St. Joseph

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer on Zoom
March 19, 2020
Feast of St. Joseph

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word, who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
In the hallway of the retreat center where I go regularly for Spiritual Direction, there is a small painting of Joseph holding the baby Jesus while Mary sleeps. It is a simple painting that looks like it was probably done in the 1970s or 80s - reminds me of illustrations in the Little Golden Books of my childhood. The painting reflects its era, and the baby Jesus is far too white. Despite its flaws, I have consistently found myself drawn to this picture. I think part of this is because it is an uncommon image. There are so many different images of Mary holding the baby Jesus. In classic art, in icons, and in umpteen Christmas cards. We so rarely see images of Joseph as an engaged father. We are rarely invited to think about him as a caregiver for Jesus. That image of Joseph holding Jesus while Mary sleeps invites us to rethink our very familiar version of the story that we carry around in our own minds and hearts.

I don’t know about you all, but I am finding comfort in that right now. “Being invited to rethink things.” Well that just about sums up the week doesn’t it? We are being invited to rethink everything. From our how we do our work, to how we interact with our community to how we do our grocery shopping and how we wash our hands. Add on to that a high level of anxiety in our hearts, our homes, our communities and the world. Oof. What a lot to be dealing with at once. It can feel like quite a test of our resilience, of our faith, of our ability to hold on to hope and trust in God in the midst of darkness. Hmm. That also sounds like the story of Joseph.

One of the things I have always loved about the story of Joseph that we usually get in Advent is that it is such a classic human story. Joseph is going along with a nice plan for his life. He and Mary are going to build a nice life together. They will do the things the average family in Nazareth did in the 1st century. But then the Holy Spirit intervenes, as she so often does. Mary is pregnant and everything seems to be going to turn upside down. At first Joseph is going to dismiss her quietly, quite understandable . . . things are not going according to his plan. But blessedly the Holy Spirit intervenes again, and helps him to understand the fullness of what is happening. The plan is not going to be exactly what he thought it was . . . and yet on many levels it is going to be more wondrous and amazing than he could have possibly dreamed. Joseph is left with a choice. Does he walk away because things are not going how he imagined they would or does he stay in the complicated, messy situation that also has amazing possibilities? Does he say yes to God and choose to step into a now uncertain future? Does he choose faith and trust or certainty and isolation?

Now, for most of us our current dilemmas are not exactly the same. We are not being asked to welcome the Son of God as the newest member of our family. And yet at the more basic emotional and spiritual level, the questions are the same. What does it look like for us to move forward in faith even when the future feels scary and uncertain? How do we trust in God, trust in goodness, trust in life and possibility, when it seems like everywhere around us doors that we thought were open are suddenly closing? There is a very real temptation to give into the fear and the worry. Fear is sneaky that way. Playing out the worst case scenarios and running through all kinds of possibilities in our heads can have the illusion of being productive and prepared. Now I am not saying we should not be prepared. But stocking up on groceries and medicine for an extended time at home or making concrete plans with our family is a different thing from lying awake at 2 in the morning playing out disaster movie scenarios in our brain.

So what exactly does it look like to choose hope? I will tell you what it looks like for me, and I hope some of that will resonate. It looks like being present in the moment, and noticing the little things. A daffodil blooming. The smiles and laughter of my children. The longer days. The fact that these days I get to eat three meals a day with my children. The clarity of priorities a crisis brings - in the midst of all of this, it is easy to be sure of what really matters. Choosing hope also looks like being gentle with ourselves. It looks like being compassionate with ourselves, our loved ones, our colleagues and friends. Life is hard right now. Adding anger and frustration to the mix won’t be helpful. And that leads me to the other tool of building hope. Relationships where trust is paramount and vulnerability is always possible. Holding on to hope is rarely (if ever) a solo endeavor. It is possible because we do not walk alone. We have companions on the way with whom it is okay to be fully ourselves, to name our fears and our frustrations, to process our challenges. Relationships that support us, inspire us, and help us to be our best selves.

So I hope that today, and every day in these challenging times, you will be given the grace, the courage, and the companions you need to choose hope. To follow in Joseph footsteps, stepping out into an uncertain future, trusting that the possibilities that God has in store for us are always more than we could ask or imagine. Amen.