The Ultimate Road Trip: Finding Holiness in the Detours
The Myth of the Perfect Christmas
If there is one movie that captures the absolute, unbridled chaos of trying to create the "perfect family memory," it has to be National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. You know the scene. Clark Griswold has worked for months to create the ideal, old-fashioned family Christmas. He wants the lights to work, the tree to be magnificent, and the family dinner to be a moment of pure harmony.
But what happens? The tree catches fire. The turkey is so dry it implodes when carved. And, of course, Cousin Eddie shows up uninvited in an RV that he is emptying into the storm drain. Clark’s breakdown at the end of the movie is legendary because it’s relatable. He screams about how he wanted everything to be "perfect," but the reality of family life—with all its eccentricities and messy relationships—got in the way.
We laugh because we see ourselves. We have this image in our heads of what our family should look like. We want the Instagram photo where everyone is smiling and matching. We want the "Hallmark Movie" Christmas. And when the baby screams during Mass, or the teenager rolls their eyes at Grandma, or the car breaks down on the way to the in-laws, we feel like we’ve failed. We feel like our family is "broken" compared to the ideal.
Refugees in the Night: The Reality of the Holy Family
Then, we come to church on this Sunday, and we look at the statues of the Holy Family. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. They look so peaceful. So perfect. So… porcelain. The plaster statue of St. Joseph never looks stressed. The statue of Mary never looks like she hasn’t slept in three days.
But today’s Gospel from St. Matthew (Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23) shatters that porcelain image. If you think your Christmas travel plans were stressful, look at the first "family road trip" of the Holy Family. They didn’t travel in a minivan with heated seats. They didn’t have a reservation at the Holiday Inn. They were running for their lives.
"Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt."
Imagine the adrenaline in that moment. Joseph wakes up from a dream in a cold sweat. It’s the middle of the night. He has to wake Mary, who has a newborn infant. They have to pack whatever they can carry and disappear into the dark. They are fleeing a government that wants to kill their child. They are becoming refugees in a foreign land—Egypt—a place where they don’t speak the language and have no support system. This is not "Silent Night." This is a survival thriller.
The Uniform of Holiness: Patience and Forgiveness
If Clark Griswold lost his mind because the turkey was dry, imagine the stress Joseph was under. The "Holy" Family was not holy because their life was easy. They weren't holy because everything went according to plan. They were holy because of how they responded to the chaos.
This is where our Second Reading from St. Paul to the Colossians (Col 3:12-21) becomes our roadmap. St. Paul gives us the "uniform" for a holy family. Notice, he doesn’t say, "Put on a perfect smile." He says:
"Put on then, as God’s chosen ones… heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another."
Why do you need patience? Because family life is difficult! You don't need patience when everything is perfect; you need patience when the toddler paints the wall with spaghetti sauce. Why do you need forgiveness? Because family members hurt each other. "Bearing with one another" implies that there is a burden to be borne—that your spouse, your parents, and your children will have quirks and faults that weigh on you.
St. Joseph didn't have a script. He had to trust God in the dark. He had to practice patience when the donkey was slow and humility when he couldn't provide a warm nursery. The holiness of the Holy Family wasn't found in the absence of problems; it was found in the presence of Love amidst the problems.
Honoring the Fragility of Life
We also see this dynamic in our First Reading from Sirach (Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14). It speaks about honoring our father and mother. It says, "My son, take care of your father when he is old... even if his mind fail, be considerate of him."
This is the other side of family life. It’s not just raising children; it’s caring for aging parents. It’s the "Sandwich Generation," caught between the chaos of teenagers and the frailty of grandparents. Sirach reminds us that "kindness to a father will not be forgotten." When we care for the difficult members of our family—a parent with dementia or a child with struggles—we are doing something profoundly sacred. We are atoning for sins and storing up treasure in heaven.
Call to Action: Loving in the Mess
My challenge to you this week is to stop comparing your family to the "airbrushed" version of the Holy Family. Instead, look at the grit of the Holy Family. Look at the dust on Joseph’s sandals and the worry in Mary’s eyes that turns into trust.
- Fathers and Husbands: Be the protectors. Not just of physical safety, but of the emotional peace of your home. Like Joseph, you might not have all the answers. Lead your family anyway, even if it means making hard sacrifices.
- Mothers and Wives: You are the heart of the home. As Colossians says, let the "peace of Christ control your hearts." When the chaos swirls, you have the power to set the temperature of the room. Your patience is the glue.
- Children and Teens: Sirach is talking to you. Your parents are imperfect people trying to navigate a "Flight to Egypt" world. Cut them some slack. Honor their sacrifice, even when they annoy you.
The Holy Family teaches us that holiness is a contact sport. It happens in the minivan, the waiting room, and the moments when you forgive your brother for the third time today. Don't wait for your family to be perfect to love them. Love them in the mess. Protect the Christ Child in your home, even if you’re living in a temporary "Egypt." Because if you have Love, you have God. And if you have God, you have everything.
