Cruising by the Midway Drive-in: A Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family

           If you are fan of Harry Potter, you may recall a scene from “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” in which Harry comes upon a big mirror in an empty room at the academy where he attends school. He looks into the mirror and sees, not himself, but a beautiful woman and a handsome man. They are smiling and waving to him!
           He suddenly realizes that these are his parents whom he never knew since he was orphaned as a young child. Later in the story, Professor Dumbledore explains that this is a magical mirror, one which reflects the deepest desires of our heart.
           This might describe today’s feast. Surely, the image of the Holy Family in the manger scene is a reflection of our most strident longings: an innocent child, a loving mother and a courageous father.
           Yet we know that the real world is not some magical mirror. More importantly, the Bible is not a children’s novel nor is the Gospel a make-believe Hollywood Movie.
           Speaking of movies, you may know that I live near Quitaque, not far from Valley School. On the highway between the school and the town of Turkey, stands an abandoned drive-in theater.
          The letters on the marquee say, “Closed for Winter.”  Well, for the Midway Drive-in, winter has lasted over fifteen years! Weeds are tall, the paint is faded and large sections of the giant screen have blown away.
          Sometimes, when I drive by that drive-in, I imagine films starring beautiful women, brave soldiers, rugged cowboys…and happy families. Driving on, I shake my head. So much for “Hollywood magic.”           
           Scratch the surface of any magical mirror you’ll discover how much an orphan you truly are. If reading the Bible and receiving Communion are viewed in a similar vein, is it any wonder that abandoned churches are becoming as common as abandoned drive-in theaters?
           Yet, the fact is that, despite that misconception of the Christian faith, you and I have gathered here today.
           Why?
           Why do we bother coming to church when there are more entertaining shows on Netflex?
           The answer is that the Holy Gospel is more than a happy story. And the Sacrifice of the Mass is the antithesis of entertainment. Why? Because, unlike Hollywood stars, the Virgin Mary teaches us that weary mothers are among the most beautiful of women. And St. Joseph demonstrates that worried fathers are among the most heroic of men.
           The Gospel does not feature orphans gazing into magic mirrors but actual orphans being clothed and fed against impossible odds in places like Nigeria and the Gaza Strip. The Gospel is the story of addicts achieving recovery at Hutchinson County Rehab Center and paramedics bandaging accident victims alongside Highway 136.
          The Gospel is the back-story of rival gang members now embracing each other during Mass at the Mechler Prison over at Tulia; the narrative of a teenager wiping away tears of relief after going to Confession on a Saturday afternoon; the denouement of a mother lighting a candle, knowing—someday, somehow—she’ll hold her miscarried child in her arms in heaven.
          How shallow the world of entertainment, yet how profound the gift of life when lived within the Church! Real life. Real love. Real hope.
          A reality as red as the blood of Christ. A reality as weighty as the wood of His Cross. A reality as robust as the sacrifice of this Mass—and the offering of your very own life—for the salvation of the world.