Today we celebrate the feast of the Holy Family of Nazareth, Joseph the artisan, Mary the young maiden and their unusual child, Jesus. Nature surprised them when she went into premature labour on a census journey. Impoverished refugees, they fled the wrath of the tyrant Herod to Egypt. The world was being turned upside down. The very land that enslaved their ancestors becomes a safe haven for the hunted baby. At the death of Herod, and on the hunch of a dream , Joseph again packs his bags again and returns to the land of Israel. However, Joseph discovers that Herod has been replaced by his son Archaelus as dictator in Judea. No great improvement, so Joseph takes Mary and their young child to the town of Nazareth.

So the circumstances of the Holy Family were far from rosy, far from romantic. Because we have inherited the notion that the family of Nazareth was surrounded by singing cherubs since the day of his birth. Shepherds and Kings fell at his feet in adoration. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, with frankincense to boot. All of these images surround the Nazarene family with a sacred aura that does them little justice, and deadens the resonance they could have with us.

No, they were no different to our own lot. They had their own tensions and troubles, their own faults and failings, just like our own crowd. The divine destiny of their young child must have been experienced as a great burden. How could you trust a dream? How can any of us trust our dreams? How often must Joseph's dream have returned to haunt the parents as a great nightmare? As we see from today's gospel, the dream brought them face to face with suffering and exile from the very beginning. This whole divine-human project is horribly ambiguous. There is not always a clear line of demarcation between the dream and the nightmare.

The same holds true for our own families. The parents dream can often be the children's nightmare, and vice versa. Or indeed siblings can have images and expectations for their fellow siblings that will be nightmares for the victims! We expect each other to carry flags for each other. We are all burdened with notions of what is acceptable and what is respectable. This can give rise to stupid and silly little confrontations. For example, you go home to your own crowd with a beautiful head of well manicured hair; a sister and a sister-in-law descend upon you and you emerge looking like down-market version of Father Sinead O'Connor. You may not like it, but if you do understand that its done out of love, you accept it and don't make an issue of it.

The family is our bedrock. It gave us shape and form. Our emotional and spiritual lives are either enriched or impoverished because of our experiences there. Whatever ability we have to forget the self and reach out in love to others has been learned there. Our capacity for love- to receive and to give- is utterly dependant upon our education there. I use the term 'educated' advisedly. It has its roots in the Latin verb 'educere', to lead out. We are led out from the shell that enclosed us to reach out to others in love.

Because our families are the first source of our love, they will also unfortunately be the most intense source of our suffering. Inevitably, we will all one day be called upon to stand, as Mary did, at the foot of the Cross. Paradoxically, if there was no love, there would be no Cross. And that call will be made to every family on this earth. But if we have loved well, and have been loved well, we will find the strength to stand there in grief, but in awe too. Because God is love.

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