Fourth Sunday in Lent--St. Joseph, Guardian of our Lord

St. Matthew 13:54-58

Coming to His hometown [Jesus] taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished, and said, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not His mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” And they took offense at Him. But Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his hometown and in his own household.” And He did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief.

The writer of the New Testament book of Hebrews devotes a chapter to recounting the faith of believers of the past. He talks about Abel, and Enoch, and Noah, and Abraham, and Sarah (without time, he says, to go into several others); he does it for the purpose of encouraging present believers with accounts of these past believers’ lives. Knowing they believed and were faithful to the LORD uplifts those who walk the same road (that is sometimes difficult).

In that same spirit, then, we consider this morning, Joseph’s life. Today, March 19, is the day when Joseph is traditionally remembered (We’re talking about Joseph who was placed by the LORD into the vocation of father to Jesus the Savior, during His childhood in this world).

The position was hardly glamorous. The way the angel talked to Mary about the father of the child to be born to her was essentially to say there wouldn’t be one in the natural sense; that what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit (Matthew 1:20).

Now, we know that this was a gracious thing on God’s part. It was the way to solve the problem of our sin; that the perfect Son of God be born into human flesh [not inheriting like we do, therefore, the sinful nature that comes through the union of sinful human parents]—He did it so that He could live perfectly in our place, and then die as the sufficient sacrifice for our sins.

But because it was to happen this way, Joseph had to learn that his betrothed was with child; and this, as St. Matthew puts it: before they [before he and Mary] came together. Matthew tells us that Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. Now, that word resolved is interesting. It indicates that there was careful thought about it, maybe over some time, right? We’re not told how long Joseph considered these things before coming to that conclusion (a very loving conclusion, by the way; one that would spare Mary the worst of what could result from such a thing). Just having these things to consider for a time must have been difficult though. Of course, an angel’s visit brought God’s purpose to light, making it clear to Joseph that marrying her as planned was the right thing.

The Bible doesn’t really comment on any whispering throughout the community over Mary’s pregnancy that evidently preceded their marriage; but it isn’t hard to imagine that Joseph endured some of that as well (Mary too, of course). Again, the position was hardly glamorous.

In addition, Joseph wasn’t by any means a wealthy man. He was a tradesman—a carpenter (as mentioned in our text). It’s noted in the Christmas season text about Jesus’ presentation in the Temple (the one in which Simeon and Anna are present), that Joseph offered the poorer person’s sacrifice of two turtle doves or a pair of pigeons for those who couldn’t afford a lamb (Luke 2:24). Wealth wasn’t part of caring for God’s Son in human flesh.

In the only other texts in which Joseph is even mentioned, he’s burdened with a great amount of concern in his role as “father” of this child. After the visit of the magi, (who’d also made their visit known to Herod), the angel returns in a dream to tell Joseph that he must take the family and flee to Egypt. They’re in danger. In fact, in an effort to kill Jesus (just after the family’s narrow escape), Herod kills all the male children in the whole region around Bethlehem who are possibly Jesus’ age.

Finally, Joseph is namelessly mentioned along with Mary under the term His parents a couple of times in the account of the twelve-year-old Jesus at the Temple. After they have inadvertently left without Him, and then found Him after three days of searching, Mary mentions Joseph, saying, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.”

Isn’t it also evidently the case in our text, that when the locals get a glimpse of what Jesus is doing among them now, the comment that comes out seems to kind of diminish Joseph’s importance; they say, Isn’t this the carpenter's son? Jesus goes on to comment on a prophet not being honored in his hometown. Hardly glamorous.

And yet, as is the case in a lot of ways with the LORD, things aren’t quite the way they seem. This is the LORD Who regularly says, The kingdom of heaven is like… and then proceeds to describe a situation that is opposite of what people would think. With the LORD the last is first and first last. Suffering Lazarus ends up in the paradise of God’s kingdom. Most importantly, the One being crucified is really saving all sinners.

So then, it isn’t such a surprise that the LORD hides tremendously important work behind the facade of Joseph’s unglamorous life. He hides it behind a man of modest means who fears God, and who loves deeply his wife, and the child whose care he has undertaken—moving them out of harm’s way when necessary, searching anxiously when he believes the child has been lost, following the LORD’s direction all along the way. For someone whose life is so unglamorous, the LORD has made a tremendous amount of it, hasn’t he?

What a lesson in this time in which one of the biggest causes of peoples’ dissatisfaction with their lives is in comparing themselves with others’ social media postings. People of various ages look at lives apparently more glamorous than their own, and think, What am I doing wrong? Why am I this, when they’re that! It can even become a sinful dissatisfaction with what God has provided, can’t it? Behind it can really be the person saying, Why hasn’t God given me (whatever it is that looks so great  about those other people’s lives)? Why am I so ordinary? Why do I have so little? Why do such difficult things seem to keep happening to me? You’ve felt like this, haven’t you? We convince ourselves that this sort of dissatisfaction isn’t sin, that it’s sort of our right to feel this way. But it really can become sin, can’t it? No doubt, sometimes it has for you.

When we highlight the lives of these saints—these believers of the past, it’s important that we remember that it’s the things God is doing through their lives that we’re really highlighting.

The Bible doesn’t indicate to us that Joseph (or Mary, for that matter) were any less sinful than anyone else. In fact Jesus is including Joseph in His rebuke in the Temple, when He says, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?” Joseph isn’t just another sort of social-media-like person that we look at and say, why can’t I be more like him? Wouldn’t be any reason for us to observe his life today if that were the case.

Instead, we look at his life to see God’s great blessing in it and through it. Everything we’ve said about him paints kind of an ordinary picture; and yet, through this ordinary person God brings about extraordinary accomplishment. Through the unremarkable day to day life Joseph provides, the world’s Savior grows up in this man’s house, healthy and protected, all His needs met. The LORD hides tremendously important work behind the facade of Joseph’s unglamorous life.

The same can be said for the life of every believer. When the writer to the Hebrews is talking about those believers of old, he, too, isn’t talking about some kind of “super believers”. He’s emphasizing what their faith was in.

These all died in faith [he says], not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth (11:13).

Their faith was in God’s grace, and that it was coming through the One Who’d been promised—Messiah. The writer talks about a few specific believers’ lives, but then goes on to mention in general a lot more, about whom he says:

Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated—of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth (11:35-38).

Talk about unglamorous lives. And yet, they were so valuable to the LORD, that they’re mentioned in the Bible as though they were VIP’s. He was accomplishing important things through them, even though it sure didn’t look like it on the surface. Many times it sure didn’t feel like it to them either, no doubt.

You are equally important to Him. He does His work in and through your life too. You are His witness in this world who reflects Him in your vocation every day of your life, no matter how unglamorous or even unimportant you might think it is. Yours is a life that was redeemed by the Savior. As Paul says, you were bought with a price (1 Cor. 7:23). Furthermore, you were Baptized—brought into God’s family, given faith to know Him according to His grace and mercy. You know the essence of God’s grace toward you, that Jesus, who desired at all times only what the Father willed, has made payment for your desires that were beyond that, and for every other sin. Behind the facade of your unglamorous life God accomplishes great things. His love is in you, that goes out to others. He hears your prayers. Let us pray:

Heavenly Father, grant Your mercy and grace to Your people in their many and various callings. As you did for Your servant Joseph, give them patience, and strengthen them in their Christian vocation of witness to the world and of service to their neighbor in Christ’s name; through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

—Appropriated from Lutheran Service Book, p.311.