Okay, I’ve got a new idea to unload on you. Before I get to the main point, however, I’ll cover a little bit of theological background to idea and concept. More than one biblical scholar has pointed out the glaring absence of Joseph – the father of Jesus – during the Messiah’s earthly ministry. Joseph is there prior to the birth of Christ. In fact, he hatches a scheme to quietly divorce his pregnant fiance to hide the shame from her and himself. Like any average guy, he’s thinking of both his own concerns and the concerns of his wife. It’s debatable if he was leaning more towards his own benefit than Mary’s (silently divorcing her would no doubt mean abandoning her as well), but we also get the idea that he’s partly doing this for her benefit as well.
You know the story. An angel appears to him and tells him to not act out his plan, but to be faithful and loyal to Mary, who was carrying the Savior of the entire world. He’s present at the birth. He’s also present during the escape route into Egypt to save the young child from Herod’s violent decree (to kill all children under the age of so and so). In this episode, Joseph is a hero. He braves attack, arrest and risks his life to save the lives of his beloved wife and child, Jesus. In this particular instance, I believe God relied on and trusted in man to roll His divine plan out upon the earth. Granted, I would probably agree with anyone that guessed what would happen if an Egyptian soldier or bandit were to harm the baby Jesus. I agree that the mightiest archangel of them all (is that Michael?) was probably armed and ready to pounce on anyone that dared to harm the Christ child. I get fired up inside just thinking about that protective courage and fortitude. Wow! Goosebumps. Tears. Good stuff.
I attribute to Joseph the role of hero in this instance. He had the weight of the entire world (if he even could fathom just an ounce of the significance of his son’s importance). We do not read of any angelic assistance (at least of the army/militaristic magnitude – unless I’m forgetting something). I’d venture to guess that this was one more (one of many) times that Jesus the human was vulnerable and exposed to danger. Joseph took that child and his wife to hide out until it was safe to return. Way to go, Joe!
We hear of Joseph later on when Jesus was about 12 years old, when he made his parents search for him after a trip to Jerusalem. Then he seemingly disappears. He’s not part of the story when Jesus’ mother and brothers and sisters come to take him away – to save him and (mostly) the family name of the embarrassment of proclaiming himself to be a messiah or something. The text tells us that they thought He was crazy and that’s why they came to take him back home, retreating to obscurity and the safety of anonymity back in the podunk town of Nazareth. Two side notes worth mentioning here: First, the detail of him having brothers and sisters tells us logically that Joseph and Mary had sexual relations and produced offspring after the birth of Christ (the idea of Mary’s perpetual virginity just doesn’t make sense to me, forcing one to make some radical jumps of logic to get around this scriptural detail). Secondly, Jesus points to the people inside the house/room He is in as He says, “Behold, My brothers and sisters and mother” (referring to His followers as such). The body of Christ is the mother, sister and brother of Christ. That’s profound and deep. But the point I’m making is we don’t hear about Joseph here.
Then again there is the “passion week,” where Jesus comes to celebrate the Passover and to die. During His mockery of a trial, His brutal beatings and crucifixion we see reports of His mother and disciples hanging around … but there’s no mention of Joseph. There is one scene on the cross where Jesus tells His beloved disciple John, “Behold (probably pointing with His head, even though movement of any sort was probably excruciatingly painful), your mother,” and then He told His mother, “Behold, your son.” Most biblical scholars agree (I believe) that this is a strong indication that Joseph is no longer around, no longer a part of Mary’s life.
The common assumption is that Joseph must have died sometime during Jesus’ life (in between the age of 12 and 30). This very well might be the case. It’s certainly what I’ve assumed most of the years I’ve been a student of the Bible. I had never thought about this much, but this particular explanation offers an incredibly healing and comforting fact to the fatherless: Jesus knows what it’s like to lose a father. For any orphans, you can cry and shake and weep and thank your Savior that He identifies with you on a deep soul level. This is amazing. This is the beauty of Christ. He was tempted in all things, just as we are, yet was without sin. He was acquainted with sorrow. One of His names is “Man of sorrows.”
I think it’s Pat Terry (could be Mark Heard, a sort of kindred artist to Terry) that had such a song, and I think it featured a then Leslie Phillips on shared vocals.
But now consider this: Joseph and Mary divorced. The stress of the pre-marital pregnancy or the stress of something else got to the guy and he and Mary divorced. Who knows what it was. It’s quite distinctly a possibility. We know he was absent from the most significant parts of the life of his adult son, Jesus. But we are not given any details. We can only guess.
I am making a public guess that Joseph and Mary divorced. Now consider what that might mean. It would mean that Jesus could identify with anyone – particularly a child – who has been affected by the pain and the devastation of divorce. Jesus now steps into even that role and says, “I know your pain. I was there, too.”
Isn’t that profound? Have you been impacted by divorce? I have. I had divorce forced upon me after a 20 year marriage. The pain is incredible. The rejection is fierce and abrasive. The loneliness is gut-wrenching. The injustice of being betrayed is intense. It’s one of the most painful experiences for man in this fallen world.
Jesus knows. He knows personally. He knows intimately. He knows the rejection. He knows what it must be like to feel like a misfit, like a victim, like a discarded and unwanted child. Let some of that sink in – especially if you’ve ever shared or drank one of these emotions.
I could be wrong about all of this. It’s just a guess. But I have an absence of details in the Bible silently shouting that this might be true. Just consider it for a moment – just so the profound implications sink in. Jesus can empathize with us. God is with us – Emmanuel. Jesus can sympathize with our weakness, with our suffering, with our divorce, with our abandonment. He was there. He is still there.
Be comforted. He knows you better than you ever imagined.
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