“Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary
as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 1:20b)
So who is this guy Joseph? There’s not a
whole heck of a lot the Bible tells us about him, but Matthew’s gospel for
Advent Four (Matthew 1:18-25) calls him a “righteous man.” He discovered that his
fiancé was pregnant—and not by him! In the world of the text, this wasn’t very
good news. If Joseph was really observant of Jewish law (see Leviticus 20:10),
he’d be perfectly within his rights to drop the dime on Mary and have her
stoned to death for fooling around with another dude. If he was really so “righteous,”
wouldn’t he respect the law and rat her out for adultery? I mean, the law is
the law, right?
Yet old Joe doesn’t do this. He chooses,
instead, to let her get away with what he believes to be her crime and shows
her mercy. This speaks pretty loudly
to me. It suggests to me that when the New Testament talks about righteousness,
it means something far greater than just observance of the law. True
righteousness has to be about mercy, forgiveness, compassion, and love. It also
has to be about acceptance, as Joseph is moved by his angelic visitor to accept
a child who is not his own flesh and blood. His righteousness even extends to
consideration of his wife’s physical needs since he respectfully abstains from
newlywed nookie until after her baby is born (verse 25).
You have to admire the guy. Granted, as I
said above, there’s not much we know about him. Scripture says he was a
carpenter, and he was certainly a good dad as he protected Jesus from Herod in
Matthew’s gospel and took him to Jerusalem for Passover in Luke’s account.
After the Passover trip, however, he disappears from the story. Church
tradition has sometimes held that Joseph was older than Mary and so left her
widowed pretty early on. By the time Jesus starts his public ministry, there’s
no mention of Joseph. It’s also been speculated that Jesus’ siblings were
really Joseph’s kids from a previous marriage, and that Joseph never had any children
(or even sex!) with Mary. That’s if you’re into the “perpetual virginity” doctrine
about our Lord’s mom. I’m not sure the Bible really suggests this, but, hey! If
it floats your boat, go with it.
What I really respect about Joseph—and certainly
resonate with—is that he’s one terrific step-dad. Fatherhood, even if the kids
are your own issue, has got to be hard enough. Choosing to love a child and assuming everything that comes with
that child takes a truly righteous ability to love.
I never mind when someone in the community
addresses me with the title of “Father.” Granted, Lutheran clergy haven’t used
this title for a long time, but I think it’s one of the most respectful offices
to which any man can aspire. Pastors and priests have something in common with
male parents—we all have complete
responsibility for something over which we ultimately have no control. And who’s
to say that we don’t actually become family to the children in our charge?
My stepdaughter was all grown up by the
time we came into each other’s’ lives. My Godchildren, nieces, and nephews grew
up way across the country from where I live. I knew them as infants, but they’ve
become adults in a shockingly short period of time without much—if any—interaction
with their Uncle Owen. But for eighteen years I’ve watched the children of my
parish grow, learn, graduate, get jobs, marry, have kids of their own, etc.,
etc. I’ve learned that there are lots of different ways to be “family.”
Like Joseph, we are all called upon to
adopt strangers as our own. I’d be willing to bet that all of us have more than
one father or mother. We’ve had teachers, coaches, scout masters, uncles and aunts,
neighbors, and various non-blood relations who have grappled us to their bosoms
with steel hoops of love and understanding.
This beautiful pre-Christmas story in
Matthew’s gospel reminds us of the interconnectedness of our human family. All
children are our children. All are children of God and members of the family.
Lately, our public discourse here in the good ol’ US of A has emphasized the “otherness”
of some of the children of this planet. I think this is a good time to remember
that real righteousness goes beyond nationality or even blood ties. The children
of immigrants, the children of Aleppo, the children of South Sudan and Flint
Michigan are ours, too. In Christ, there is no “us” or “them.” There is only “us.”
Thanks for reading, my friends. And here’s
a shout-out to all the other step-dads out there. God bless you in your
parenting, and may the Lord make you a teacher and example of righteousness.
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