Advent Calendar – 17 December
Nativity Stories: Joseph
It was crooked. I saw that straight away. One leg would always be off the ground. Shoddy work. I’d half a mind to borrow tools from a joiner round here and set it right. But how could I, when it was filled with straw and on that straw was the baby?
The baby. I’d made a mess of things. I should have come to Bethlehem before, when Mary wasn’t so far gone, but I’d a big job on and thought the money would be helpful with another mouth to feed and who knows how many more to come. Then when I had the time Mary told me she was nearly due and could not let me go alone. She’s a feisty one, I thought. But so be it – we’d take it slow and have the donkey for her. But how stupid I was, to let her risk the birth so far from home. I still feel so guilty, and then no room in Bethlehem except this corner with the beasts. What kind of husband am I?
Rachel gave me such a look when we knocked on her door, and the midwife thought me useless. Maybe they were right and yet, that night, when her pain came on it was my hand she gripped, strong as a vice, though her own hand is barely half the size of mine. I’d no idea what to do but I was there, beside her as the angel asked. Maybe that’s all that’s needed, to be there, to not have run away.
“Here he is,” the midwife said. “You have a son.”
I took him in my arms. There’s none of me in him, I thought. Mary and I still haven’t made our marriage whole though when she’s ready, I’m sure we will. All the same, when I held that bundle with my calloused hands, so often jagged with splinters, I felt a pride I’ve never felt for anything I’ve made. So soft, so light, I could hold him in one hand, yet he’s the one who holds our people in his tiny, perfect hands.
I was a fool to bring her here and yet some shepherds came with a story of angels meeting them above the town. It must be meant. Bethlehem. David’s town. My ancient home. Mary was exhausted and at last I could make myself useful, I could at least get rid of the lads, their eyes on stalks at our strange and brand new family. One winked at me as he went out the shed. Why not? Who else will bring the Saviour up, and teach him how to make a manger that sits steady on four legs?
Saint Joseph with the Infant Christ – 19th Century painting on glass, Poland