed it to the group, he said, “This was taken two days before deployment. We were all smiling, but inside, we were scared.” Then he paused and added: “Every photo has a story you cannot see.” And that, dear friends, is true, not only of Marines, but it is true of every family here. Every family photo hides a story. A story of joy and pain. Of love and misunderstanding. Of laughter and tears.
In today’s Gospel passage, we see another family photo: Mary, Joseph, and the Child Jesus. To the world, they might look blessed, peaceful, and glowing. But behind that photo was a storm. Joseph is shaken awake by an angel: “Get up! Take the child and his mother and flee to Egypt!” Imagine the panic that night. No time to pack. No GPS. No safety plan. They grab what they can and run, not toward comfort, but toward survival. That is the real story of the Holy Family, not one of comfort, but courage. They were refugees in Egypt, Africa. They knew fear. They faced uncertainty. And yet, they stayed together.
Every family, like theirs, has its own Egypt, that season when life does not go according to plan. When the plan changes in the middle of the night. When someone loses a job, or a deployment stretches too long. When the doctor calls with bad news, when the child you love starts to drift away, when the spouse begins to act strangely, when the laughter fades. We all have our Egypts. But listen carefully: The Holy Family’s story tells us Egypt is not the end of the story. It is part of the journey. It is the chapter that shapes your faith, your patience, your trust, and your love.
At that family workshop I organized for Marines, one spouse said something that stayed with me. She said: “When I hear my husband’s story, not his excuses, but his story, I fall in love again.” Stories have power. Because behind every action, there is a story. Behind every silence is a story waiting to be told. Maybe that is why St. Paul, in our second reading, tells us: “Put on heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” In other words: Before you judge, listen. Before you speak, understand. Every argument in a marriage could change if both sides stopped long enough to say, “Tell me your story, what is really going on?” That is what God did in Jesus: he entered our story. He did not shout advice from heaven. He came down and lived it with us. That is love that listens. That is love that understands.
If your family feels like it is living in exile right now, do not give up. If home feels tense, or conversations feel like landmines, or love feels distant, do not despair. The Holy Family reminds us that holiness is not the absence of struggle; it is the presence of love amidst it. Your story is not over. You may be in the middle chapters, the Egypt chapter, the confusion chapter, the silence chapter, but God is still writing. Remember: the angel told Joseph, “Rise, take the child and his mother.” Do not run away alone. When life gets hard, do not run from each other. Rise together. Take the child and your spouse. Take your family. Keep writing the story; together.
Here is a simple challenge for this week: a “Holy Family Exercise.” Sometime before next Sunday, sit down as a family, even just for 10 minutes. Ask one another a simple question: “What is one story that made us who we are?” It could be a funny one. A painful one. A moment of grace. And then end by saying: “Thank you for being part of my story.” Because families that tell their stories stay connected, and families that stay connected survive every Egypt.
At the end of the Gospel, the angel tells Joseph, “Get up, and go back to Israel, those who sought the child’s life are dead.” They go back not as the same family, but as a stronger one. They left as refugees; they returned as witnesses to God’s faithfulness. So, if your family has been through fire, through distance, through loss, maybe it is not a sign that God left you. It may be a sign that he is preparing you to return stronger. Because holiness is not about having a perfect story, it is about having a redeemed one. And the Holy Family is proof that no matter how dark the chapter, God’s story always ends in resurrection.
Today, as we honor the Holy Family, remember this: behind every family photo lies a story. And if God is part of that story, no matter how messy it gets, it is going to be a beautiful one.
Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph Year A 2025
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