Part of celebrating Advent is remembering that first Christmas and all the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth. In the piece below, I try to imagine what this time was like for Joseph.
An Imagining based on Matthew 1:18-25
I admit I was angry when Mary went off to visit her elderly relative Elizabeth and never even told me she was going. It should have made more of an impression on me when she returned after three months full of miracle news. Elizabeth – like Sarah, in Genesis – had conceived after a lifetime of barrenness and given birth to a son: certainly not your everyday kind of announcement.
But that was not all. Mary was attempting to tell me that a miracle had happened to her – to us – she tried to explain at the time, but I could not hear her. I only could register that she was pregnant and I knew it was not my child. I pray I will never feel so devastated again in my life. I love Mary; I loved her long before our parents arranged our engagement. Nothing made sense if she could betray me.
I even went so far as to consult – obliquely, mind you – with our rabbi. If I accused Mary of infidelity she could be stoned as an adulteress. I could divorce her, but people would assume it was my child she was carrying and that I was quite a heel for deserting the two of them. Yet, it seemed the only way out. I couldn’t let them kill Mary – even if she had forsaken me.
The Lord knows when He has to step in and set things straight. The truth came to me in a dream – and the understanding with it – which is, in itself, another miracle. Mary was right. This is happening to both of us.
It was early the morning after my dream when I came calling at Mary’s house, eager to take her into my own. What joy – and awe – we had sharing the revelation now that the Mighty One had let me in on the secret. While I have not sired Mary’s babe, I will, nonetheless, be a father to Him, as well as a husband to His mother. Strong as she is, she needs me.
Because it’s not easy being the brunt of Nazareth’s titters. Ever since Mary’s belly began to swell, our neighbors look at her askance, and me as well, I guess.
So we don’t mind that the Romans have called my family to register in Bethlehem. The journey tires Mary terribly, and I worry that we haven’t left ourselves enough days to get there before the child comes.
But at least when we do get there, we’ll just be an ordinary married couple, looking forward to the birth of our first child. I think we’ll need as much ordinary as possible to balance the extraordinary that the Master has called us into.
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