Light Shining in the Darkness

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

December 13, 2015

Third Sunday in Advent

Light Shining in the Darkness

Matthew 1:18-25

 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.

When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph,

but before they lived together,

she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.

Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man

and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace,

planned to dismiss her quietly.

But just when he had resolved to do this,

an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said,

“Joseph, son of David,

do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,

for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus,

for he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill

what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,”

which means, “God is with us.”

When Joseph awoke from sleep,

he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him;

he took her as his wife,

but had no marital relations with her

until she had borne a son;

and he named him Jesus.

*************************************

Joseph stands in silent wonder

looking down at the feeding trough,

a box filled with hay,

where the midwife had just laid the baby,

a boy,

born in the dark of night.

Joseph’s arms ache from holding the lamp;

it was the only thing he could do,

to shine light as the midwife helped Mary

deliver the baby, the boy.

He hangs the lantern on a pole by the stalls.

The cow looks at him with curiosity,

but the donkey pays no attention,

dozing in his stall,

probably glad for the quiet

after all the noise and excitement.

Mary lies exhausted,

her face flushed and damp.

Still, though he can see her radiant joy,

even in the dim lantern light.

Her baby, her boy,

lies asleep in the hay,

exhausted by the journey he’s just completed.

Her baby, her boy.

Joseph says nothing,

but he wonders:

what to think, what to make of this.

His wife just gave birth to a boy,

a boy,

every father’s dream.

But what should he think?

What can he think?

Does he dare to think of the boy as his,

as his son?

He’s Mary’s son,

his wife’s son,

but will he be the boy’s father?

Things had started off with such promise

not that long ago

when he was first engaged to Mary,

when his father and Mary’s father

contracted their marriage

and their families celebrated the union.

But shortly after their engagement,

before they became husband and wife,

Mary learned that she was with child.

Joseph knew what the law said,

he knew what would happen:

the disgrace, the punishment;

adultery the only possible explanation,

which meant public accusation,

condemnation,

humiliation,

shame,

stoning;

stoning to death.

That was the law.

But Joseph could not imagine that

for the woman who was to have been his wife.

It may have been what the law said,

what the law commanded;

but that was much too cruel,

merciless.

He decided to quietly break off their engagement

and help Mary flee,

so she could have her child far away,

somewhere where she and the baby

would be safe,

where the baby could grow up.

But then came the dream,

that strange dream,

an angel of the Lord,

or was it even the Lord God himself,

saying so clearly, so vividly,

“Joseph, son of David,

do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,

for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

She will bear a son,

and you are to name him Jesus,

for he will save his people from their sins.”

A son!

A son named Jesus.

Jesus, a very common name;

Joseph knew so many Jesus’s.

He knew what the name meant:

“one who saves”,

But what did the angel mean

when he said that the boy would

“save his people from their sins”?

What people?

What sins?

How would he save them?

As Joseph stood in the silence

questions continued to race through his mind:

Should he raise the boy as his own son,

teach him, guide him;

discipline him when he needed discipline,

as all children do,

especially boys.

Would he, could he teach him his trade,

teach him how to be a carpenter,

a good carpenter, proud of his work?

Joseph knelt down by the trough

and looked at the baby, the boy.

The boy opened his eyes

and looked at Joseph.

Joseph picked up the baby

and held him close to his chest,

his heart and the baby’s heart beating as one.

He walked out of the stable,

into the narrow alley behind the inn,

and looked at the shadow

he cast on the ground,

as he held that precious little bundle,

a shadow so sharp and distinct.

In the night sky hung a star

brighter than any he’d ever seen before,

any he could even remember,

high above,

as though right above the stable.

Joseph held the boy tightly

in starlight and shadow.

Joseph held the boy tightly

in the night’s silence.

Soon enough, the silence would

give way to commotion.

Shepherds were already noisily

on their way to town.

Astrologers who lived in far distant lands

were making ready for their journey

to follow that bright star.

And very soon the angel of the Lord

would speak again to Joseph in a dream

and warn him to flee,

warn him to take Mary and the baby

down into Egypt;

to flee from their country

and settle in a foreign land,

to live there as refugees

far from the violence, the screams,

the murder in their own country.

But all that lay ahead.

For a precious moment,

as he stood in the starlight,

Joseph rocked the baby,

rocked him so gently,

and whispered to him,

“Jesus— my son.”

Joseph, about whom

the gospels tell us almost nothing.

Joseph, the husband of Mary.

Joseph, who disappears from the gospels

almost immediately after the birth of Jesus.

Stories abound, all apocryphal,

attempts to fill the void;

stories that portray Joseph,

more often than not, as old,

a widower with children from his first marriage,

uninterested in Mary;

taking her as his wife out of obligation

rather than love.

“I have sons and am an old man,”

he protests in one such story;

“she is but a child.

I do not want to become the laughingstock

of the sons of Israel.”

(The Proto Gospel of James)

Still, for as little as the gospels tell us of Joseph,

we know what kind of man he was:

righteous,

good,

compassionate,

obedient and faithful.

God spoke and Joseph obeyed,

even if he did not understand.

He lived his life by the words Luke tells us

Mary said to the angel Gabriel,

“Let it be with me according to your word.”

(Luke 1:38)

In one short paragraph we learn that

Joseph was a man who understood

God’s word through the prophet,

“I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice.”

(Hosea 6:6)

Clearly, Joseph would have understood

what Jesus would mean when,

many years later he would say,

“You have heard that it was said,

‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’

But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer.”

Clearly, Joseph would have understood

what Jesus would mean when,

many years later he would say,  

“You have heard that it was said,

‘You shall love your neighbor

 and hate your enemy.’

But I say to you, Love your enemies

and pray for those who persecute you,

so that you may be children of

your Father in heaven.”

(Matthew 5:38-45)

Joseph understood love,

Joseph understood mercy.

Joseph understood grace.

It would be more than 400 years

before followers of Jesus

would celebrate his birth,

celebrate what we now call Christmas,

but Joseph understood what Christmas celebrates:

God with us,

the Hebrew word “Emmanuel:”

God with us,

Joseph understood

as he held that tiny baby

in the silence of the night.

Joseph understood as held that tiny baby

that there was light shining in the darkness.

AMEN