Joseph: Royal, yet so human

Sermon given by the Rev. Christine Gowdy-Jaehnig on 18 December 2022

Year A : Advent 4

Isaiah 7:10-16 * Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18 * Romans 1:1-7 * Luke 1:18-25

Late on Christmas Eve in 2015, retired teacher Betty Barker answered the phone. A man on the other end said, “Hello, is this planet Earth?” She answered, “No,” thinking it was a prank call or a reveler who had had a drink too many at the pub. There was silence on the other end so she shrugged and put the phone down. She learned the next day that she had actually spoken to Tim Peake, the first British astronaut to go up to the International Space Station. He had been there only a few weeks and had called the Barker home by accident. Mrs. Barker’s frame of reference wasn’t big enough to include space and the station. She was concerned with the terrestrial: the mundane worries and customary joys. A call from beyond the atmosphere was not in her playbook.

Nor is a message from God in Joseph’s playbook. Joseph the carpenter, by tradition not a young man, is in a legally binding relationship with a young woman named Mary, a betrothal. He finds out that Mary is pregnant and decides to end their relationship. In the 3rd century and very likely in Jesus’ time, Jewish law considered adultery during the betrothal period a more serious sin than adultery during the marriage. Although Jewish law said Mary could be stoned, Joseph decides to divorce her privately to spare her the worst. He knows that even so, she will be shamed and perhaps ostracized. The text calls Joseph righteous because of this choice, and his care for her well-being is commendable. His disbelief of her story that the pregnancy is the work of the God’s Spirit of God is understandable. Jewish law says a woman’s word is worthless; she can not be a witness. On the personal level, Joseph may hardly know her and what she claims is –after all-- so very out of this world.

God’s message to Joseph comes in a dream. In it, God confirms Mary’s story. God tells him to go ahead and marry her. The child she carries will be called “God saves,” and, “God with us.” When Joseph awakens, he changes his plan, and completes the marriage process. Mary and the unborn child are now part of his household and under his care. Joseph says, “Yes,” to God.

Ahaz, King of Judah, on the other hand, says no. The lectionary makers may have paired this Isaiah reading and the gospel reading because of the sign God gave Ahaz: a woman pregnant with a child who was named, “Emmanuel.” It is Ahaz, however, who draws my attention. Ahaz was in a tense and scary situation, threatened by the invading armies of Israel and Aram. He was eyeing regional power Assyria as a strategic partner. God said, “Don’t worry about those two kings,” and offered Ahaz a sign – a down-payment on God’s intentions to be with His people and care for them. But Ahaz refused to bring God into his deliberations. He preferred to trust in the might of Assyria and, thumbing his nose at God, sent gold and silver (not only from his royal store, but from the Temple itself!) to the Assyrian Emperor.

Over and over God calls people into relationship with Himself. He seeks to partner with us in his work, for God prefers to work from the inside of Creation. God, in fact, is so committed to this way that God trusts Himself to the riskiness of human childbirth and infancy. In a culture like Mary and Joseph’s, which places a great deal of value on a man’s honor, the risk is even greater. This has potential for violence against women who are dependent and vulnerable. To participate in God’s work of salvation, Joseph has to give up the ordinary expectations of a male head of household in a society in which men have the privilege and power. Instead of lord of his own household, Joseph would become a servant to Mary (the theotokos – the God-bearer) and her son, and become a small footnote in her son’s coming kingdom. He would hardly be that if Matthew hadn’t told this story. Joseph, who in his culture was expected to be first, would be last. The existence of the child threatens Mary and Joseph’s relationship with each other place, as well as their place in their community and synagogue.

We modern people tend to gloss over this aspect of Jesus’ genesis, keeping the holy family a little hazy and surrounded by soft light and gentle music. It is, however, akin to what can happen when one partner becomes a Christian and the other does not. A parishioner told his priest about such a situation when he did not yet have faith, but his wife had become a Christian and joined a charismatic church. She shared with her husband some of her experiences and, as time went on, he began to feel like she was having an affair with the Holy Spirit. Some of her descriptions he thought sounded dangerously like –as he put it-- “what we used to have.”

Medieval people were more realistic or imaginative about the challenges Joseph faced. There is a carol called The Cherry Tree; the earliest reference to it is in the early 1400s. In the carol Joseph and pregnant Mary are out walking. They come to a cherry orchard and Mary says:

“Gather me some cherries, for I am with child.”

Then Joseph flew in anger, in anger flew he,
“Let the father of the baby gather cherries for thee.”
Then up spoke baby Jesus from in Mary's womb.
“Bend down the tallest branches
That my mother might have some.”
And bent down the tallest branch.
It touched Mary's hand. Cried she,
“Oh, look, thou Joseph, I have cherries by command.”

God says, Sacrifice your reputation in order to keep her alive and well; then she will be able to keep this special child alive.” Joseph chooses not to be afraid, nor let his frustrations and worries influence his decision. He does not prioritize his own identity and standing in the community; he takes Mary as his wife. Naming the child, he acknowledges the baby as his own.

We can not know, we can only hope, that Mary and Joseph overcame the bumpy unconventional start to their domestic partnership and grew to respect and even love each other. If they did not, they have a lot company, including Biblical company. In the first 17 verses of his gospel, Matthew gives the ancient equivalent of an ancestry.com report. As we read it we see that God has always worked through messy and broken families: Jacob cheats his brother of his birthright; Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery; Tamar pretends to be a prostitute in order to conceive a child with her deceased husband’s father; Ruth is a foreigner; David murders a man to avoid a scandal about another child’s surprise existence. Yet, God has a way of working despite failure, sin and sorrow, bringing hope and restoration: Tamar gives birth to twin sons; Ruth becomes a matriarch and great-grandmother to David; David writes songs of lament that still comfort and inspire; Joseph forgives his brothers and they survive famine by living under his protection in Egypt.

Joseph’s greatness does not consist in his genealogy (royal, yet oh so human) but in his willingness to answer the call from beyond the atmosphere, say yes to God, and accept the risk and change that follows. This Advent season of 2022 will soon come to an end when we celebrate the first coming of Jesus into the world. But the Advent of God is actually a continuing work of the Holy Spirit in each new life that is born or reborn through repentance. We, too, are called to accept and make room in our lives for this God who promised at the end of Matthew’s gospel to be with us to the end of the ages.

Let us pray:

God with us, borne and birthed by Mary:

transcend and transform all that keeps us from saying yes to you;

give us the faith of Joseph to see the Spirit’s work where the world sees

only sin and shame;

This we pray through Jesus Christ, the one who is to come. Amen.