When Jesus walked this earth, we might say that he belonged to two families. First, there was his heavenly family: his unique and intimate relationship with God the Father, whose will shaped everything Jesus said and did. But Jesus also belonged fully to an earthly family. He was the son of Mary and Joseph, surrounded by other brothers and sisters who are mentioned in today's Gospel reading. Like us, he knew the bonds of family life. Blood is thicker than water, as we say. We can therefore imagine that when his mother and relatives came looking for him, their presence mattered deeply to him.
Yet Jesus used that very moment to reveal something completely new. Pointing to those who listened to Godâs word and tried to live by it, he declared that they too were his mother, his brothers and his sisters. He was not rejecting his earthly family; he was opening the idea of a family far wider. Around himself, Jesus was gathering a new family, bound together not by blood but by faith and love. This is the family that became the Church. In Christ, people who might otherwise have nothing in common become brothers and sisters, united by their love for Him. Christianity therefore asks us not simply to call one another brothers and sisters, but to treat one another as such: to care, forgive, support and stand beside each other with something of the same devotion we naturally show those closest to us.
Murillo brings us into the home of Jesus' earthly family, the Holy Family as though we have quietly stepped through the door on an ordinary day. There is nothing grand or ceremonial here. Mary has paused from her spinning, Joseph sits with the young Jesus beside his workbench, and at their feet a little dog looks eagerly upwards. Jesus holds a goldfinch in his hand, teasing the dog with it in the way any child might play with a family pet. It is a wonderfully tender domestic scene. Murillo allows us to imagine that much of Jesusâ childhood must have been made up of moments just like this: work, play, affection and the simple routines of ordinary family life.
Yet the little goldfinch introduces a more solemn note. In Christian art, the bird became a symbol of Christâs Passion, partly because goldfinches love spending time in thorny bushes, referencing Christ's crown of thorns. The red markings around its head, further associate a goldfinch with the blood of Christ. The dog, meanwhile, was traditionally associated with faithfulness and loyalty. So even within this apparently ordinary family moment, Murillo quietly points towards what lies ahead: the child playing so innocently will one day give his life for us, remaining faithful to the Father to the end.
