By Anne Tinetti
There are a lot of ways to participate in the Christmas accounts in the gospels. Some of us might celebrate the beginning of new life within us, like Mary. Some of us perhaps come to the story from an unexpected origin or a long way off, like the magi. Of course, it’s easy to identify with the shepherds, who are just happy to be there; invited to experience a gift so opulent that they were “sore afraid”. Sometimes we get to be messengers, delivering good news of something all-new to earth: an incarnate God bridging the gap we never could.
But sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, we feel like Joseph.
By the time we get to the birth of Christ, he’s sort of just a guy. He’s adjusted his plans for his own family and played his part to protect Mary. All that’s left is to stand at the fringes of the action like an extraneous visitor to the child’s birth. “If Mary’s baby is the Son of God,” he may have thought, “then what, beyond keeping up appearances, am I doing here?”
We stand in his shoes when we don’t know where we fit in. An outsider, a third thumb. Maybe it feels this way to be in church; we know we’re supposed to be there, but we don’t know why (except to keep up appearances). It reminds me of what Charlie Brown says about Christmas: “I know I should be happy, but I’m not.”
Strangely, it’s exactly Joseph whose lineage the Gospels choose to trace; not once, but twice. It’s through this guy we’re to expect the Messiah promised to come, through Abraham and King David’s line. But the road dead ends right before reaching the destination.
It’s a paradox. God cuts off the bloodline that would lead to the promised salvation. Biologically, Joseph, and by extension, mankind contributes nothing to the project, just like Abraham sleeping while God cut the original covenant. Simultaneously, God shows us that he reckons family ties not by blood, but by his gracious will.
He reckons Joseph every bit a real part of the family, so that when Jesus goes into the grave, he reaches all the way up his family line, through David and Abraham, all the way to Adam, and pulls his fathers and all fathers free from the grip of death.
So when you’re not sure why you’re here, or feel you don’t fit in, or can’t seem to muster the amazement or inspiration associated with Christmastime, you’re exactly where you need to be. And you’re in good company! We’re all here because we don’t and can’t bring anything to the table. Our role is to receive the inheritance that comes from being part of God’s family.
Anne Tinetti is a writer, educator, and friend of Camp Arcadia. She lives on the campus of Concordia Lutheran Seminary in St. Louis, MO with her husband Rev. Dr. Ryan Tinetti and their four children.
