Mary had a fiancée, which is way too fancy and romantic a word. There were no wedding planners, photo shoots or engraved invitations. They simply were betrothed, committed to marriage. Without picturing anything overly romantic, we can be sure Mary cared deeply for Joseph – and especially after his gracious dealings with her. Matthew 1:19 portrays him as “virtuous.” Was he a titan of holiness?
We know he was something humbler and harder: he was merciful. We can only guess at the terrible swirl of emotion he felt, maybe anger or even revulsion, when she told him what was unfolding. Surely he overheard whispers around town, and was targeted with chilly stares. Somehow he didn’t jettison her and the impending marriage. He remained still, and constant. He was quiet and prayerful enough to jive with God’s Spirit. He stayed. He was merciful. Was there any of Joseph’s mercy in Jesus’ mind when, as a grownup, he said “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy”?
Joseph was a carpenter, or stone mason; a builder. He was a dreamer – as in God spoke to him through dreams, urging him not to be afraid to marry Mary, and then to be afraid of Herod and flee with his young family to Egypt. I wonder about their arrival in Bethlehem, coming upon siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles also summoned by Caesar for his census. Was there whispering among those who did the math on Mary’s large belly? Did she have to urge Joseph to remain calm?
Every Christmas pageant has a Joseph, but he never gets a speaking part. He just stands, gazing, holding the donkey’s reins. No acting skill required. He’s just there. He embodies the best we can give to one another and to God. He is present, and attentive.
He’s in a few carols we may not know all that well, like “St. Joseph’s Carol,” “When Joseph Went to Bethlehem,” or the lullaby “Joseph Dearest, Joseph Mine.” Sometimes when we sing the best of all Christmas prayers, “Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay close by me…” I think of Joseph.
In “Angels we have heard on high” we sing “Mary, Joseph, lend your aid.” God came down and became a vulnerable child, in need of much tender care. Mary and Joseph held God in the flesh, nursed, rocked, fed him. They aided our Lord – just as every time we offer aid to the poor, the needy, the lonely, we aid our Lord.
Notice the word “lend.” In older English if you “lend” you are simply giving, offering: “Lend me a hand!” But when we think of “lend,” it’s a loan. You give something, you invest, you expect it to come back to you, and in fact good lenders loan and get the investment back with interest. Mary and Joseph “lent” aid to Jesus, and what they got back was the son of all sons, the king of kings, life and salvation in the one they rocked during the night. When we “lend” aid in his name, and out of love for him, don’t we receive back more than we could ever have given?
We presume Joseph died before Jesus began his public ministry, as he is unmentioned in the Gospel stories. Imagine his obituary, before people figured out who Jesus was. Carpenter, nobody really, died last Thursday.
How did he die? In backwater Nazareth in the first century, you died at home. Surely Mary and Jesus were there, by his bedside. I picture Jesus holding his father’s hand, wiping his brow, saying those words that need to be said at such times, and lifting his eyes in prayer. When Joseph breathed his last, Jesus saw. He shed tears, and kissed him goodbye.
Each one of us hopes that, at the hour of death, someone, or a few someones we treasure, will be there to love us, to say Goodbye, to shed a tear or two. We are like Joseph – but since it is Jesus who was by his bedside, and he eventually became the Risen One, I can be quite sure that if my loved ones aren’t there when I leave this good earth, I will not really be alone at all. Standing there will be Emmanuel, God with us – who learned that glorious art of being near from his earthly father Joseph.