Christmas: some thoughts on "her husband, Joseph..."

“…and her husband Joseph, being a just man and
unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce
her quietly. But as he considered this, behold an angel
of the Lord appeared to him in a dream saying: Joseph,
son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for
that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she
will bear a son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for
He will save His people from their sins…”
–Matthew 1:19-21

In the Gospel story, Joseph fades from view.  He's mentioned a few times at the beginning of Matthew and Luke, but after the nativity and the return from Egypt, he's pretty much done. Nothing. nada. Zilch.  And yet, with that name, he clearly starts off right. Like his patriarch namesake, Joseph is a dreamer; someone God speaks to through dreams.  And, like that other Joseph, this one also pays attention to his dreams.  He listens and does what the dreams tell him to do: he takes Mary into his house and becomes "her husband," –even uproots his entire life and livelihood and flees to Egypt just to protect her and her baby because of a dream.   

            When I went to confession a couple of weeks back, I was given the penance of reading the first two chapters of Matthew and contemplating the role of Joseph.  I have always been a a little troubled by Joseph. I imagine how he must have felt when he learned that Mary was expecting a baby. The sense of betrayal and of his own foolishness for trusting her. How that must have stung his ego; he was an upright man, a just man, an honorable man. Why would this happen to him? Why would God let this happen to him?  And yet, wanting to spare this young girl disgrace, he chose to divorce her quietly and informally, when he could have demanded that she be lead out of the city gates and stoned for such a breach of morality (not to mention marital etiquette).

            I've even wondered sometimes, what if Joseph hadn't paid attention to the dreams? What if he were more like us today; what if he rationalized everything the minute he awoke? What if he were like that other famous Christmas season dreamer: a certain Mr. Scrooge? Imagine what would have happened if Joseph had responded the way Scrooge responds to Marley’s ghost:  Angels? Bah, humbug!  Why should I listen to you? You’re probably nothing more than an undigested bit of lamb, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone pita. There's more of hummus than of Heaven about you, whatever you are! 

            I’ve always wondered how I would have reacted.  Maybe something like this: Why me? This isn’t the life I was planning. All I wanted was a wife and a dog and a mortgage and a subscription to Netflix!  Why should I be raising someone else’s kid? And the kid’s teen-aged mother! I’m an honorable man, an upright man… I’m a school librarian, for heaven’s sake! What will people think? What will they say? And what on earth will I do in Egypt? No. I can’t do that. I won’t be made to look a fool! It’s not right. It’s not fair! This is my life, and it’s my choice how I live it. I won’t do it!

            In our world today, fairness and choice are the godheads we worship above all other -- except maybe pleasure (ah, there’s our modern trinity). And yet, when we hear this story, we accept without question that Joseph did what the story tells us. That he didn't sit around whining about how unfair it was. How God wasn't respecting his personal autonomy...  We just accept it. Joseph had a dream and then he did what the dream told him to do. No questions asked.  But, how often do we ponder what that means… not just theologically, but personally. What does that mean to you, personally? What lesson do you derive from Joseph’s example?

            For me, I think it is this:  it’s not about me.  Look at Joseph. He fades from view, and in the end becomes little more than “her husband.” 

            Yes, God is asking hard things from him. And yes, in today’s world hardly anyone would recommend that he listen to that voice and do what it says. We probably would recommend that he seek therapy? And try some psychotropic drugs... but, at best, we'd go along with being compassionate and helping an unwed mother find a safe place to live; perhaps a charitable shelter.  And it would be generous of him to make a donation of some kind to that organization. Of coure.  But who would recommend that he take the young lady into his home and make her his wife?  That would be like throwing your whole life away.  She got herself into this situation... It’s not his problem.

But, for me, that seems to be the point.  It’s not about him. 

So, if I want to give my life to God, then my life isn’t really about me. Yes, I have gifts and I have talents and I have plans for how I want to use them. That’s fine. It’s good. It’s honorable. I still have that dream of writing the great American novel.  Or winning the Nobel prize for poetry! I still dream of fame and success and glory.  But, don’t you think Joseph dreamed of becoming a great and famous carpenter?  And yet, at some point we have to put away childish things… Joseph put aside his plans, his personal dreams, and --at some point-- started listening to God's. And because he did, he became “her husband,” and slipped into the shadows –yet, 2000 years later we remember this: he gave up his personal plans, his personal dreams, in order to receive God’s. 

Like Joseph, we need to open our ears (and our hearts) and start listening– God has a plan for you (and for me; for every single one of us) and it may seem small, and insignificant… but believe me, if it’s from God, you won’t want to miss it.  

           

A kind of confession, a kind of revelation

 (this is a scene from a story I am working on)

“I know. I know, my boy.  So it seems. Hopeless.  But think of this. When Abraham was about to lose everything, God sent an angel to comfort him and stop his hand. When Moses was cast into the desert, a burning bush appeared to him and when Job was utterly lost and without hope –even from his friends—what happened?”

“What?”

“God answered him.  Not in words, not in reasons, but by revelation. God revealed Himself to Job. That was His answer. Job was a good man who suffered unjustly –we would say—suffered not because he had done anything wrong, but simply because bad things happened to him.  And what was the result, my dear?”

“Yes.”

“What was the result?”

“Yes.” Henry felt his chest begin to tremble. The sense of emotion and anxiety and dread and a sudden euphoric joy overwhelmed him. His voice broke as he repeated, “Yes.”

“Oh dear. Yes. You’re right. It was something beyond. A vision of God’s splendor. You’ve heard people speak of the transcendent, haven’t you?  Yes. Dear me. I know you have. You’re not a fool. I know that.  But, do you understand? God didn’t answer Job in human terms. Not in the way that Job and his friend were thinking of an answer. No. They were all good men, so to speak. Don’t you imagine? They all had good intentions. But God said to Job: Gird up your loins, and then as… well, by way of… yes, well, then He… what does God do? He… well, He challenges Job. But, you understand. Don’t you, my dear? You understand God wasn’t being mean. He wasn’t belittling Job.  No. No. Dear me. God doesn’t work that way. He was simply, and transcendently –yes. Yes. Very transcendentally… revealing Himself in all His splendor… all His glory.  Think about those images: the storehouse of the snow, the pedestals of the earth, the great and terrible behemoth –Who can put a hook in his nose?—and the birthing of the gentle mountain goat… the womb of the seas, telling the water it may come this far and no more… Do you understand? It’s all so amazing and wonderful. It’s all so awesome in the actual sense of that word. Not like the kids would say: an awesome movie! You know? But awesome in the sense of, well… awe inspiring. Truly awe inspiring. And what happens? What does Job do?”

“He places his hand over his mouth…”

“Yes. Yes. That’s right and he says though I spoke before I will not speak again. He is truly and utterly…”

“Yes…” Henry whispered.

“Yes. Yes. That’s it.  People often think this is because Job realized he shouldn’t challenge God. He shouldn’t ask God to defend Himself.  But that’s all wrong. People often mistakenly say that the answer Job gets is that things are too big for people, even someone as great as Job, to understand. As if God were chastising Job and putting him in his place.  As if God were saying to Job: what right have you to question me?  But Job isn’t a book about an inscrutable God and His unfathomable ways.  It is a book about suffering –though ultimately, you see, not about misery—No. No.  It’s about the power of suffering. The –what does Peter call it? …the refiner’s fire. Job endures the refiner’s fire. Unjust sufferings, seemingly endless miseries, and never learns why… and yet in the end what happens?”

Henry simply stared, unable to speak.

“He gets a glimpse of the truth; of God’s glory.  Don’t you see?”

“Yes.” He whispered.

“Is it possible? Is it possible, my dear friend, that God reveals Himself through His cross? Through the cross we come to understand God. Through our own part in that cross we come to understand Him; not intellectually. I don’t mean that. But to –in a way—taste a moment of His –what? Glory? I think taste might be a better word because we don’t really think of understanding a cheeseburger, but when we taste it we know what it is and we even know something of its splendor. If it’s a good one, of course. I have to say I do like a good cheeseburger. Yes. Ruby Red. Oh, the peanuts. Yes. Oh dear. Oh dear. I miss Ruby Reds.”

Henry chuckled. “Yes, Father. Me too.”

“I just… oh dear, me.  But. Do you understand what I am trying to say? I am trying to say that perhaps the story of Job isn’t about the suffering itself but about the experience; and in the end --do you see?—it’s about what comes of it.  Is it possible, dear dear Henry. I know I’m not supposed to know who you are, but you know I do. I’m sorry.  I do.  Is it possible that what you are going through, and of course it is a kind of crucible, I know that. I know. Yes. I know.  Oh dear… But is it possible that God is trying to reveal Himself to you? through this? Through your wife’s suffering. Through your job? Through your struggle? Even and maybe especially through your brother. Oh, dear Henry. You are Job.  If ever I knew one, you...  I pray for you often. Daily. I do. But, am I just like one of Job’s friends? Am I just a foolish old priest making pompous statements about things I don’t understand? Oh, Henry. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Don’t listen to me. What do I know about wives and sufferings. I was an only child and now I’m an old priest. And you, you my son… I think you are a saint. In the making, at least. Oh dear. Dear. Dear, me. I’m sorry. Sometimes I just say things. I don’t know why.  Do you pray to Joseph? Pray to Saint Joseph. If anyone will understand your troubles, it will be him. Pray to him now. As your act of contrition. Please. Let us do this together. Both of us.”

It runs in our blood --Jacob & the family trade

“…Joseph recognized his brothers…” –Genesis 42:8

I am still reading Genesis (for a librarian –I am a very slow reader, though there is also the excuse of new kittens in the house).  And, of course, this is the eternal word of God, so what’s the hurry.

Having just reached the story of Joseph, it intrigues me that the “trickster” theme continues in this part of the Jacob narrative.  It is as if the family business were tricking people and we see that “trade” played out again and again in these stories here at the end of Genesis.  First Jacob takes advantage of his brother’s hunger and careless way with words to steal Esau’s birthright, then Rebekah and Jacob trick Isaac into blessing him (masquerading as Esau), then Laban (Jacob’s uncle) tricks Jacob into marrying the wrong daughter (Leah) before giving him (also) the one he was promised (Rachel). Then Jacob tricks Laban and Esau (again), and now we see Jacob’s children employing the family trade in their treatment of each other.  The brothers plot against Joseph –who is carried off to be sold in Egypt-- and then trick their father into thinking he’s been killed by a wild animal. And now, this morning I am reading that Joseph (the sweet and wonderful and miraculously wise and chaste Joseph) is playing tricks on his brothers.  It is as if the family cannot help themselves. It is in their DNA.  Trickering runs in their blood.

When the brothers come to Egypt seeking food (because of the great famine), Joseph recognizes them, but they don’t recognize him and thus begins the great trick that will end with the saving of Israel as Jacob/Israel and all his people move to Egypt to live with Joseph. And, of course, we know how that story ends… Charlton Heston comes to the rescue!

                But, what interests me here is this: what lesson is God teaching us through these stories?  What lesson are we to derive from the story of this trickster family who play a key part in God’s plan?  God seems to dearly love this family that lies and steals and manipulates each other.  And through them He founds His people?  What does that tell us about our relationship to God? And what does it tell us about His relationship to us?  I think this is something I will need to wrestle with for a long time.