A year or so ago, I remember our pastor telling a story in the homily about visiting the dentist, and the dentist sharing that he can always tell the direction in which a person brushes their teeth: top left, top right, bottom right, bottom left, center top, center bottom…or whatever the order. The dentist noted that the succession is apparent because 1) brushers tend to start strong and and get softer over the course of the two minutes, and so wherever they start has the least plaque build up, but also the most gum recession, whereas wherever they finish has the opposite issue, and 2) we are creatures of habit. If we switched our brushing order every day, the gum wear and tooth shine wouldn’t accumulate in such a distinct pattern, but because we tend to do the same thing every day, our habits become noticeable. 

The dentist told our pastor that it’s in the best interest of our teeth and our gums to be a bit more conscious of our brushing; it’s great that we brush so regularly that we no longer think about it, but we could stand to spend our teeth-time a bit more mindfully. 

Our pastor likened this to prayer, and particularly in regards to reciting prayers like the Our Father and Hail Mary. Prayer is prayer, and on the one hand it’s great if we say these words so regularly that they’ve become second nature. On the other hand, it could serve our minds and hearts well to actually pause to consider the words and their meanings as we say them. 

I think that this same idea can apply to so many areas of faith, from the actions (kneeling, standing, folding hands, etc.), to the words (of prayers and other parts of the Mass), to the images (the crucifix, icons of saints and important moments like the Last Supper). Repetition breeds habituation, for better and for worse, and it can be a helpful practice to pause every now and then to look a bit more closely at the aspects of our spirituality that we eventually take for granted. 

In honor of this time of year, when we remember the journey that Mary and Joseph made to Bethlehem to give birth to the Christ child, and the tender, scary, sacred time they spent as a family in the manger, I want to take some time to reflect on the Holy Family and what they mean to me — and to families everywhere, I believe — as models of living faith. 

The Holy Family Delighted in One Another

I love this image of the Holy Family because of the joy that radiates from each member’s smile and eyes as they behold the faces of the others. Mary and Joseph were happy to be parents, this image tells us. Jesus was happy to be here, it also says. 

As a parent, I often forget to prioritize delight in my family. I would never miss packing a lunch, or bringing a child to a pediatrician’s appointment, or ensuring that uniforms are clean and homework is completed. I bring my kids to church and I read parenting books to learn strategies for addressing behavioral issues. I hug my kids and tell them I love them daily, and I provide for the material needs of my family by working outside the home. But days go by when I don’t take time to relish in the joy of being a family. Joseph, Mary and Jesus remind me that this, too, is a part of being a holy family. 

The Holy Family Supported One Another

In this depiction of the Holy Family, their arms are wrapped around one another, artfully demonstrating what we know through Scripture: the Holy Family cared for each other’s emotional and material needs. The Gospel of Matthew tells us how Joseph led Mary and their baby son the long way home through Egypt to keep the infant Jesus safe from King Herod’s wrath; the Gospel of John tells the story of Jesus listening to his mother and turning water into wine at a wedding feast, despite not necessarily feeling inspired to do so on his own accord; and all four Gospels make clear that Mary was present for the most painful experience of Jesus’ life, his crucifixion. 

There are countless ways that we can show up for the members of our families — we can keep them safe, like Joseph; we can honor their preferences, like Jesus; and we can offer love when it’s the only thing left, like Mary — and the Holy Family reminds us that we are called to do so. 

The Holy Family Welcomed Others In

I’m at the childbearing phase of life, as are many of my friends, and a question we always ask one another when one is about to deliver a new baby is whether or not visitors will be welcomed at the hospital. Now, I’ll be the first person to admit that I preferred to keep my hospital time to me, my husband, and the new baby. We had a visitor or two with each birth, but I was by no means issuing an open invitation. 

I don’t see keeping our hospital days calm and intimate a problem, truly, but I do notice within myself a tendency to extend this attitude beyond the postpartum era, and to become insular at times, as far as family life goes. I resist having houseguests because I don’t want to mess up our kids’ routines; we don’t host many playdates because the chaos can be overwhelming; when we do have folks over, I kick everyone out as our kids go to bed because I want to protect my alone time. Boundaries and limits are important, I know, but I do think I can be over-boundaried at times, and I do well to remember Mary and Joseph opening their arms to the shepherds and the wisemen — and a whole bunch of animals, for that matter! — after the birth of Jesus, and to extend some hospitality myself. 

Whatever season of life your family may be in, the Holy Family provides an inspiring example of how to extend care and love within your family and beyond. May you feel close to the Holy Family this season and learn from their example.