Family matters . . . but not as much as we think!

              Not long ago, I was at a social event with several people I didn’t know, most of whom were younger than me.  I’m no fan of small talk, but there are times when it’s required, and this was one of them.  My new acquaintances and I discussed the usual topics.  What do you do?  Where are you from?  How long have you lived here?  Blah, blah, blah. 

Then one woman asked another, “How many kids do you have?”   

To which the other responded, “Four . . . but sometimes it feels like fourteen!”

“I hear ya, and I just have my three.  You must meet yourself coming and going,” New Acquaintance #1 declared.

“Some days I can’t remember my own name!” New Acquaintance #2 was happy to have found a compadre.  They went on to discuss the challenges of getting kids to soccer practice, the ridiculous amount of homework kids have today, and the eternal struggle to keep siblings from pounding on each other.

“Oh, Lord, yes!  As soon as I broke up that fight in the living room, I heard the little one wailing from the bathroom because the older one I left in charge locked her in there!”   New Acquaintance #1 had also found a kindred spirit.

“You said it!  I swear, if I’d have know how difficult it would be, maybe I wouldn’t have had all these kids,” New Acquaintance #2 said.  “But really, I wanted my kids to have each other once Brad and I are gone.  I just couldn’t think of not giving them siblings.”

As luck would have it, that’s precisely when they seemed to remember that I was standing there.  Oh, if I could have just slithered away before they noticed, but I hadn’t figured out how to do that.  New Acquaintance #1, suddenly aware of the need for more inclusive conversation, said to me, “I know your kids are older.  How many do you have?”

Only Children

When I said “One,” they looked at me like I had told them my son’s father was Elvis.  And that he was still alive and living with us at a local commune.  You know when people – women, at least – feel awkward?  It’s easy to tell.  They have these anatomically awkward smiles frozen on their faces.  My new acquaintances looked at me with those rigid, awkward smiles.

“That’s great!” New Acquaintance #1 proclaimed.

But I got them – and me – off the hook.  “Oh, that’s my husband over there.  I’ll be right back,” I explained and moved away from the frozen smile women.  I didn’t go back.

Honestly, it’s not been frequent, but I have had a few instances in which people seem incredulous at the idea that I would have only one child.  That fact seems to make them more uncomfortable than it does me.

However, it’s the opposite situation in today’s gospel reading.  The Creed we say at Mass says that Jesus is the “only son of God.”  But Mark’s gospel today says, “Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary, and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us” (6: 3)?   Later in the New Testament, Paul also writes, “Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to confer with Cephas and remained with him for fifteen days.  But I did not see any other of the apostles, only James, the brother of the Lord” (Galatians 1: 18-19).

              Scholars have long debated the meaning of these lines.  Some say that Mary and Joseph went on to have other children after Jesus.  Others say that Mary was Joseph’s second wife, so Jesus had older half-brothers or half-sisters.  Some say the use of “brothers and sisters” in these lines really means disciples.  The official word from the Catholic Church is that Jesus had no siblings and that Mary was a perpetual virgin. 

              I guess my question is . . . does it really matter?  I don’t think so.  Would Jesus’ message and ministry somehow be “less than” if his mother was known to have had sex and born other children?  For me, the clear answer is no. 

One and Only

              We humans have a need to identify importance through exclusivity.  Something that is “the one and only” is, by definition, the very best.  If the original can be copied, then its brand takes a hit.  If a generic option is available, the original looses value.  I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that the Church may have used the language of exclusivity to advance a truth about Jesus’ “specialness,” not a truth about his historical family of origin. 

              And when all is said and done, it doesn’t really matter.  For me, nothing about Jesus would change if I found out for sure that he did have siblings.   There’s nothing wrong with being an “only child.”  But there’s nothing wrong if Jesus weren’t one.