Our family members know our virtues and our faults

    An old saying has it that “familiarity breeds contempt,” and several passages in Scripture seem to bear this out. For instance, in Matthew 13:57 Jesus says, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and in his own house.” The next verse spells out a significant consequence of such contempt-laden familiarity: “And he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith.”
    So, what has this to do with the Year of Family and Faith? A clue lies in the words “family” and “familiar.” With whom are we more familiar than the members of our own family? After all, most other people’s contact with us is limited to times and places in which we have the opportunity to compose ourselves, to “put on our best face.” The multi-billion-dollar cosmetics industry is predicated on the desire to do precisely that; to optimize one’s appearance by applying layers of various colors and finishes to highlight one’s best features while hiding or minimizing those deemed less attractive.
    However, those with whom we share bedrooms, bathrooms, and breakfast tables often see us in a far less flattering light. No one can maintain a facade 24/7, so members of our families often have a warts-and-all view of us. It is precisely this kind of familiarity that can, and too often does breed contempt – although in the context of the Christian family, it ought to give rise to, among other things, the virtue of humility and the corollary practice of forgiveness.
    Rather than focus on this aspect of familiarity and contempt, however, I would like to explore for a moment something far more fundamental: the mystery of the human person. Tempting as it sometimes is to think of ourselves as “only human,” one antidote for the contempt that can arise from excessive familiarity lies in pondering what wondrous creatures we human beings are. Although we are made from the dust to which we shall one day return, our species is also a marvel of creative potential.
    Human beings have conquered the depths of the ocean and not only flown higher than any bird, but have also left footprints on the moon and the tread marks of robotic explorers on the surface of Mars. And this suggests but a few of the achievements of human creativity; the reach of such creativity extends far beyond the technological. One need only ponder one’s favorite novel, painting, symphony, or film: each of these arises in and finds expression through the fertile imagination of a single human being (even if, as in the case of the symphony and the film, the final artistic product involves the cooperative interaction of dozens or even hundreds of people).
    And yet, it is not difficult to imagine the parents or siblings of Ludwig von Beethoven, Jane Austen, Steven Spielberg or Spike Lee scoffing at the notion that their child, their brother or sister could ever accomplish anything significant. Interviews with notable achievers often reveal the nurturing support of parents and families who encouraged them from an early age, but they also often disclose the contempt born of familiarity, the attempt to throw cold water on the nascent fires of creativity and artistic aspiration.
    Parenting can sometimes be a delicate balance between nurturing dream-drenched visions of future greatness and helping a child become grounded in practical reality. However, one way to achieve the proper balance – avoiding the extremes of contemptuous familiarity on one hand, and the encouragement of baseless fantasies on the other – might be to look inward.
    Which of us does not know himself or herself to be something far more, something far deeper, more complex, more mysterious than we have yet managed to express or reveal to others? Indeed, who among us believes that we even know ourselves fully, let alone make ourselves fully known to our spouses and children, or truly believes we know all that there is to know about them?
    The wonder of the Incarnation is that the infinite God could assume our finite human nature without compromising either humanity or divinity; in becoming fully human, Jesus did not cease to be fully divine. Theologians have therefore dared to tell us that every human being has the God-given potential to enter into the life of the Trinity.
    Who are we, then, to regard with contempt those closest to us? Rather, we are called to see and to nurture in them, in ourselves, and in others the loftiest of all human aspirations – to be holy, as God is holy. Although familiarity can breed contempt, family can and ought to breed saints.
    Walter Bonam is associate director of Evangelization and Catechumenate (RCIA) for the archdiocesan Office of Religious Education.