This morning I was reading a homily by St. Gregory the Great (d. 406) on Matthew 12:46, 50, the story of Jesus' family's vain attempt to visit him while he was preaching. Jesus' reply to those who were no doubt nudging and whispering and waving to get his attention to tell him that his mother and kinsmen were waiting outside was, "Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?....Whoever does the will of my father who is in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother." A bit hard on his mother, but surely she of all people understood.
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean-favoured and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good Morning!" and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich, yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine -- we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked and waited for the light,
And went without the meat and cursed the bread,
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.