We know almost nothing about St. Joseph. While he is mentioned several times in the infancy stories of the Bible, he never says anything. Obviously, he was the quiet one in that family. It must not have been easy for Joseph living with a Son who claimed he was the Messiah and God's only begotten Son and living with a woman who was conceived without sin. When anything went wrong in that house, you know who got blamed. Poor guy!
Also, in this Gospel, Matthew wishes to portray Joseph as a "righteous man", as a law-abiding man who blends submission to the law with compassion for others. This is done by telling us that Joseph intended to divorce Mary- not to do so would be to tolerate evil in his midst (the assumption here is, of course, that Mary had committed the sin of fornication). By being willing to divorce Mary, Joseph showed that he loved God more than he loved Mary whom he also loved with all his heart. But Joseph planned to divorce Mary "quietly", thus not humiliating her "if he went public" Mary may have been stoned to death for her infidelity. This shows that Joseph's sense of justice is tempered with mercy.
Then Matthew tells us how Joseph's intentions were "vetoed" by God's intervention. An angel in a dream tells Joseph to take Mary into his home because the baby has been conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph obeys. The neighbors may be shocked. After all, they did not know how Jesus was conceived. You can be certain that they didn't presume that Mary's pregnancy occurred through the power of the Holy Spirit. Here again, Joseph shows himself to be a righteous man. The righteous person is the one who is obedient to God's revelation no matter how scandalous it may seem to others.
All men could find something to admire in St. Joseph as we behold him in his role as husband, father and worker. All followers of Jesus can look to St. Joseph and find in him an obedient servant of the Lord.
The following meditation was written by Gloria Hutchinson:
It was Christmas night and the obstetrician on duty in the Air Force Hospital was a Jewish doctor I'd never seen before. My own physician, a Christian, was at home with his family. I was confined among strangers whose uninhibited screams warned me I had something to dread. The nurse's crisp little comments about "not getting all tensed up" irked me. I wanted to crack some wry joke in response. But a spasm caught me and I cried out instead.
Never before had I so completely understood the helplessness of our human condition. For six hours I was at the mercy of an interior tide that swept me along like defenseless flotsam. Whenever I was rational enough to put two or three words together, I would pray, "Lord, help me" or "Let my baby be born soon." When our son finally came wailing and kicking into this world, I did not forget the pain of his coming. But I counted it a small price to pay for the life I now held gently in my hands. His face, miraculously tiny and creased like old leather, was a thing of beauty to be marveled at and cried over. We named him David because he was "beloved."
Meditation: "So Joseph set out from the town of Nazareth in Galilee and traveled up to Judea, to the town of David called Bethlehem, since he was of David's house and line, in order to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child."
Joseph does his best to make her comfortable on a bed of straw. She has endured the jolting ride from Nazareth and the rude shock of "No room" without complaint. He wishes her mother could have come with them to attend her. "Miryam, my Miryam," he says. "Forgive me for not providing a more fitting place for you. You have been so brave and I have given you so little in return. Why couldn't the census have come at a better time?" "Shush, my darling Joseph. It is God's will that we should be here in this very place. I could not ask for a softer bed or a more loving companion." Mary responds.
Joseph tucks the woolen blanket around her. He strokes her hair and hums her favorite melodies for distraction. When her labor begins, Mary grasps his calloused hands and tries to smile his worries away. "All will be well, Joseph," she assures him. "Pray with me now for this precious child is preparing to emerge." Together husband and wife pray heart-known verses from Isaiah depicting the Messiah who is to come. Whenever Mary's voice falters or she gives way to groaning, Joseph redoubles his devotion.
"While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to a son, her firstborn." Did Mary labor in sweat and agony until her child emerged intact in Joseph's trembling hands? St. Luke's masculine restraint gives us no clue. Some patristic writers of the second century insisted that Mary labored without pain.
Whatever the cost of bringing him forth, Mary knows, with one look at his redly-wrinkled infant-Savior face, that she will never again experience the pure joy of their first few hours together, hours when Emmanuel belongs not to the world by to his mother.
The Messiah is flesh of her flesh. His curly black hair, still damp from the womb. His black eyes, squinting up at her, are dark mirrors of her own. His irresistible baby smell fills her senses and surpasses the finest frankincense. She cuddles him to her breast and knows that she is more exalted than the Herods or the high priests.
"She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger..." then Mary and Joseph kneel beside the golden Child who is the world's peace. Laughingly, they take turns kissing his rosy soft head and embracing one another.
Response: Call to mind a nativity experience in which you brought forth a new life that gave you joy: a child, a work of art or craft, a friendship, a special liturgy, a healing or reconciliation, some sign of God's creative power working through you. Ask Mary to increase your appreciation of the creative act that often requires of us a dying to ourselves, a painful laboring, a long preparation. Seek her intercession in recognizing what new life you are now called to bring forth.