Just beachy—and the gift of friendship in families

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | Jun 18, 2024

It’s an odd feeling to have an ocean beach just two blocks away, but I suppose it is one of life’s unexpected perks. Our oldest granddaughter is completing a Masters degree program in theology at Notre Dame, and for the “practicum” portion of the program she was sent to help out at a parish in Jacksonville, Florida. There she met her future husband, and this past Saturday they conferred the sacrament of matrimony on each other in the course of a beautiful Catholic Mass. Most of my side of the extended family—bereft of bride and groom, who have mysteriously disappeared—are now left to splash in the waves (or wilt on the sands) of Jacksonville Beach.

Now you may consider this a blessing. Some of us are staying in a small beachy cottage, built in 1934, the walls of which are covered with (enjoyable) kitsch—signs and images that say things like, “If you’re lucky enough to be at the beach, then you’re lucky enough.” Unfortunately I’m a redhead (well, I used to be a redhead) and a bit of a grump on the burning question of the value of intense sunshine. (Kermit had it wrong, by the way: It’s not easy being red.) I know the invention of sun block—so conveniently developed after my childhood—has made a great difference, but perhaps my granddaughter and her new red-headed husband will not spend their honeymoon on a beach.

Still, even I have to admit that it is a tremendous gift to be gathered together in a group of intentionally Catholic families who all share the same values across the generations. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that creates a relaxed happiness in which wholesome delight banishes boredom. In this case, the ages among the 24 persons present range from 1 to 76. Whenever we experience this we should be mindful both of our own blessings (which surpass what we have deserved) and of so many who, with or without any fault of their own, simply have had little opportunity to experience this precious earthly reality, which is nearly always at least subconsciously ordered to the glory of God.

The love embodied in family life is supposed to be a foretaste of the connections embodied in the love of God—Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit—through which we are all meant to be infinitely connected, including Mary the Mother of God Incarnate, and all the angels and saints. The number of those united in this way rises to far more than 24. But in our earthly Catholic joy we may not always be mindful of those who have not yet been initiated into this being-in-love.

From God, through the family, to others

Inescapably, this recognition calls to our minds the situation of isolated persons and families who have almost no opportunity to experience such an exquisite sense of human solidarity across the generations, no examples to follow in creating and raising their own families, and perhaps even such a dearth of Christian family life that they have few chances even to trace the essential pattern of it for implementation in the decisions which determine the course of their own lives. Added to the sacraments, this is actually one of the most important values of good Catholic parishes, that is, to provide opportunities for various age groups to make friends and even to interact in familial ways.

Although I am a bit a of a loner and usually do not take the lead in socializing, I have tremendous respect for those gifted with the knack of making friends readily and of drawing them into other friendships and family connections which expose them to—no, immerse them in—what appears at first glance to be an effortlessly Catholic way of being, a way characterized not by pleasure but by joy. Again, I can see the importance of this gift, though I very often lack the knack of offering it beyond the extended family circle. Nonetheless, this is a genuine extension of what Our Lord meant when He initially said to His disciples, “I have called you friends” (Jn 15:15).

Now what is the essence of this friendship? “I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you.” But our Lord initiated those who were drawn to him, first and foremost by inviting them to share his way of life, and so grow simultaneously in the gift of friendship with God. “Where are you staying, Lord? Come and see” (Jn 1:39-9). This is what happens when we invite others to experience the joy of Catholic life at every level, and particularly at the level of the Catholic family. Familial joy is not only infectious but healing, not only healing but inspiring, and not only inspiring but invigorating unto eternal life. It is an initiation into the law of the gift that lies at the very core of holiness. It is an initiation into what it means to be a son or daughter of God Himself.

There is a famous passage from the first letter of Peter which we often cite in connection with defending the Faith: “Always be prepared to make a defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence; and keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are abused, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame” (1 Pet 3:15-16). But there is an even more important way of living this maxim, which is nurtured in Catholic family life and extends from family life into the personal lives of saints. It is a great and wonderful blessing, both to ourselves and to others, to live a kind of family life that, despite its ups and downs, is filled with reverence, gentleness and hope. This is its own sort of Christian testimony, and despite those who avert their eyes in the search for personal satisfaction and pleasure, it offers an attractive and infectious witness, indeed an almost overwhelmingly powerful witness, to the joy of life in Christ.

The family law of the gift

Now I am not bragging about my own family, and do not wish to be thought to be bragging. In fact, to brag about blessings is to suggest they are of our own making, when typically all they require is our cooperation. Each member of a joyful Catholic family knows he has received more than he has given. After all, ultimately in our human weakness we can only do so much, and the rest must come from our bountiful Father in Heaven in accordance with the particular plan by which He chooses to draw each and all of us to Himself. But to receive gifts, we must recognize the difference between a gift and a snare, and we must be open (that is, disposed) to receive true gifts.

For most of us, at one time or another, this means we must recognize and embrace them instead of running away from them. Huge numbers of people, even in formerly Christian societies, have not had the opportunity to recognize them, and in fact have been carefully taught a selfish, individualistic ethic which makes them suspicious that the most important gifts are really just traps. This notion that only by preserving a rather selfish, independent freedom from commitment can we preserver our happiness is actually one of the Devil’s greatest lies, the very symptom of his fallenness, and the snare in which he hopes to bind us all.

But it is precisely here that our own way of life, the life of our families, and our openness to extending the gift we have received becomes so tremendously vital to others. It is most often through the life of the family, including the extended family, that both we and others learn the very sharp difference between pleasure and joy. We cling to mere pleasure at our peril, because it means rejecting that all-encompassing joy which comes from God alone. Both children and adults absorb this lesson through a deeply Catholic family life. It is an experience that makes all the difference to each family member and, shared with others, can make all the difference to those outside the family circle. It is the beginning of that rich life in the family of God which is meant to last forever.