His Father's House
A Christmas Story by St. Joseph
“Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously.”
Thus said my beloved Mary when we found the Child. For three days and three nights, we searched for Him in great vexation, cursing ourselves at times for having let Him out of our sight. We asked our relatives and acquaintances, thinking that He may have gone with them, but to no avail. We must have looked through every corner of Jerusalem twice over, our anxiety making us forget to eat or rest.
Despite the Child’s carelessness and our stress, neither of us were angry at Him. By divine intervention, I was counseled against anger twelve years ago, when the Child first came to our lives.
The moment when you hear that your wife is with child is supposed to be the most joyous occasion in any husband’s life. But mine was not. For you see, Mary took a vow to remain chaste her whole life, and I vowed to be chaste with her when we entered into our marital covenant. But whose child is this?
I recall Mary telling me that she had to visit her relative, Elizabeth, because she was also with child. I do not know what surprised me more: the fact that my wife is carrying a child that is not mine; or the fact that this elderly woman, whom everyone says is cursed with barrenness, could conceive at all.
As Mary went to visit Elizabeth, I was left alone with my troubles. I had heard the most awful stories about husbands who found their wives committing adultery, and wives who were brutally shamed by their communities. Despite my anger and confusion, I was determined not to make Mary go through that. I knew, however, that I had lawful grounds for divorce, and I was not going to suffer the dishonor of an unfaithful marriage. Seeking counsel from rabbis and teachers I trust, I was assured that the divorce could be handled quietly. When Mary returns from her visit, I can hand her a certificate dissolving our marriage, and neither of us would speak about the matter ever again.
Still, the mystery vexed me to no end: Whose child is this? That question haunted me as I lay myself down to sleep one night, with divorce still in mind. Why I woke up the next morning more eager than ever to take Mary into marriage, I am still mystified by. All I can remember is a voice calling on me in my dream state - that of an Angel of the Lord:
“Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
I never realized that while I was fearful and anxious about our marriage and my standing in the community, Mary must have been terrified of the prospect of divorce and public shaming. Now that I know from whom the Child is conceived, our marital union is sanctified. The Lord, in all His glory, entrusted His Son to the care of a humble carpenter and his betrothed. Blessed be His Name!
Jesus. That is what the Angel told us to name the Child. Yeshua. Joshua. The son of Nun. The brave commander who led our people to the Promised Land. Oh, what has become of our Promised Land? Under the tyranny of a puppet king and an insurmountable empire. Our laws are dictated by Pharisees who have abandoned the ways of the Lord, and our finances are ever vulnerable to the wily tax collectors. We are not in Egypt, but our captivity is the same.
But our Joshua, said the Angel, will save His people from their sins. The Child Jesus, growing in the womb of Mary, will bring us to the Promised Land once more. He who is of the lineage of David, as so many of our prophets have foretold, will restore the Mighty Kingdom. Israel - he who wrestles with Him - will once again walk with Him in glory!
Before He was born, the Child Jesus had saved our marriage. That is how I believed in His salvific destiny. He brought Mary and I closer together more than we ever thought, for we know now our shared vocation. Our love for Jesus strengthens our love for each other.
When I look into the eyes of the newborn Jesus, I see the history of my people. Abraham, the flight from Egypt, the judges, the kings, the exile… and the Messiah. I see also the tremendous role that God has assigned for me in this long and difficult history - the chaste guardian of the new King and his Queen Mother.
For twelve years, I watched as the Child grew in wisdom and stature. I taught Him the tricks of the carpentry trade, and Mary instructed Him in matters of faith. He became good friends with Elizabeth’s son, whom she named John. As my mind becomes flooded with all these memories, one question I must never forget is: Whose Child is this?
Let it be known that I was shocked when I found young Jesus in the Holy Temple, conversing with the elders and teachers of the faith. It is said that “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.” But I was even more surprised at the reply that He gave to Mary and I: “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
I was left confused and angry, much like I was when I found out that Mary is with child. In the most unusual circumstances He came to us, and in the most unusual circumstances we found Him. “Whose Child is this?” the question lingered in my head. Now I understand the answer: God is His Father, and our Father also.