A Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph 
Readings: Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14  Colossians 3:12-21 or 3:12-17  Mt 2:13-15, 19-23 

History calls him Herod the Great, but no one could call him a family man. To gain the Judean throne through a second, politically expedient marriage, Herod banished his first wife Doris and their young son Antipater. And they were the fortunate members of his family! 

Both praised and excoriated, this convert to Judaism magnificently rebuilt what became known as the Second Temple, the one Christ purged. But like many a ruler before and since, Herod maintained his reign through horrific violence, even against his own family. Constantly fearing conspiracies, he ordered the deaths of his second wife, his mother-in-law and his three eldest sons. 

No, the great King Herod was not a family man. He sought a strength that comes from power not fraternity. For him, nothing was more fragile than family. But then, what is more fragile than family, before and after Herod? 

Most of us know of Herod because of the family he threatened. St. Matthew tells us: 

When the magi had departed, behold, 
the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 
“Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, 
and stay there until I tell you. 
Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.” 
Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night 
and departed for Egypt (2:14-14). 

The same evangelist also records the death of the Holy Innocents.  

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi,  
he became furious.  
He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity  
two years old and under,  
in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi (2:16). 

First-century Bethlehem would have had fewer than 1,000 inhabitants. There would have been perhaps 20 boys there and in the surrounding territory who thus suffered such cruelty. And given how infamous this tyrant was for atrocities, it is not surprising that a small-town slaughter never entered other historical records. What is more fragile than family? 

Our culture’s Christmas remembers only the birth in Bethlehem. Not what followed in its wake. St. Matthew’s infancy narrative is considerably darker because it was composed in the light of Christ’s death and resurrection. This evangelist will not let us forget that a child has come among us to suffer and to die for our sins. Thus, Matthew’s memory of an ever-manipulating Herod, the flight into Egypt, the massacre of the innocents, and even the gift of myrrh, which one of the Magi brings to the newborn King of the Jews. As we hear in “We Three Kings,” 

Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume 
breathes a life of gathering gloom; 
sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, 
sealed in the stone-cold tomb. 

What is more fragile than family? Yet the church insists that Christ did not simply appear among us as a fully formed man. No, he was born into a poor family. He would never have survived, never become the God among us he was meant to be, without the love and protection of his parents, Mary and Joseph.  

Two thousand years later, we can still ask, what is more fragile than families? They were again massacred on Oct. 7, 2023, in Israel, and thousands of Palestinian families have suffered since. So have countless families in the conflicts of Ukraine, Myanmar, Somalia, Sudan, Ethiopia and the Congo. And families still flee their homes just to survive, if they can. 

Clearly, modernity is not much better at protecting the family than antiquity, though it is more adept at quickly moving on from the memory of suffering, of violence.  

“The Coventry Carol” is a Renaissance hymn about the massacre of the innocents. It couples the love and tenderness of family life with the terrors that have ever surrounded it. How many mothers might sing the same today, knowing that they cannot save their children? 

Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child, 
Bye bye, lully, lullay. 
Thou little tiny child, 
Bye bye, lully, lullay. 

O sisters too, how may we do 
For to preserve this day 
This poor youngling for whom we sing, 
“Bye bye, lully, lullay?” 

Herod the king, in his raging, 
Chargèd he hath this day 
His men of might in his own sight 
All young children to slay. 

That woe is me, poor child, for thee 
And ever mourn and may 
For thy parting neither say nor sing, 
“Bye bye, lully, lullay.” 

Societies are built upon families, but these do not always support them. And even the most blessed of families still suffers from sin and its effects. Sometimes, families turn on themselves. No one can love us like family, and no one can hurt us like family. And ultimately, even the strongest of families are destined to flourish and fade. What is more fragile than family?

But today we remember that the Son of God made the family the portal of our salvation. He was born and raised in this most frail of vessels, making our own human indigence his own.  

What is more fragile than family? And yet Christ made it the first receptacle of our redemption. He and his family suffered greatly. Yet their anguish, and the resurrection it birthed, has become the great hope of family life. 

The Rev. Terrance W. Klein is a priest of the Diocese of Dodge City and author of Vanity Faith.