Reflections on the Feast of St. Joseph

Thanks to Bryan Murdaugh (bryanmurdaugh.com and @murdaugh on Twitter) for today’s wonderful reflection on St. Joseph!

Today’s liturgical collision of Lenten preparation and the Feast of St. Joseph is rich. Too rich to cover even a fraction of the figures and realities which the Church, guided through the Holy Spirit, has gifted God’s people.

So we’ll start with a small morsel and then we’ll pray.

Before we get to the reason St. Joseph is such an inspiring figure during Lent, we start with David and Nathan. In the second book of Samuel, King David tells his trusted advisor, the prophet Nathan, of his plans to build a temple for the Ark of God.

Nathan’s first reaction? Go for it.

David was making great plans for God, but God had greater plans for salvation history. Just like Moses dying just shy of the Promised Land, God’s temple was eventually built, but King David never saw it.

Just like David’s desire to see a temple built for his Lord, St. Joseph raised the Son of God in patience – likely under a whole lot of pressure, but died before he would witness the crucifixion and joyful resurrection of the Messiah.

The theme of not being ‘at home’ starts through the nomadic lifestyles of Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, and David – some of our favorite Old Testament heroes. God makes it known to Nathan that he was wandering with David and the Israelites all along.

St. Paul, in his letter to the Hebrews (cf. Heb 11:13), points out that these heroes died in faith, seeking a homeland. And they never even knew of the resurrection.

They did it anyway.

St. Joseph is one of the few canonized Saints that shares this specific faith with those figures.

There are three things I want to focus on about St. Joseph on this day:

  1. He was exceedingly patient.
  2. He accepted his task as it pertained to building up the kingdom of God.
  3. He loved his family.

We know St. Joseph was a holy man. “A just man” doesn’t only mean he paid his taxes and helped elderly ladies with their groceries. It means he was exceptional in righteousness.

He was the husband of the sinless Virgin Mary and chosen by God (as the descendant of King David) to be the foster father of Christ.

Put yourself in his position around the time of the annunciation. Do you react like St. Joseph at every turn? “Wait, you mean I’m charged with raising (and teaching the faith to) the Son of God?” He had a lot of expectations to meet, and a lot of work ahead of him.

Recall, through all of this, we have seen the resurrection and St. Joseph had not.

Good and gracious God, let each of us approach this Lent with a heart full of patience.

When the angel of the Lord appeared to say “Do not be afraid” to Joseph, was he thinking, “Oh, sure, I’m of the house of David; the time of the prophesy has come” as he made the decision to take Mary (and Jesus) into his home?

Maybe.

But what’s important is that he did so with docility and obedience. He didn’t fight like Jeremiah (Jer 1:6) or Jacob (Gen 32:25-29). Sometimes we struggle to understand the will of God, but of ultimate importance is our obedience.

Creator of the universe, help us to understand your will, accept our mission, and offer ourselves as a sacrifice for Your Kingdom.

Why would St. Joseph do any of this? Love.

He loved his Creator. He loved Our Lady. He loved the Messiah so much that he was willing to abandon all of his plans in favor of God’s will.

What does that look like in our lives? What does that look like this Lent? Can we drop everything to spend quality time with a young child or aging parent? Can we open our hearts deeper to our spouse? Love actively (1 John 4:8).

Loving Father, teach us to love. Help us to fan the flames of that love through service and self sacrifice. In the love of our neighbors, help us to see your face.

image credit

Mary and Her Boys

A Mary Moment Monday post

Having a son has made me look differently at my husband. It’s also made me consider St. Joseph in a new light, too. Granted, my little guy’s a Joseph himself. And my husband has long been a model to me of the hard-working ethos and love-through-providing that St. Joseph must have embodied.

But there’s something–even this early into it–about having a son. Already my husband has a little smile when he thinks of construction toys (and he and his older brother, the one with the real-life construction equipment, are already plotting). He will hold the baby and watch basketball and I hear a little commentary.

Strangely, this commentary doesn’t involve purple ponies or hair bows. It is, in fact, very alien commentary in my house of girls, girls who own their father (and know it) and who convince him to play talking horses (though he insists to me that when you play with toys they do NOT have to TALK).

Mary knows; she understands. She had a son and a husband. She must have watched Joseph teaching Jesus how to use the tools and bear with gentle frustration the getting-into and “borrowing” that I imagine must have occurred.

Did Jesus take things apart and examine them? Did he build, even as he was toddling around the house?

Mary was also right in the middle of the disciples, which I picture as a bunch of rough-looking, gentle giants. She was surrounded by men, even as she was holding hands with a host of women. Those men were looking to her, the Mother, and listening to her after her son had ascended.

I grew up with brothers, and I have always felt an affinity for males. I have nothing against women, mind you. It’s just that there’s something about boys.

I have laughed that I have two daughters. I shoulda had boys, I think to myself. And then I see the beauty of my girls and their daddy, and I get a glimpse–just a tiny look–at what makes God smile. Every man deserves a daughter.

As I hold my little man, whose gaze at me seems so different than his sisters’ did, and as I watch my husband go all boy on me, I have to just pause and thank God.

The feast of St. Joseph is March 19, which is Saturday. I think I may think of something special for my husband, in honor of a patron who has done so much for our family.

I love that this feast falls during Lent, and it ties in nicely with an initiative Heidi Hess Saxton (whose writing has inspired raving on my part before) called The 40 Day Challenge. She introduces it here, and she has updates going to the 40 Day Challenge Facebook page.

St. Joseph has long been someone I turn to for my marriage, and using the 40 days of Lent to work on my marriage is a challenge I am going to embrace.

If your marriage is perfect, all the more reason to improve it to super-perfect. But if there’s even one tiny annoyance you have, why not use this season and give it to God? No matter what your faith background, Heidi’s reflections and prompts will give you food for thought and meat for your marriage. Start where you are, at whatever day you begin (though if you’re motivated, you could go back and start at the beginning…for me, though, that’s the kind of obsessive thing that makes something like this impossible!).

If we are to improve the world, we must start in our own homes. For those of us who are married, there is no vocation more important than that of our marriage. If you aren’t married, maybe you can use this as an opportunity to pray for the marriage of someone you know, especially if you see them struggling.

Here are links to the first couple of posts in Heidi’s series, though you can click through to the Facebook page or her blog and find them all:

Saint Joseph, Friend in Suffering

(Found this as I was digging through my archives for something else and thought I’d share it again.)

From Day 8 of the Novena to St. Joseph, Foster Father of Jesus:

Saint Joseph, your share of suffering was very great because of your close union with the Divine Savior. All the mysteries of His life were more or less mysteries of suffering. Poverty pressed upon you, and the cross of labor followed you everywhere. Nor were you spared domestic crosses, owing to misunderstandings in regard to the holiest and most cherished of all beings, Jesus and Mary, who were all to you. Keen must have been the suffering caused by the uncertainty regarding Mary’s virginity; by the bestowal of the name of Jesus, which pointed to future misfortune. Deeply painful must have been the prophecy of Simeon, the flight into Egypt, the disappearance of Jesus at the Paschal feast. To these sufferings were surely added interior sorrow at the sight of the sins of your own people.

You bore all this suffering in a truly Christ-like manner, and in this you are our example. No sound of complaint or impatience escaped you — you were, indeed, the silent saint! You submitted to all in the spirit of faith, humility, confidence, and love. You cheerfully bore all in union with and for the Savior and His Mother, knowing well that true love is a crucified love. But God never forsook you in your trials. The trials, too, disappeared and were changed at last into consolation and joy.

It seems that God had purposely intended your life to be filled with suffering as well as consolation to keep before my eyes the truth that my life on earth is but a succession of joys and sorrows, and that I must gratefully accept whatever God sends me, and during the time of consolation prepare for suffering. Teach me to bear my cross in the spirit of faith, of confidence, and of gratitude toward God. In a happy eternity, I shall thank God fervently for the sufferings which He deigned to send me during my pilgrimage on earth, and which after your example I endured with patience and heartfelt love for Jesus and Mary.

You were truly the martyr of the hidden life. This was God’s Will, for the holier a person is, the more he is tried for the love and glory of God. If suffering is the flowering of God’s grace in a soul and the triumph of the soul’s love for God, being the greatest of saints after Mary, you suffered more than any of the martyrs.

Because you have experienced the sufferings of this valley of tears, you are most kind and sympathetic toward those in need. Down through the ages souls have turned to you in distress and have always found you a faithful friend in suffering. You have graciously heard their prayers in their needs even though it demanded a miracle. Having been so intimately united with Jesus and Mary in life, your intercession with Them is most powerful.

Saint Joseph, I thank God for your privilege of being able to suffer for Jesus and Mary. As a token of your own gratitude to God, obtain for me the grace to bear my suffering patiently for love of Jesus and Mary. Grant that I may unite the sufferings, works and disappointments of life with the sacrifice of Jesus in the Mass, and share like you in Mary’s spirit of sacrifice.

The Mystery of Joseph

My devotion to Saint Joseph started, in earnest, three years ago. A couple of events happened that seemed inexplicably linked to him — my husband had a fabulous job opportunity and our second daughter was born, all during the span of a nine-day novena to him, asking for guidance and help, before any thought of a new job was in our minds.

In the last year, especially, I’ve felt a pull to learn more about this mystery man of the Holy Family. Earlier this year I read and reviewed Go to Joseph, and it made me reflect even more about Joseph’s important role. The increase in Marian reading that I’ve been doing in the last two years has also exposed me more to Joseph; how could it not?

I can’t help but think of Joseph as the sort of guy my husband is, which is about the highest compliment I can give either one of them (though I don’t intend to compare myself with Mary!). Joseph, like my husband, was strong and silent, made the best of what he was given, and, above all, fostered a deep, unwavering devotion to God.

All of this is a long way to introduce a book that has fostered my devotion to Saint Joseph even more, The Mystery of Joseph, by Fr. Marie-Dominieque Philippe, OP, which I received as part of the Tiber River Blogger Review program.

This book was equal parts challenging text and enlightening devotional. It wasn’t supposed to be a book; it’s a compilation, instead, with the first part being an introduction Fr. Philippe originally wrote for another work and the second part being a series of his lectures.

Though we don’t have much about or by Joseph in Scripture, what we do have is very significant. Fr. Philippe writes in a way that reminds me of the way our parish priest teaches his Bible studies: conversational and approachable without sacrificing any of the scholarly elements. He points out the obvious and then takes it past what’s evident.

Joseph becomes, through Fr. Philippe’s writing, an even more tender and generous man. He’s transformed from a strong and silent background figure to a brave and devout hero, someone who risked all he had and all he was for a woman he recognized as the most amazing woman to walk the earth.

Through The Mystery of Joseph, I realized that Joseph was, as much as anyone in the Old Testament, a prophet. His silence was as much self-imposed, his way of respecting the role God — and Mary — asked him to play in the life of the Savior.

I have a feeling I’ll be rereading this book in the next year. There’s so much GOOD stuff in it: wisdom about Saint Joseph, insight about the Holy Family, food for thought and reflection and prayer.

This book gets my highest recommendation and a spot on my Favorite Books shelf. Hope you enjoy it too!

This review of was written for the Tiber River Blogger Review program, created by Aquinas and More Catholic Goods.

Guest Post: Saint Joseph, a Just Man

We have Jeff Young, of Catholic Foodie fame, to thank for this lovely reflection on St. Joseph, in honor of his feast day today.  Thanks, Jeff!

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
and abides in the shade of the Almighty
says to the Lord: ‘My refuge,
my stronghold, my God in whom I trust!’” (Psalm 91)

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of St. Joseph, Husband of Mary.

Husband of Mary. Have you ever thought about that? I mean really thought about that?

There are two “familiar” titles of St. Joseph: Husband of Mary and Foster-Father of Jesus. They are “familiar” because they are commonly known. But they are also “familiar” because they have to do with family.

St. Joseph was a family man. He was a real husband. He was a real father. And the Holy Family was a real family.

We call St. Joseph the Foster-Father of Jesus in order to emphasize the fact that Jesus was conceived miraculously. God alone is His Father. But, according to the Law, Joseph was Jesus’ father. Even though Joseph was not the biological father, he claimed Jesus as his own. All the world, at that time, knew Joseph as the father of Jesus.

Why is this important?

In the daily life of the Holy Family, Joseph was a dad to Jesus. He did all the things that dads do. He talked with Jesus, he cared for Jesus, provided for him and Mary. He taught Jesus a trade. Carpentry. They practiced their religion together… faithfully.

As the scriptures say, Joseph was a just man.

The fact that Joseph was a just man leads us to another of the great titles of Joseph that we find in the Litany of St. Joseph: Terror of Demons. Wow! Joseph is the Terror of Demons!

How is it that a man who has dreams of angels, who speaks not one word in the gospels, and who seems so meek and lowly… how can he be the Terror of Demons?

Because he was a just man. Scripture says that “The just man overcomes every misfortune which oppresses him” (Proverbs 24:5). It also says that “The just man appraises the house of the wicked: there is one who brings down the wicked to ruin” (Proverbs 21:12).

Joseph was… No, Joseph IS a just man.

“The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the just man runs to it and is safe” (Proverbs 18:10). It is the Lord Himself who overcomes the enemy. The Lord works through the just. It is the Lord who scatters His enemies. In Joseph we see Psalm 91 in action. We started out this reflection with a quote from Psalm 91. Here’s where it resumes:

“It is he who will free you from the snare
of the fowler who seeks to destroy you;
he will conceal you with his pinions
and under his wings you will find refuge….”

We would do well to reflect upon Psalm 91 today as we celebrate the Solemnity of Joseph, Husband of Mary. He is the one who protected the Holy Family. He saved Mary from the consequences of the Law. He saved Mary from shame by taking her as his wife. He led his family to safety in Egypt. He brought them back to Nazareth. He provided food and shelter for them. He fathered the Son of God.

In 1847, Pope Pius IX proclaimed Joseph the Patron and Protector of the Universal Church.

Today, I proclaim St. Joseph as the Patron and Protector of my Domestic Church, my family.

St. Joseph, Husband of Mary, Foster-Father of Jesus, Terror of Demons, pray for us!

Joseph as a Gift to Us

In all the talk about Mary around here, you might have missed my devotion to Joseph.  And that’s OK.  You have a lot of other things to keep track of.

Take a moment, though, and click on through to read “Time for Joseph.”  It’s Mary Kochan’s latest at Catholic Exchange, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes. This is the kind of column I print and save to reread. The imagery is great and the idea behind it, Joseph as a gift to us, is so beautiful. I hope you take a moment to read it.

If ever a man could have felt himself to be superfluous in a situation, a real 5th wheel, it might have been Joseph, for the Incarnation was very pointedly accomplished without his help. Having signed up to be the husbandly guardian of a woman who was vowed to holy virginity was one thing. But when unexpectedly she was expecting: everything around him — their plans, his and her reputations, the entire way of life he was anticipating — was suddenly overturned. Then, just to make things interesting — and Joseph was not asking for interesting — angels started having conversations with him. Gulp.

Now go read the rest.  Call it an Advent gift to yourself.

Saint Joseph, Our Friend in Suffering

Saint Joseph, your share of suffering was very great because of your close union with the Divine Savior. All the mysteries of His life were more or less mysteries of suffering. Poverty pressed upon you, and the cross of labor followed you everywhere. Nor were you spared domestic crosses, owing to misunderstandings in regard to the holiest and most cherished of all beings, Jesus and Mary, who were all to you. Keen must have been the suffering caused by the uncertainty regarding Mary’s virginity; by the bestowal of the name of Jesus, which pointed to future misfortune. Deeply painful must have been the prophecy of Simeon, the flight into Egypt, the disappearance of Jesus at the Paschal feast. To these sufferings were surely added interior sorrow at the sight of the sins of your own people.

You bore all this suffering in a truly Christ-like manner, and in this you are our example. No sound of complaint or impatience escaped you — you were, indeed, the silent saint! You submitted to all in the spirit of faith, humility, confidence, and love. You cheerfully bore all in union with and for the Savior and His Mother, knowing well that true love is a crucified love. But God never forsook you in your trials. The trials, too, disappeared and were changed at last into consolation and joy.

It seems that God had purposely intended your life to be filled with suffering as well as consolation to keep before my eyes the truth that my life on earth is but a succession of joys and sorrows, and that I must gratefully accept whatever God sends me, and during the time of consolation prepare for suffering. Teach me to bear my cross in the spirit of faith, of confidence, and of gratitude toward God. In a happy eternity, I shall thank God fervently for the sufferings which He deigned to send me during my pilgrimage on earth, and which after your example I endured with patience and heartfelt love for Jesus and Mary.

You were truly the martyr of the hidden life. This was God’s Will, for the holier a person is, the more he is tried for the love and glory of God. If suffering is the flowering of God’s grace in a soul and the triumph of the soul’s love for God, being the greatest of saints after Mary, you suffered more than any of the martyrs.

Because you have experienced the sufferings of this valley of tears, you are most kind and sympathetic toward those in need. Down through the ages souls have turned to you in distress and have always found you a faithful friend in suffering. You have graciously heard their prayers in their needs even though it demanded a miracle. Having been so intimately united with Jesus and Mary in life, your intercession with Them is most powerful.

Saint Joseph, I thank God for your privilege of being able to suffer for Jesus and Mary. As a token of your own gratitude to God, obtain for me the grace to bear my suffering patiently for love of Jesus and Mary. Grant that I may unite the sufferings, works and disappointments of life with the sacrifice of Jesus in the Mass, and share like you in Mary’s spirit of sacrifice.


Hencefoth filed in my “never thought of it that way before” file!

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