Christmas from the Other Side

The birth of Jesus through the eyes of Joseph

Baby Shark didn’t belong in the manger scene; but there he was, sitting near Joseph.

A couple of days before, my daughter had carefully arranged the scene on top of her piano then sent me a picture of her handiwork. Baby Jesus was surrounded by adoring shepherds, worshipful wise men, cows, sheep and, of course, Mary and Joseph. But as I looked at the picture more closely, I realized there was an additional figure hiding in plain view, one so unexpected that I laughed out loud when I realized out who it was.  It was Baby Shark, the cartoon character loved by almost every preschooler, slipped in among the more familiar characters by my youngest granddaughter when her parents weren’t looking. I’m sure my daughter explained to her daughter that Baby Shark didn’t belong alongside baby Jesus and used the moment as an opportunity to talk about the authentic figures who did belong there.

But as much as I admire my granddaughter’s creativity in manger scene design, it isn’t Baby Shark who intrigues me. It’s Joseph, Mary’s husband and the earthly father of Jesus. That enigmatic figure who’s a vital part of the story of Jesus’ birth but compared with everyone else is relatively unknown.

What do we really know about Joseph? His name is mentioned only a handful of times in the Bible and through all the miraculous events surrounding his son’s birth, there’s no record of anything he says. He seems to be more a man of action than of words. Then, after the first few years of Jesus’ early life we never hear of him again. Like so many other biblical figures, Joseph seems to be a bit player in God’s drama of redemption. Yet he has a central role in the Nativity account. Without him, Mary has no one to protect her and her son, no one to make a living for their little family, no one to provide a safe place in which Jesus can grow into his destiny, no one to be a dad to Jesus as he grows up.

The first time we encounter Joseph is at the conclusion of Jesus’ genealogy in the first chapter of Matthew’s gospel:

…and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ. (Matthew 1:16)

Joseph is the link between Jesus and the generations that came before him. His strategic position in that history reminds us that, while God works in our lives by different means, our extended families are among the most important. While faith is a personal experience, the truth is that our extended families set the stage for it.

One of the most startling discoveries I made as a young man wrestling with a call to ministry was when I came across the baby book that my mother had put together shortly after I was born. She was nineteen years old, and I was her first child. On the first page, there was a faded photograph of a baby in a basinet and underneath she had scrawled a few simple words. “I have a son,” she wrote. “His name is Michael. I pray he will do God’s will.” I learned later that her own parents—my grandparents, had gone through a radical salvation experience when they were young parents during the depression. And before them, my great-grandparents (I have only a dim recollection of them) were also devout people. It’s not that we inherit our parents’ faith; each of us must come to terms with that on our own. But the Bible is also clear how our extended families can either set us up for success or predispose us to failure. Joseph, as a faithful part of the larger story of Jesus’ family, helped prepare his son for all that was to follow.

The second time Joseph is mentioned is a few verses later when he learns that Mary is pregnant.

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 1:18-19)

Joseph’s response to Mary’s condition is more than meets the eye. At first, he sets out to do what anyone else in his day would have done and break the engagement—shame was deeply engrained in Jewish ancient culture and an unmarried woman who became pregnant was a scandal. But following instructions from an angel, he continues on with the marriage. Even with what must have been a surge of disappointment and maybe even anger over what appears to be Mary’s unfaithfulness, he doesn’t want to shame her; and once he receives divine direction he does what his heart was telling him to do anyway. I believe Joseph’s response is explained by simple human kindness. He was a kind man, and his kindness helped make room for Jesus in his life and home.

Kindness isn’t just the expression of simple courtesy, respect and generosity—although in today’s world of suspicion and resentment we could certainly use more of that quality. In the Bible, though, kindness has a deeper, more spiritual resonance, one that flows from God’s nature into the human heart.

A third incident in Joseph’s life gives us another look into his character, maybe the most important of all. Sometime after Jesus’ birth when hostile political forces threaten Joseph’s small family, God sends an angel with a message:

…an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child, and flee to Egypt…’” And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt. (Matthew 2:13-14)

Joseph doesn’t know all that’s going on with the world or with God’s plan for his family. But down through the years he’s nurtured a faith sensitive enough to God’s voice to know it when he hears it. So, when in the dead of night, that voice speaks clearly and urgently, he doesn’t hesitate. He wakes up his family, throws their meager luggage onto a donkey and sets out for parts unknown. Joseph’s action mirrors that of his wife Mary when she first received the angel’s promise of her pregnancy—he said yes.

The last glimpse we have of Joseph is a few years later, when Jesus is twelve years old and he and his family join a group of pilgrims traveling to the temple in Jerusalem for the Passover Feast. On the return trip home Mary and Joseph realize that Jesus is nowhere to be found among the crowd and rush back to the temple in panic only to find their son calmly debating theology with the professional religious teachers. But even then, it’s Mary not Joseph who speaks:

“Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” (Luke 2:48)

After this incident, the Bible has no further information on Joseph. We aren’t given any more information about his life, his career, his death. But judging by the character of the divine figure he raised in his home, Joseph must have succeeded in doing the one thing God put him on earth to do: serve as an adoptive dad to the Son of God.

But where the Bible is silent, the church hasn’t forgotten Joseph; and through the years a number of church fathers as well as more recent theologians have dived more deeply into this remarkable man and what his example has to teach us today. While I don’t agree with all of these views of Joseph, I think they’re interesting. At the very least, they give a sense of his lasting influence.

For all believers, Joseph is a model of fatherhood. His example of spiritual maturity, personal kindness and quiet faithfulness to his family is a model to every dad today who wants to be faithful to his children and see God as work in and through his family.

Among some Christian groups Joseph is regarded as the patron saint of workers. With his quiet and dedicated commitment to providing for his family, he provides a model and spiritual example for men today.

New Testament scholar Tobias Siegenthaler says that another way Joseph is a model for modern parents is how he points his son beyond himself to God:

…the father Joseph has a son who does and does not look like the son of Joseph. There may be some resemblances, but ultimately he looks like the son of God…To be a father, then, may mean that I have to let go of my desire to have a child according to my image. Not in my image, but in the image of God is the child made. Ultimately, I have to allow my offspring to be a child of God himself

And then there’s the bizarre way some people view Joseph as supernatural help for desperate home sellers and their realtors. In the early 2000’s the strange practice emerged of burying images of Joseph in your backyard if you wanted to sell your house, to the point where some realtors were buying Joseph statues by the bagful. Americans have a knack for combining consumerism and religion in remarkably offensive ways.

But beyond these different perspectives on Joseph—some more from folk religion than historic Christian theology—there’s another one that moves in an entirely different direction. Both Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches see Joseph as a saint and believe him to have a special kind of spiritual authority. I’m not endorsing that theology; but I don’t find it a far reach to acknowledge that the man must have had unique traits in order for God to entrust to him the raising of his own Son. And that’s just how, for example, the Litany of St Joseph describes him:

“Illustrious Son of David…Foster-father of the Son of God…Head of Holy Family…Mirror of patience, Lover of poverty, Model of all who labor, Glory of family life…Mainstay of families”

But from that point, the Litany of St Joseph moves in an entirely different direction, one that attributes to Joseph a higher level of divine power and a greater degree of spiritual authority than most of us would expect.

Solace of the wretched, Hope of the sick, Patron of the dying, Terror of demons,
Protector of Holy Church

I thought when I first read those words, what on earth can they mean? To say that Joseph is the “terror of demons” seems to make him into more a spiritual super-hero than the humble and quiet father described in the Bible. But then I realized how, in the modern world where demonic attacks are before our eyes in the broken families, abandoned children and young adults without hope, maybe Joseph is just what we need. Maybe this man who knew his God deeply and loved his family well has much to teach us about living holy lives in an evil age.

Joseph shows us the other side of Christmas. The side not as well known or as openly celebrated but just as important. The side where the promise of Jesus’ birth comes to those with a quiet heart, a humble spirit.