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This weekend we reflect on the Christmas story through the lens of Joseph, Mary’s husband. At the outset of the story Joseph is introduced as a righteous man. His steps are filled with tension and personal sacrifice and stretch our understanding of what this means. Through his struggles we see glimpses of a new and expanded kind of righteousness emerging in the world with the birth of the child Jesus.

This morning we continue our journey toward Christmas by reflecting on the life of Mary’s husband Joseph. Largely the Christmas characters have taken on a rather one-dimensional quality in our imaginations, like stand-up cardboard cutouts in a nativity scene. Joseph, also known as the Silent Saint because we don’t have any of his words documented in the Bible, was actually a real person just like you and me with full-bodied personality and struggles and choices. Even in his silence, we have a great deal to learn from him about life with God.

Gospel writer Matthew introduces Joseph as a righteous man. Righteousness can have several meanings, but quite simply put, it means doing what is right or being right with God. Culturally, in the time leading up to Jesus’ birth the way a Jew would do right or be right would be through obedience to the Torah, the sacred Law of Moses. As a righteous man, Joseph would have been zealously obedient to this Law. As Pastor John Ortberg writes, it’s likely that:

Joseph didn’t eat unclean food. He didn’t mix with the wrong kinds of people. He didn’t keep his carpentry shop open on the Sabbath to make a few extra drachmas…Nobody would have invited him over to have ham sandwiches with tax collectors and prostitutes.[1]

His identity as a righteous person would have brought the deep respect of his community. Neighbors would have looked up to Joseph. Early on in the story, however, his reputation is at stake.[2]

You see Joseph is a righteous man with a dilemma. He discovers his wife Mary is pregnant, and the absolute shocking thing for Joseph is he knows it’s not his baby. The reason he knows is he and Mary had not yet physically consummated their commitment.

Marriage customs were different in that culture. Joseph and Mary were betrothed, which was one step before marriage. Betrothal, however, was a legally binding commitment which could only be terminated through divorce. During the year of betrothal Joseph and Mary would have already been known as husband and wife, though they would have lived separately. At the end of that year they would have become properly married.

Since God had not yet revealed it to him that this baby was from the Holy Spirit, Joseph of course has a strong sneaking suspicion that Mary has been unfaithful to him. As a religiously upright person, Joseph knows what the law requires for someone in Mary’s condition. Deuteronomy 22 gives clear instructions:

She shall be brought to the door of her father’s house and there the men of her town shall stone her to death. She has done a disgraceful thing in Israel by being promiscuous while still in her father’s house. You must purge the evil from among you.

Imagine Joseph’s internal struggle. His wife pleading her innocence, sharing her baby is of God. What man would believe that? Joseph wrestling with God’s Law.. The text says in verse 20 that Joseph considered the situation. Biblical scholar Ken Bailey makes a good argument that this word “considered” would be more accurately translated as “fumed.”[3] And I think fuming likely would have been Joseph’s red-blooded response.

The story says Joseph decided to divorce Mary, but to do so quietly or secretly so she wouldn’t be humiliated, or worse executed. Let’s not lose the fact this decision was risky business for Joseph. This righteous man was planning to break the Law of Moses.

Joseph, in his internal wrestling, seemed to be drawing on a deeper and broader definition of righteousness than the one of his time. Where did he get that definition? Ken Bailey draws out an interesting line of thinking.[4] Joseph, he says, was reaching back to the prophets, particularly Isaiah.

In the book of Isaiah, there are four different songs describing a “suffering servant” whom God would work through to save his people. The first of these is found in chapter 42:1-6. Listen to verse 3 of this song:

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;

“A bruised reed he will not break.” Reeds were used in ancient times as writing utensils. They were also at times used for houses and boats, even up through recent history. What can be done with a bruised or a crushed reed? Not much. They would be broken and thrown into the fire for cooking or heating.[5]

What’s the second thing Isaiah says this “suffering servant” will not do? “A smoldering wick he will not snuff out.” In the Middle East, small clay lamps illuminated households. These lamps had wicks hanging out from the spout. When the oil would get low, there was the possibility that the wick would burn through and fall to the ground and start a fire. Oftentimes, homes would have a little bowl of water underneath, so that the wick would fall into it and be extinguished.[6]

This special servant in Isa. 42 would not break the reed or put out the smoldering wick, as he implemented justice. His hands would exert strength in tenderness. His kind of justice, or you could say righteousness, would be filled with compassion for the broken and weak and worn out, the bruised reeds and smoldering wicks of life.

Joseph considered the Law, for sure, but he also wanted to extend compassion to Mary, this young woman in great need. It seems that as Joseph struggled through this situation, God was already bringing a greater kind of righteousness across the threshold of heaven into the world, a righteousness that Jesus would later put into the words: I desire mercy, not sacrifice.

Even before Jesus was born Joseph pointed to this greater kind of righteousness we disciples truly long for and are to embody, a righteousness that goes deeper than just being right, one that doesn’t look like the culture in which justice is you hurt me and I’ll hurt you back. May we at ZPC extend Joseph’s greater kind of righteousness to one another. May we treat each other, all of us delicate bruised reeds and smoldering wicks, during this difficult time in our church life, with great compassion and tenderness.

Not only is this new kind of righteousness one infused with compassion, it’s one that is costly. Joseph would discover that for himself. Let’s go back to our story. After he had decided what to do concerning Mary, God appears to him through an angel, and says to him, “Joseph. Don’t be afraid to take Mary home as your wife. This child is from the Holy Spirit.”

Don’t be afraid. What did he have to be afraid of if he obeyed God? Plenty. They lived in a very small town, and word gets around in a small town. Everyone knows your business in a small town. Who would believe him? He would lose his reputation as a righteous man with his family and friends. Neighbors would no longer look at him the same way. Their gazes would be marked with scorn and judgment. He would never be able to leave his home and be certain that Mary would be safe from violence. His carpentry business would suffer. These were just costs he could count. He had no way of knowing that if he continued to do what God would say to do, his family would have to run for their lives from murderous King Herod, becoming refugees in Egypt. When they would later return to Israel, they wouldn’t be able to go back to their hometown, effectively making them exiles in their own country. Obeying God would mean turning his life upside down.[7]

So what did he do? He obeyed. He obeyed God even when it ran counter to every cultural and religious fiber in his body. He was open to the living God and God doing a new thing in his life.

Joseph sacrificed a great deal for Jesus. And following the way of Jesus will involve us making sacrifices as well. Jesus would later tell his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” Through hundreds of years since Jesus’ birth, people have done just that, giving up reputations and status, possessions and relationships, and their very lives for this Jesus.[8]

My sister from Florida was in town for Thanksgiving and we were talking one day. She was sharing about the early years of her career. She was a marketing account manager for a company out in Dallas, Texas, and it was drudgery. It was boring. It was colorless. About six months into the job, a friend of hers offered her a new job at a glitzy advertising agency, a job with better pay, more opportunity for advancement, and more excitement. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. As she reflected about it and prayed over it, however, God moved in her heart and convinced her that this was not the way to go. She realized God had some character building work to do in her before she left her current job, and that he intended her to fulfill some relational commitments to her current employer. As painful as it was, she bypassed the new opportunity. Moreover, she was convicted to pass on the opportunity to one of her colleagues, who happily snapped it up. Her obedience to God was costly.

What is God asking you to do? Are you being obedient to him? There will be costs, maybe great costs involved. For you it may mean giving up some precious time for someone else. It might mean stepping off the career advancement ladder. It could mean swallowing your pride and admitting you’re wrong. It may be giving up that sin that you use to bring comfort or relief in times of pain. It may mean that you’ll lose some friends. God’s words to you are the same one’s he had for Joseph, “Don’t be afraid!” The Lord will take good care of you. It may be costly, but it will be nothing compared with the heavenly riches God will pour into your life, the joy, the purpose, the peace, the love, an eternal and abundant life with Jesus.

It might be that God is asking you to do something totally unexpected in your life, something outside your understanding of God, something that could turn your world upside down. That was the case with Joseph. By the time of Jesus the religious establishment of the day had become so wooden in the way it approached God. It had built this extensive code of do’s and don’t in following God, and so many of the religious leaders were so rigid in this they couldn’t recognize Jesus as God’s new work in the world. Even though he must have struggled, Joseph was open to stepping beyond his culture’s current interpretation of God; he was open to God’s living revelation, God’s new thing.

I’ve often noticed in myself and others a tendency to become rigid in our own ideas of what we think God is doing and how we think we should respond, almost like a tightened up rusty bolt. Questions I sometimes ask myself regarding this are: “Am I open to God and what he is doing in my midst? Am I willing to follow where he leads no matter the cost, no matter if my world is rocked by it?” Those are questions I encourage you to ponder in your own hearts.

Let’s review a little bit. As we journey with Joseph to the birth of Jesus, we see a new kind of righteousness emerging. This righteousness is first of all compassionate. Secondly, it’s costly.

And finally, this greater kind of righteousness is freely received, not earned. Jesus came into direct conflict with the Pharisees and the teachers of the Law about this issue, blasting their legalism. According to gospel writer Matthew, their spiritual lives were a charade. Externally they kept every last detail of the Law, but their motivation was to gain merit before God. They were trying to earn their way into the kingdom of God, while internally in the depths of their hearts, they broke the spirit of those laws, which Jesus would say is summed up in love of God and love of people. Jesus would say to the Pharisees they were like whitewashed tombs, beautiful on the outside, but full of dead men’s bones on the inside.

Too often we fall into the same spiritual trap of the Pharisees. We strive to be good enough before God. And that’s impossible. We can’t change our hearts. And as long as we are relying on our own efforts to be good, our spiritual lives will be skin-deep. We’ll go through the motions in our marriage, but our hearts will be full of adultery. Our words to each other might be full of grace, but our insides will fester with unforgiveness. We can go to church, teach Sunday School, tithe, but our hearts will be far from God.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught his disciples:

…unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

We can’t earn this greater kind of righteousness. We can only receive it. Joseph didn’t do one thing to earn the honor and privilege of becoming part of this wonderful new thing God was doing in the world. Joseph’s role was to receive this holy child into his life. And he did.

Our text tells us God instructed Joseph to name this child Jesus, which means, “The Lord Saves.” Jesus’ very name means God saves, and that’s his ministry with us. Friends, we are trapped. We are trapped in sin, and Jesus saves us from our distress. We don’t earn his rescue. It’s a gift we thankfully receive.

We read in Romans 3:21-22a:

But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe.

This greater righteousness has come into the world through Jesus Christ, the one whom Peter and Stephen called the Righteous One. And as we embrace Jesus and receive his life into our lives, trusting him to rescue and lead us, his righteousness, his goodness becomes ours. And his life penetrates ours deeply to bone and marrow. Through Jesus, God does what the prophet Jeremiah preached hundreds of years before. God puts his law in our minds and writes his Law on our very hearts.

This morning, we share in the Lord’s supper together. As we receive the bread and the juice, we take into our lives Jesus’ body and blood shed for us on the cross. As we approach this table and receive this meal which Jesus has prepared for us, we confess that we are sinners in need of a savior. And we do this together. This meal is not an individual matter. It’s about community. As we come to the table, we come together to the foot of the cross, all of us broken. We affirm our reconciliation with God and we proclaim our reconciliation with each other. You don’t have to be a member of this church to participate in this meal. All that is required is that you say, “yes” to Jesus in your hearts.

The apostle Paul instructs us to examine ourselves before we share in the bread and the drink and so I invite each of us to take a few moments of silence to search our hearts and confess our sin before God and our trust in Jesus his son. Let’s go to God in silence.

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[1] John Ortberg, Leader’s Insight: There’s Something About Joseph: What Leaders Can Learn from the Nativity about the High Cost of Righteousness.” Article in Leadership Journal, November 27, 2006, 1.

[2] Ibid., 1-3.

[3] Kenneth E. Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: Cultural Studies in the Gospels (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2008), 44-46.

[4] Ibid., 43-44.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ortberg, 1-3.

[8] Ortberg, 1-3.