Joseph and his Lady

a short story for the Feast of St. Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I wrote this in 2008 for my old LiveJournal page. In that year, with an early Easter, both today's Feast and that of the Annunciation were moved until after the Octave of Easter, and the two feasts were back to back. This will not happen again until 2035.

Today is, however, during Lent, as is usual for this Feast. We said the Stations of the Cross a little while ago, as we do on the Tuesdays of Lent. Joseph did not live to see that darkest of days, or what ensued. But perhaps he knew, from the Angel's words, that something like this would come. "And thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins" (St. Matthew 1:21). Not "be the Messiah and kick out the Romans," not "Sit on the throne of his father David," though he will do that in due time, as the Angel had told Mary; No: Joseph's message was that this child would "save his people from their sins." And "without shedding of blood there is no remission" (Hebrews 9:22; cf Leviticus 17:11). Joseph knew this.

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Joseph and his Lady

"Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife....”

“It must be after midnight,” thought Joseph, wide awake on the sleeping mat. “And I used to sleep like a rock. Not any more.” Worry and fear . . . anger, too, at first, when Mary arrived back from her cousin's. Then, the dreams . . . “Fear not,” the angel had said. “Easy for him to say,” Joseph thought.

Tomorrow they had to start for Bethlehem. “Too many soldiers,” he thought. “They will be everywhere, with the taxes and all. And she is almost due. How will she make it there and back?” Baby or not, there was no choice. They had enough time to take the journey as gently as could be done, which was not saying much; it was a hard and long road. Joseph was worried. Why had God trusted him with something this important?

Mary jerked in her sleep. “Probably the baby kicking,” Joseph thought. He lay his hand on her belly; still sleeping, she put her hand on his. If he understood rightly, all the promises of God were wrapped up in this little child, not yet born. One suspicious soldier, one stroke of the sword, and it would all be over. Wasn't God taking too much of a chance by doing it this way, making this child, this Jesus of his, so vulnerable, and entrusting him to a teenaged girl and a carpenter?

Joseph had no doubt that Mary was up to the task. She had been in his home as his wife for about six weeks now. Every day, he saw what a marvel she was. He loved her: the way she smiled at him over breakfast, the way she sang to herself as she worked, the way she made jokes about having to go draw water by herself at noon to avoid the other women. For anyone with eyes to see, she was filled with grace; there was no other way to describe it. “But me? Plain old Joseph? How do I fit in to what's going on?”

“It is well that no one knows about this,” he thought. Joachim and Anna? Mary had tried to explain it to them, and Joseph had told them of his dream in hopes of backing her story. They were relieved that Joseph remained willing to take Mary as wife, but it was obvious that they did not believe. From what Mary said, her cousin Elizabeth and Zachariah knew, and had reasons of their own to believe that God was at work. But that was all. So far as the rest of the world was concerned, Joseph and Mary were no more than a scandal, with the child's murky parentage a juicy bit of gossip.

He snuggled closer to his wife. Her hair smelled of olives and sunshine. “Let it remain a secret,” he thought. “God is doing a mighty thing, right in front of everyone, and no one realizes it. That may be enough to get us through this in one piece.”