Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
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May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, O God, my Creator and my Sustainer. Amen.
Among the many rites and ceremonies contained in the Book of Common Prayer is a service of Thanksgiving for the Birth or Adoption of a Child (page 439). As envisioned in the Prayer Book, “the parents, with other members of the family, should come to the church to be welcomed by the congregation and to give thanks to God.” The book further states that, “it is desirable that this takes place at a Sunday service,” such as the Eucharist or morning prayer.
In the section concerning adoption, there is a moment where the priest, holding or taking the child by the hand, gives the child to the parents, saying:
“As God has made us his children by adoption and grace, may you receive [this child] as your own son or daughter.”
The service concludes with a Trinitarian blessing over the family, part of which bids, “May God the Son, who sanctified a home at Nazareth, fill you with love.”
With these relatively few words and simple gestures, the Church publicly affirms, celebrates, and blesses the bonds of family in a profoundly sacramental sense. A child, begotten and beloved by God, is entrusted to people with whom they may or may not share a biological bond, to be nurtured, protected, taught, and – above all, loved – in no less than the very same way in which God loves. Here, an adoption ends and a family begins.
I think this beautiful little ceremony models quite well how God desires all of us to treat one another, regardless of whether we’ve ever adopted or been adopted in the usual sense. And I also think it really captures the faithfulness of Saint Joseph in his role as Jesus’ earthly adopted dad. Although the gospels don’t record any of Joseph’s words, their accounts of his, Mary’s, and Jesus’ family life – and certainly of Jesus’ adult life and ministry – speak volumes about how much he accepted and loved Jesus as his own child.
From Saint Matthew’s gospel, which we heard at Matins this morning, we know Joseph was a righteous man. That is, he was committed to living the way he believed God wants us to. So, when he found out Mary was going to have a child who wasn’t his, he sat down and had a good, long think about the best way to proceed. On the one hand, Joseph knew he needed to honor the law, but on the other hand he genuinely wanted to spare Mary from shame and suffering. A quiet separation seemed like the best way to go, until an angel reassured him that all would be well, and he should still marry her and raise the child as his own. And we know from various gospel accounts that Joseph did indeed take the angel’s command, as well as his parental role, very seriously. There was the Nativity, in which Joseph went to great lengths in difficult circumstances to find a safe place for Mary to give birth to Jesus; then there was the flight into Egypt, a perilous journey Joseph undertook to protect his family from Herod’s murderous violence; there was also the Presentation, in which he and Mary brough Jesus to the temple to fulfill the law, and where Jesus was recognized by people who were expectantly awaiting Israel’s messiah. And then, of course, there was the family’s annual trip back to Jerusalem for the Passover.
In today’s story from Saint Luke’s gospel, we find the Holy Family making one of these yearly Passover pilgrimages. Presumably, this had become pretty routine for them by this point, and so Joseph and Mary feel comfortable letting Jesus – now twelve years old and, religiously at least, an adult – travel in the company of his friends and siblings while they walk with the other grownups. When they finally realize Jesus isn’t in the group, they do what most parents would: initially freak out (probably) and immediately begin backtracking. Their exhaustive searching eventually leads to the Finding in the Temple, where they’re stunned to discover Jesus engaging with the teachers.
Mary, understandably, confronts their son, telling him how much anxiety this has caused her and Joseph. It’s in this line, I think, where we come about as close as we can to hearing Joseph actually speak. While we don’t know exactly what words he used, we know he was a worried, panicked parent. Whatever any of us thinks we’d say in a similar situation, Joseph probably said it, too. I really wonder what went through Joseph’s and Mary’s heads when Jesus responds, basically, that it’s no big deal and they obviously should’ve known where he’d be anyway. I can imagine Joseph thinking, if not actually saying, “Oh, I know exactly where you need to be, mister! At home! With your mother and me! In Nazareth!”
Whatever the exchange, it seems Joseph and Mary’s relief at finding Jesus far outweighs any anger they may have been feeling and, with Mary treasuring all these things in her heart, the three return to their home in Nazareth, where Jesus would spend the rest of his youth “increasing in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.”
This is the last we really hear about Joseph. Scholars figure he probably died by the time we meet Jesus again in his early thirties more than a decade later, as he begins getting ready for his public ministry. But while Joseph may have been physically out of the picture, I think his influence remains present as ever.
I suspect it’s there in the way Jesus gathers his own adopted family of disciples. I also think we catch glimpses of Joseph whenever Jesus shows mercy to people society doesn’t think deserve it, like the Gerasene man afflicted by demons or the woman about to be stoned for adultery. He heals and corrects, but he doesn’t condemn – and I’ll bet he learned that from Joseph, a person we know was both genuinely righteous before the law and profoundly caring toward others. And then there’s Jesus with the little children; and when he calls anyone who does the will of God in Heaven his family. And let us not forget his great priestly prayer in chapter seventeen of Saint John’s gospel, where Jesus makes intercession for all of us (yes, that includes you, me, and everyone else, ever) before God, whom he is completely comfortable relating to as a son, as if he really knows from experience what it’s like to talk with a truly loving father. Then, at last, on the cross, when Jesus tells Mary and John that they’re nothing less than mother and son, and to take care of one another. I think in all these instances, and many more, we feel the far-reaching effects of Joseph’s parental faithfulness toward Jesus.
Much is often made of Joseph’s royal lineage, both in the readings for Christmas and today’s feast, as well as in the substantial popular devotion millions have had toward him over the centuries. But I really think it’s his faithfulness to honoring God by doing what was best for Jesus and Mary (and probably many others) that matters most of all. And that’s good news for the rest of us. Regardless of where we come from, what our socio-economic backgrounds are, or who we’re related to by blood, Saint Joseph shows us that we can – and do! – have a positive influence in the world simply by treating others with the same dignity and love God has for all of us. And in times such as these, that’s more important than ever.
Perhaps it’s worth reflecting on the Saint Josephs in each of our lives: those people who, despite not necessarily having to, nevertheless have chosen at some point or another to accept us as we are, to ‘adopt’ us in a very true sense. These could, of course, be parents who have literally adopted us into their families, as well as teachers, mentors, friends, ministers, co-workers, and even bosses. For me, my first supervisor comes to mind, as well as older and more experienced friends I’ve had over the years who welcomed me into their homes and social circles and made real efforts to support me as I began discovering who I was and how I could best fit in with the world around me. I’m both indebted to and grateful for these Saint Josephs. The wisdom they’ve shared and the lessons they’ve taught remain with me today, and they do have a very real influence on how I’ve come to know and approach God, as well as how I engage with and pray for others.
The story of Saint Joseph is one of loving faithfulness and accountability – both to God, and to others – as well as an example each of us is invited to follow. With the words quoted earlier from the Prayer Book in mind, may we, like Joseph, freely welcome Jesus in all whom God sends our way. And may we all, in supporting and caring for one another, come to fully see ourselves as members of God’s one Holy Family, created out of love and called to increase in wisdom and in years, and in human and divine favor, together. Amen.
