JOSEPH'S SPECIAL DELIVERY

Sermon preached by the Rev. Michael Anderson Bullock

[Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25]

The Fourth and last Sunday in the season of Advent is often focused on Mary and the story of the “Annunciation”.  In fact, the fourth Advent Sunday is often referred to as the “Marian” Sunday, but not today, not this year.

You know (I hope) that in the celebration of Holy Communion we have a three-year cycle of scriptures. Each of the years -- A, B, and C -- use either Matthew, Mark, or Luke as the anchoring Gospel resource.  It is in Luke’s Advent portrayals that Mary is prominent in the Christ nativity story.  Mark also seizes upon Mary’s significant pregnancy as the focus of Advent’s message.  But only in Matthew’s gospel does the figure of Joseph come into dramatic view for any extended attention: the kind we encountered in this morning’s Gospel lesson, where we hear about the experience of Christ’s Advent from the relatively unheralded man, Joseph.

I say “relatively unheralded” in comparison to Mary’s coverage and reverent appreciation; and while this is not a matter of some biblical competition, much less some gender screed, the telling point is that aside from this nativity appearance orbiting Christmas, we only hear about Joseph one more time in the gospel: that time being when Jesus is seen as a most precocious, Temple-oriented, twelve-year-old.  After that episode, Joseph disappears from direct biblical history.

The apparent vacuum created by Joseph’s “disappearance” has attracted all sorts of stories that seek to explain what happened to him.  In one version, for example, Joseph is seen as being much older than Mary, having been widowed with his own children before marrying the young maiden.  Does Joseph’s disappearance from the gospel narrative indicate that he died, leaving Mary alone and on her own?  Enquiring minds want to know!  And speculative stories abound.

But the truth is that these inquirers will never find a crystalline answer.  And yet in this historical and spiritual mystery, I find Joseph to be a figure of trustworthy faithfulness and strength.  More to the point, together as a companion with the example of Mary, Joseph models the way ahead with God’s Christ for those who wish to learn how to follow Jesus with integrity and courage.

In thinking about Joseph and his example, especially at this time of the year, I recall something a monk said decades ago in a sermon.  He referred to Joseph as “the patron saint of those who get more than they ask for”!  My own reflection on the reality and significance of Joseph leads me to see a companionship between the unique position that Mary rightfully holds among our tradition and that of Joseph.  Specifically, if the Blessed Virgin Mary is referred to as “Theotokis” – (as the Orthodox tradition so prominently and helpfully knows Mary as “the God bearer”), then as a model of faith, I think Joseph deserves a title, too.  My humble suggestion is that we use the description Matthew conveys in this day’s Gospel reading and recognize Joseph as the “the Righteous One” – the Protector and Provider.

Mary has the unique honor of bearing God’s Christ into the world: Theotokis.  And this is a calling that every follower of Jesus needs to adopt: that of having our lives carry the Christ of God into the world’s reality.  Yet, for Joseph and his part, he offers an example of “righteousness” as an ongoing context from which he serves God, Mary, and the child, Jesus.

Mary [Theotokis] bears the Messiah, carries God’s Christ into the world.  She is appropriately honored for her faithfulness and courage to say “Yes” to God’s invitation and calling.  Interestingly, Joseph’s first response to God’s calling was “No”.  (I know this guy!)  But then his life became a stirring “Yes”.  The pivot point, I submit, was his unwavering sense of “righteousness”.

What does it mean that Joseph was a “righteous man”?  It is this term [“righteousness”] that needs clarification, if weaker souls like me and most of you are to model our baptismal lives in any semblance of what we see in Joseph.

When most of us hear the word “righteousness”, we think of being “right” – that is, not wrong.  And being right (and not wrong, matters so much that most of us have been trained since weaning to know “right” from “wrong”.  More to the point, our sense of value as a person is often weighed out in terms of how often and to what extent we are “right” in our judgments, right in our actions.  As I say, this matters, but (as I have confessed to you before in using my father’s words): “There are some things in life that are more important than being right.”  I think Joseh’s life embodies this truth.

The crucial limit in viewing “righteousness” in strictly moral terms (that is, of being “right” versus being “wrong”) is reflected in the truth my Dad voiced to me many decades ago.  There is something more important than never making a mistake or always “winning”.  And the dangerous problem of not recognizing what is beyond the moral calculations almost inevitably leads to the state of being “self-righteous”: that is, regarding ourselves are the source of what is “right” and what is “wrong”.  It is to this aspect of “righteousness” that speaks to Joseph’s character and life.  So, the question is: Beyond the dynamics of being “right” or “wrong”, what is “righteousness”?

If there is one thing that I have attempted to teach you is that at the heart of all life and what makes it tick lies relationship.  While morals matter, while striving to know the difference between “right” and “wrong” is crucial to a fruitful life, there is something deeper and more essential at work in the depths of life, which is at the center of God’s heart.  And that is to understand that at its essence “righteousness” is a relationship word.  It speaks to something that is larger and more significant than “right” and “wrong”.  And here is the point where Joseph’s example emerges with a quiet steadfastness.

In the Old English, the biblical concept of “righteousness” combined two terms into one word.  The word was rihtwisnes: a combination of the word riht (as in just) and wis (a word we now know as “wise”, as in riht-wis -- “right wise”, meaning a way or manner of living – a just and proper conduct, not simply about personal gain.  In its fullest sense, “righteousness” denotes being in right standing with God and others, a reflection of God's justice and faithfulness.  In the language we have often used around here, “righteousness” is living in Communion – with God and neighbor.  For Communion is God’s will.

Initially, Joseph has the Law of Moses on his side.  He had the legal “right” to divorce Mary, even to have her stoned to death for her apparent “wrong” actions.  But, as Matthew reminds us, “Joseph was a righteous man.”  This is to say that Joseph had the gift of living and knowing the Communion-life, one that was rooted in God’s own life and one he, thereby, was willing and able to share with others.  “Righteousness” – Communion -- was Joseph’s orienting compass point.

Becky Taylor (our Senior Warden) pointed out a poem that came across our internet sites this past week.  It was a poem by Steven Garnaas-Holmes, who in this reflection finetunes the realities both Mary and Joseph employed to say “Yes” to God.  Especially in terms of Joseph’s role as the “righteous one”, the “keeper of Communion”, Garnaas-Holmes conveys Joseph as an identifiable human being as opposed to a plastic statue.  His poem is entitled, Emmanuel.

                                               Emmanuel

Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man

and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace,

planned to divorce her quietly.

                       —    Matthew 1.19

I know how you feel, Joseph.

I am disappointed in this world

and its hate and greed, daily violence,

cruelty and stupidity at the highest levels,

climate change, microplastics....

Sometimes I want to quietly disconnect.

To say Nope. Sorry. Never mind.

It's not a world I want to stick with.

But an angel comes to me in a dream and says

Do not be afraid to commit to this world,

for the Divine is in it. There is in this world,

beyond your understanding, a blessing,

a grace, a Presence that will save it.

Even in the mess, name it Emmanuel,

God with us.

And I love this world after all.

Do not be afraid to commit to this world, for the Divine is in it: The phrase reminds me of something another poet wrote about “being in the world but not of it”, humbly stating, “Earth’s the right place for love:  I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.”[1]  The here and now.  The fruit and the cost of saying “Yes” to God and striving to live with “righteousness” and doing our best to say “Yes” to God and God’s Communion life because – in spite of it all – God has said “Yes” to us in Christ.

O Come, O come, Emmanuel.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

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[1] Robert Frost. Birches.