12/27/2025
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph: Refugees
No parent wants a feeding trough for farm animals to serve as a crib for their newborn baby. No parent wants to receive the news that the most powerful person in the land wants to kill their newborn baby. And no parent wants to walk across a desert with their newborn baby.
Yet such is the story of the Holy Family.
The first days of the life of Jesus are full of wonder. There are angels and shepherds, stars and magi. But there are grueling journeys, stinging rejections, and violent plots, too.
Imagine the fear and confusion of these young parents. It is one thing to receive the good news that they would give birth to and raise the Savior of the Universe. It is quite another to face the real-life consequences of this message. From the moment of his birth until his death on the cross, Jesus would be a sign of contradiction.
The early life of the Holy Family is that of political refugees. To stay in their land is to risk assassination. To go into exile is a horrible and cruel choice, but it is also the best choice given the circumstances.
So they leave everything behind. They cross the desert--the same desert that their ancestors had crossed to pass from slavery in Egypt into the Promised Land. The trajectory must seem like a regression for the young family. Didn't we leave Egypt to find freedom? Why must we return? Things are not going as planned.
They don't know when they will be able to return. Perhaps Joseph works a few odd jobs to get by. He is a carpenter, so he might take on construction projects as a day laborer. Mary educates Jesus in the religion of the Jewish people, which is not the dominant religion of Egypt. They make friends with other Jews in diaspora in Egypt, but they are in the minority. They speak with an accent. They worship differently. They are outsiders.
Maybe this experience is what makes Jesus so attentive to the plight of outsiders when the Holy Family returns to Israel. Jesus was one himself. He reads the words of the Hebrew Scriptures, "You shall not mistreat a foreigner, neither shall you oppress him, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt," and the words have a special resonance for him. How could he forget his childhood? Jesus is sensitive to suffering, to precarity, because he lived it himself.
The flight of the Holy Family into Egypt has a special meaning for us today. As climate change, economic inequality, war, and other types of violence ravage the world, millions--like the Holy Family--are forced into exile. These people are victims, not invaders. They have made a difficult, harrowing, courageous decision which is often really not much of a decision at all. Oppressive circumstances force them to flee.
May we take special care of migrants and refugees. Think of the neighbors who might have helped Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in Egypt. Who was there for them when they needed a friend? Who housed them? Who showed them the ropes? Who loved them?
What we would do for Jesus, we must do for others, especially for the most vulnerable. As Pope Leo said the other day, "On earth, there is no room for God if there is no room for the human person. To refuse one is to refuse the other." So let us love one another.
As we approach the altar today, we might consider how we can commit to support migrants, refugees, and other marginalized people in 2026. A new year is coming. How will we love in 2026? How will we make room for God by making room for others, especially for the poor?
Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family
