A (Very) Short Story of Joseph of Nazareth

All in all, Joseph gets pretty short shrift in the Gospel Christmas narratives, and very little is said about him after that. He’s the quiet guy standing in the back by the shepherds and the sheep. We don’t know how long he lived but it seems clear that he did not live to see Jesus begin his ministry. He’s not mentioned after Jesus’ “missing years,” even when Mary is. 

But I like to imagine the role he played in raising Jesus to manhood — to teaching him a trade, showing him the right way to build things that last, and modeling for Jesus the best way to be a gentle man in an often-violent world. 

So imagine yourself with the opportunity to meet him. Sit on a hill with him overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Feel the breeze coming off the water and listen as he tells you the improbable but true story of how he came to be the father and guardian of the Son of God. He is a bit older now, wise in his ways, and eager to tell the story of how the whole thing started. Listen…

I want to tell you an improbable story. Even now, in my old age, I can scarcely believe all that happened to me back then, but I can never forget it. Even as other memories of my life begin to fade, there is nothing — not even the vagaries of a fading memory — that can steal this incredible story from me. It is, first of all, the story of how the birth of my son, Jesus, came about. But even beyond that miraculous day, it is a story about how I was changed forever in a single moment. I want to tell you that story. Do you have a few minutes?

It all began when I was betrothed to Mary, a beautiful young woman with so much spirit and faith and promise, but before we had lived together or had done so much as hold hands while walking in the olive grove on the hill behind her parents’ home. It was in that very olive grove on a cool spring day that she came to me with what was, at first, devastating and heart-wrenching news: She was expecting a child. 

She told me a story that, as much as I loved her and wanted to marry her, was incredulous. She said the child was a miracle, a gift, the fruit — not of an elicit encounter with another man, but through an encounter with God’s holy spirit. How I wished that could be true. But I could not believe her. I was no fool. 

But I did not want to shame her, to leave her open to ridicule or worse. I knew there was a way to sever this relationship in an honorable way, a simple decree of divorce. She would find a way to move on, to care for her child and get on with her life. That’s all I wanted for her. I made plans the next day to visit the temple to begin to quietly make the arrangements. I went home.

But that night, I had a dream unlike any dream I had ever had. A dream, but so much more than a dream. In it, an angel — it had to have been an angel — said to me, as clear as day: 

“Joseph, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” 

And when I awoke in the morning, I knew something had changed in me in that dreamlike moment I could have never seen coming. Something softened. Something opened up. I remembered the stories of the prophets, the ones I had heard since I was a child. Something in me came alive, and I began to put the pieces together. And these ancient words of holy scripture came to me from somewhere deep inside: 

“Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.”  

I knew what I needed to do. I ran to Mary’s house and knocked on the door. It was early but she was up, sitting in the corner near the fire, stirring the pot. She didn’t look surprised to see me at all. It was as if she knew I was coming and knew what I was going to say.

I held her face in my hands and she smiled up at me. I knew everything had changed. I knew I would never be the same. I said to her, “Yes. Together we will do this improbable thing. Yes.”