Monday 27 January 2020

The Call to be Fishers of Men: Casters and Menders of the Net


At the start of Jesus’ public ministry, He begins by calling the twelve apostles.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus begins by calling two brothers, Simon Peter and Andrew, and as the text seems to indicate, along the same stroll along the beach, He also called two other brothers, James and John.

The first two brothers, Peter and Andrew, are "casting a net into the sea" when Jesus sees them (4:18). Presumably while they are still in the boat, He calls out to them to follow Him. The second pair of brothers, James and John, are seen and called by Jesus while in their father’s boat “mending their nets” (4:21). In both instances the Greek adverb εὐθέως, meaning “immediately,” is used to describe the response of the pairs of brothers to Jesus’ call.

What is interesting is how Jesus does not say, “Stop what you are doing, I have better work for you to do.” He says to the first pair of brothers— “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men” (4:19). He appropriates the very work they are undertaking as fisherman, without undermining or trivialising it, and calls them as fisherman into the sacred ministry. Jesus is appealing to the brothers’ as working men, summoning them to leave one boat, and to enter another—that of the nascent Church. He is not telling them to put their fishing days behind them, but He is telling them to fish for ‘bigger fish,’ ‘greater fish’ —the ultimate aim of any fisherman. Jesus is offering a spiritual catch of souls. (On a side note, there's also a tip here for evangelising: accommodate the call of Christ to a person's situation and occupation, speak to who they are.)

In following Jesus, Peter, Andrew, James and John thus let go of their physical nets, but take hold of a new spiritual net—the net of the Gospel and the Kingdom which God has prepared for them to cast out into the sea of the nations. As Jesus himself says, “The kingdom of heaven is like a net which was thrown into the sea and gathered fish of every kind” (Mt 13:47).

When one considers the two types of actions the pairs of brothers were engaged in when Jesus first saw and called them—casting the net and mending the net—we can apprehend two main spiritual roles in the Christian life.

In a general sense, as Christians, we are all called as casters of the net and as repairers of the net.

Casting the net describes the more noticeably active role in the Christian life. It’s hands on, tangibly effective, and immediate to the results hoped for—a catch. As casters of the net we are called to share the Good News of the faith, in word, but mainly in deed, in the lives we live. A kind, dutiful, and joyful Christian life of integrity, is itself a net capable of catching many souls for the Kingdom of God. The active dimension of every vocation and state of life is summarised in the role of casting the net. The parent casts the net in the work and effort they exert into raising children; the priest casts the net as he preaches and tends to the flock given to him; the employee casts the net by carrying out his or her work as a Christian, in a charitable, studious way.

To cast the net encapsulates all that externally happens out on the seas of life. All that is portioned out to us to do when God pushes our little boat into the world, the parish, the family, to catch souls for the Kingdom. For most of us, it’s where most of the excitement happens, where drama, anxiety, frustration, and fulfillment are namely found.

If one asked a fisherman, “What do you do?” He’d say, “I fish.” “What do you mean?” “I cast lines and nets to catch fish.” He would not say, “I clean boats, wait around a lot, wash and carry buckets and fix broken nets.” Even though these activities can even make up most of a fisherman’s work, the act of fishing itself is the heart of the work, and everything that surrounds the act of fishing is either in preparation to catch fish or to distribute the catch. It’s all about the catch but the other stuff is vital. To speak only of preparation—no preparation, no catch.

If time is not spent fixing nets, then casting the net is a vain and pointless exercise. A broken net is not going to catch a thing.

While Peter and Andrew were casting their nets, James and John were mending theirs. The Greek word translated here as mending is καταρτίζοντας—meaning ‘to restore, join together, adjust, make complete.’ They were thus tying together parts of the net where the knots had broken and were adding new pieces of cord to repair holes caused by wear and tear.

Mending the net on face value is not as exciting as casting the net. It takes patience and belief that it’s for a purpose, that it’s worth doing and will help bring about a catch.

Mending the net describes the more passive role of the Christian life—prayer. Of course prayer is an active phenomenon, charged with a spiritual activity greater than any external deed, but from a human standpoint it is the calmer, more passive element of our faith. It consists in the Liturgy above all, in Eucharistic adoration, and in moments of vocal prayer, meditation, such as the Rosary, and silent contemplation. In these times of prayer, we are bringing-in the boat of our soul to be rejuvenated for the mission. We do our little bit in prayer, but above all it is a time when God, through us, restores the net—both in our personal lives and in the broader sense of the entire Church. When even one soul prays the spiritual net of the Church experiences a restoration, a strengthening for more effective use in catching souls for Christ.

The works we do in the Christian life in the exercise of our vocations—that which makes up the tapestry of our own net—is held together by grace and supernatural love. It is important to remember this because it’s easy to sail through the Christian life forgetting that we rely on, and need, grace and love from God to effectively be fishers of men. How easy it is to set out each day on the sea of life without paying any attention to the condition of our nets. Without prayer the Christian soul is like a fisherman who sails out to sea without any hope of being effective, casting a mangled mess into the sea expecting to find a catch. The fish will spot that tangle from a mile away and will swim elsewhere. Prayer fills us with grace and allows God to work more effectively through us—it is Him after all who must cast the net in our casting, lest we cast in vain.

We receive a share in the spiritual net of the Church when we are baptised. But this net is a gift from God and our portion of it can only be maintained by grace and supernatural love. Prayer is that time set aside to allow God to mend our net to make us better fishers of men for God. By prayer we also exercise the Christian role of mending the net of the universal Church, mysteriously aiding other souls in the exercise of their vocations.

The very biblical and Catholic notion of making reparation, of joining Christ in repairing for the sins of the world, is also described in this notion of mending the nets. Our prayer repairs for the faults of the Church’s members, and directly fortifies the Church in her mission of saving souls.

In a general sense, every Christian is called to both roles—casting the net and mending the net. Both are vital and complimentary, one cannot take place without the other. Yet there are also different callings in the Church and each calling summons us to follow Christ by doing a little more casting than mending, or contrarily, a little more mending than casting.

The main function of the clergy is to minister to, support and nurture the faith of the laity (CCC 874-879). In this respect the office of mending the net of the Church belongs especially to the clergy, to help mend the nets of the laity in the exercise of their priestly office, above all in the sacraments of the Holy Eucharist and Confession.

In contrast, the laity “are in the front line of Church life,” since they are the presence of the Church in the midst of human society (CCC 899). The laity in this respect are the primary net casters appointed by God, because they are the ones out on the sea of human life, in the family home and workplace, in the social settings of life far more than the clergy who minister to the nets of the Church, as the laity cast it.

Of course, the roles are reversed in another sense, the clergy are also net casters, the laity net menders, but we exhibit a fundamental misunderstanding of the role of the clergy and laity when the clergy are expected to be the main missionaries present in society, when this role belongs to the laity. The clergy are namely (but not only) there to tend to the laity in the Church, this includes ‘evangelising’ the laity, while the laity are namely supposed to bring the Church into society, and society into the Church—that is, to evangelise, to cast out the net into the broader world.

On the other hand, aside from the fundamental callings appropriate to the clergy and laity in the Church, there are additional callings to the active or the contemplative life. In a specific sense these callings apply to forms of the consecrated life, but in a broader way, members of the Church in general can be considered to be called along a more contemplative or a more active path—it is a matter of emphasis.

Some are appointed primarily to be casters in the boat of the Church. These are those called primarily to an active life: a Christian life lived in the world, among society, where the state of one’s life demands duties that revolve around a primary service—either service to members of the secular community (e.g. disadvantaged), to a spiritual community (e.g. parish), or to one’s family.  The active life is on the front line when it comes to evangelising—it is the direct point of contact between the Church and the catch of souls God is wanting to bring into the Church.

The active life depends on prayer. First, on the individual prayer of those who live the active life, but secondly, on the prayer of the broader Church—especially the prayers of those who live the contemplative life.

Those who are called primarily to a contemplative life are appointed primarily to be repairers of the Church’s net. The patience of a life lived in prayer, lived in faith that such a life and such prayer is not pointless, but is for the good of the Church, is vitally necessary for the success of those casting out on the sea. The missionary, service and evangelistic efforts of the Church would not only lose efficacy, but would fall prey to becoming mere human mechanisms stripped of supernatural love and divine power should the contemplative role in the Church be removed. The Church, which consists mostly of those called to a life more active than contemplative, relies on its contemplative members to service the nets used in the exercise of its mission.

The contemplative state finds its greatest home in contemplative monastic orders, like the Benedictines and cloistered Carmelite nuns—their monasteries and cloisters are places of net mending par excellence. Just as ground zero for orders such as St. Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity, or the Dominicans as the Order of Preachers, and for lay organisations like St. Vincent de Paul, are places of net casting par excellence. Meanwhile, at the pulpit, and above all at the Altar where the Sacrifice of the Mass takes place, we find the ultimate place from where the net of the Church is both restored and cast, since through the priest, it is Christ Himself directly carrying out both roles.

In our own lives it is useful to be aware of the dual calling we have to be casters of the net and menders of the net, in addition to the unique emphasis this call might take according to our state of life and individual spirituality. No matter what we do in life we are always casting a net or repairing it, it is an existential metaphor for everything entailed our exterior and interior life. But whether we are helping the world repair its net, and are assisting Satan in casting it, so as to catch souls for hell, or whether we are helping the Church repair its net, and are assisting Jesus in casting it to catch souls for heaven, is up to us.

We may or may not, depending on the nature of God's call to us, need to leave behind the literal nets of our occupations and families, but whatever we do, as clergy or laity, actives or contemplatives, it can be done for love of Jesus, with the salvation of souls in mind. In this way we can be fishers of men for God, whether mostly casting the net or mending it, contributing to the Church's catch—catching hearts to know, love and serve Him too.


Sunday 12 January 2020

Joseph—Star of Bethlehem, Master of the Gifts

Joseph is not mentioned by Matthew in the epiphany narrative of the magi, but one can discern Joseph's presence symbolically in the Star of Bethlehem and in the gifts of the magi, given to Jesus, but entrusted to Joseph. What does this teach us about living a devotion to St. Joseph?

19th-century, wood-cut.
The three magi came a long way to adore the Infant Messiah. Experts in astronomy and aware of a coming divine Saviour among the Jews, they were guided by a star to Jerusalem. The Scripture only mentions “magi” in the plural it does not say there were three. But the notion of three magi is a long-held tradition largely inferred by the three gifts the magi gave. In the West the magi are known as Casper, Melchior and Balthasar.

It is unclear whether the “star” (ἀστηρ) that led the magi was an entirely natural phenomena, providentially arranged by God to announce Jesus’ birth, or miraculous. I’ll leave that discussion to others. The Greek text of Matthew does not directly say the star disappeared nor that it reappeared, which is the opinion of some, Augustine among them, but it is not mentioned by many other Fathers. Whether it disappeared or not, following the star, the magi ended up in Jerusalem.

The wise-men’s uncertainty about the precise location of the Messiah’s birth seems to suggest the star had led them either to Jerusalem itself, or more likely—in accord with the lack of precision a star would generally offer for navigation—to the land of Palestine or the general region of Judah. Having been led by the star to Palestine or even Judah itself, in the context of diplomacy, courtesy and their knowledge of prophecy, logic dictated they should go to the capital of the land and the entire region—Jerusalem, in order to make official inquiries about the newborn Messiah.

They arrived at King Herod’s palace and ask a simple and direct question: “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him.” (Mt 2:2). They expect an answer, but Herod is baffled and terrified at this news. Herod was unaware that the Jewish Messiah was immanent, never mind born! All Jerusalem seems equally surprised to hear the news— “and all Jerusalem with him” (2:3).

The narrative is brief, and we do not know if Herod pretended to keep face in the magi’s presence to avoid appearing ignorant. I doubt Herod’s ignorance was undetectable, the universal shock brought about by the magi’s indirect proclamation about the arrival of the Messiah shows that the news was so ‘shocking’ that it would have been hard for a passionate and paranoid man like Herod to keep his cool. The shock was palpable throughout the city. For their part, the magi were surprised, even scandalised, that the King of Judea and those about him seemed to be less aware of the Messiah’s birth than they were, who were foreigners.

Herod dismisses the magi from court and speaks to “the chief priests and scribes” (2:4) to find out where the Messiah will be born according to the Scriptures. The chief priests and scribes cite the prophet Micah (5:2) seemingly without hesitation. They were well aware where the Jewish Messiah would be born but were clearly oblivious to the when, indicated by their surprise in hearing the magi’s announcement. Symbolic of a future interdependence between the Jewish and Gentile people in the Church, the magi are armed with one piece of the puzzle, the knowledge of the when, and the Jewish authorities with the where.

Having ascertained the where, Herod summons the magi “secretly” and tells them to go to Bethlehem. He then probes them about when exactly they had seen the star. In this way he finds out directly and/or by means of his own calculation, or that of his officials, when the child was born. Frightened for his throne Herod intends to murder the child from the beginning.

As told, the magi set out for Bethlehem, the star presumably still shinning in the same location as before without immediately betraying any more information. In the minds of the magi the star was probably thought to have finished its part in the epiphany drama.

But Bethlehem was not the smallest town in the region and depending on how one interprets the timing of their arrival, it was possibly still swarming with people from the census or remnants thereof. Even if one opts for a later arrival so that the census was well and truly finished, directions to a town are not the same as directions to a house. If we ourselves needed directions to a house we’d never been to and our GPS gave us the name of the town alone, we’d hardly be able to find it! It is true, the magi could have asked around for clues, and would have stumbled across the Baby Jesus without much effort. Especially since we read in Luke that the shepherds somewhat locally publicised their encounter with the Infant. But God had other plans. God wanted to honour these men who had come so far to pay His Son homage. He also wanted to manifest His Son’s glory to the Gentiles “living in darkness” by showing them “a great light” (Is 9:2).

“And lo,” or “behold”—an interjection in this instance signifies a sudden occurrence— “the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was.” (Mt 2:9). Whatever celestial body or supernatural radiance the “star” of Bethlehem was, it suddenly moved while they were on their way from Jerusalem to Bethlehem—about a two hour walk— and led them, however quickly or slowly, in a manner that made it very clear where they should go. The star stops and hovers, as it were, over the place “where the child was”.

Matthew takes care to describe the joy of the magi: “When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy [ἐχάρησαν χαρὰν μεγάλην σφόδρα]” (2:10). As far as I can tell there is no other time in the New Testament when such superlative terminology is used in the Greek to describe someone’s sense of joy that outdoes the joy of the magi at beholding the star glowing and leading them. It’s not as if the star itself is the cause of their joy, but the fact that the star is leading and guiding them, in what seems more miraculous than natural, is a wonderous sign of God’s presence. The magi are greatly touched and thrilled by this sign. They thought the star had played its part in leading them to the region of Judah, but the wonderful sign that they had been anticipating for years and studying in the sky once again guides their way, but this time in a peculiar manner not in keeping with the ordinary movements of the celestial bodies they are used to studying.

The magi enter “the house” where the star is hovering over, and there, in the words of Matthew, “they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.” (2:11).

‘Joseph… Where are You?’


Notice how there is no mention of Joseph. This doesn’t mean Joseph wasn’t there, the child was the star of the show and the all-consuming focus of the magi’s pilgrimage. Perhaps Joseph was in the house or the same very room, and Mary is mentioned only because Jesus was in Mary’s arms or by her side just as the text suggests: “the child [was] with Mary his Mother”. Contrarily, Joseph could have been in another room or outside when they walked in, or temporarily running an errand. There is room for either opinion, Joseph’s absence or presence, and both are attested to in the history of interpretation. Either way, it’s highly unlikely the magi stayed for a mere few minutes, and given Joseph’s role as a new husband and father with the greatest wife and child in the history of the world, it’s inconceivable he would have been away for long. Joseph would almost certainly have met the magi even if it was after their immediate arrival.

Rabanus (d. 856) writes that “Joseph was absent by Divine command” when the magi arrived so “that no wrong suspicions might occur to the Gentiles.” I assume Rabanus is referring to how if Joseph was present then the Gentile magi might have wrongly suspected that Joseph was the biological father and thus doubt could have clouded their encounter with the child. However, it’s not as if Joseph was going to remain a secret to them. They would have encountered him before they left or found out about him. The reasoning is not without some merit, but Rabanus’ assertion is unconvincing.

A pretext for suspicion would have been presented to the magi at some point and this thus undermines the supposed necessity or utility of Joseph’s physical absence by “divine decree”—to allay a temporary suspicion but not a later suspicion. Also, if their minds were liable to suspicion, they could equally suspect Mary of conjugal relations outside of marriage—facilitated by Joseph’s absence, just as they could suspect Her of relations with Joseph—facilitated by Joseph’s presence. The magi were likely aware of the Isaian prophecy about a “virgin” (7:14), and having travelled so far, exhibiting such faith and knowledge about the Messiah, it is likely their minds were secure from such suspicions or doubts—if any doubts remained the “star” would have dispelled them. Their exceeding joy at seeing the star rest over where the Child resided is testament to their personal faith that they had found the Messiah even before they had entered the house and set their eyes upon Him. Seeing Joseph was not going to dampen their conviction that the Child was the Messiah. Besides, St. John Chrysostom, among others, is of the contrary view—Joseph was present when the magi arrived.[1]

I personally favour the view that Joseph was present for one among several reasons: that it was deemed socially unbecoming in Jewish and some other Ancient Near Eastern cultures for a married woman to be left alone with men who were not of a fitting relation, particularly strangers. It seems improbable that God would expose Mary to social critique, even if the chance was slim, and unlikely the magi would discourteously barge in without the presence of her husband. I think God would have providentially ensured Joseph was present when the magi arrived. I imagine Joseph opening the door or gesturing the magi to enter. In the glorious foci of the moment and culmination of their pilgrimage, Joseph humbly disappears, and all attention is on the Christ Child perhaps laying in His mother’s arms.

Nevertheless, our concern in this article is not the historical fact of Joseph’s presence or absence, but to infer a spiritual allegory based upon his absence in the text of Matthew. This meaning can be inferred whatever stance one holds.

Meaning of the Star


To say nothing about other possible extant prophecies circulating among the Judeans and in the countries of the magi, the significance of the star in its association with the promised Messiah harkens to the prophecy of Balaam who lived in the time of Moses: “A star shall come from Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise from Israel” (Num 24:17), with an attached promise that this “star” and “sceptre” shall deliver Israel from its enemies. Even many Jews (e.g. among the Dead Sea Scrolls) before and after the time of Christ saw the Messianic connotations of this prophecy.

The Christian tradition has always seen the “star… from Judah” (and “sceptre… from Israel”) as an image of Jesus. The star of Bethlehem is explicitly tied to this prophecy of Balaam—it is a celestial manifestation of its literal fulfillment in the Christ Child—the figurative “star” who will rise from the House of Judah and illumine the world.

There are many layers to Scriptural meaning. The phrasing of the prophecy particularly lends itself to multiple interpretations. Thus, Bernard of Clairvaux, and others after him, have associated the “star… from Judah” as Mary whom he hails under the title of Stella Maris, ‘Star of the Sea’. “She is… that noble star rising from Jacob which casts light over the whole world; whose splendour shines to the heavens and reaches down into the deep”.[2] Jesus of course always remains the “star… from Jacob” in a superior sense, but Mary is also a star from the stock of Jacob, that points to Christ and leads to Him. Hence the star of Bethlehem has been identified as a symbol of Mary Herself—She who leads souls to Christ Her Son.

After the prime and secondary meaning of “the star” of Bethlehem or Jacob—distinct on one level and synonymous on another—there is a third and fourth signification. The third being the Josephite interpretation, and the fourth, a general referent to all other members of the Church, we who are called to be stars in the night of the world, letting our light shine before men, leading souls to the Christ (Mt 5:16). Under this signification the star of Bethlehem can serve specifically as a sign of the Papal office on one hand or even of each individual member of the Church whatever station we may occupy. However, our focus here is on the third layer of interpretation: Joseph.

Joseph—The Star from out of Jacob


A Midrashic reading of the Hebrew creatively twists the text to bring forth additional spiritual meanings without negating the truth of its literal signification. Balaam’s prophecy can be read in such a way to accommodate for the symbolism of Joseph as the promised star—after Jesus, and after Mary. “A star shall come out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel”. Both the “star” and the “sceptre” refer principally to Christ. But the text can be read on another level, in such a way that the “star” and the “sceptre” are separate: “A star shall come out of Jacob,” one referent, that is to Joseph,” and “a sceptre shall rise out of Israel”—the Messiah.

In accord with the grammatical order of Balaam’s prophecy, the “star” must precede the “sceptre,” and like in the narrative of Matthew, the “star” must precede the Child: Joseph must come before Jesus—not as a necessity of nature, since Jesus did not need to be “born of a woman” and could never be conceived by a man, but according to the necessity of God’s own willed design in the Incarnation: the Father’s Son was to have an earthly man for a (non-biological but true) father and this man was to be Joseph.

Matthew writes that Joseph was the son of Jacob.[3] All Jews were the sons of the Patriarch Jacob, but there is a double fulfillment of “a star shall come out of Jacob” in the person of Joseph whose biological father was also named Jacob. The “out of” language of Matthew correlates with Balaam’s prophecy: “Then Jacob begat Joseph, the husband of Mary, out of whom Jesus was born, the one called Christ” (1:16).

Tying the two texts together: Joseph, the “star from out of” Jacob came before Jesus, “the sceptre from out of” Mary—the Sceptre which Mary holds in Her arms. The magi saw Mary as a Queen bearing the Sceptre in the form of a Mother holding Her Child. The literal star led the magi to this sight at Bethlehem, but it was Joseph who led the Mother and the Child to Bethlehem in taking the pregnant Mary from Nazareth to his ancestral town for the census. A journey he had to make because he was the son of Jacob, son of David. Thus, it was primarily Joseph (the substantial means) and not the literal star (the accidental means) that led the magi to the Child and the Mother who wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for Joseph. The magi are able to encounter the Child and the Mother because of Joseph who brought them to where the star directed them. The magi receive Jesus and Mary ‘from out of’ Joseph— their loving custodial source, as Father and Spouse. We too can encounter our Messiah and His Mother in the home of our heart because Joseph has given them to us as a gift from the Father.

“A star shall come from out of Jacob”—the word translated “come” (דָּרַךְ) in the Hebrew can also mean “lead” or “march”. Thus it can be read, “a star shall lead…” or “a star shall march”. Joseph is the true star that leads us to a deeper relationship with Jesus and Mary. He marches on before us to make our way easier in navigating this world plagued by temptations, devilish snares and distractions that want to lead us away from He who should be the focus of our pilgrimage: the Child and in turn the Mother who holds Him.

Joseph—The Star of Bethlehem


We’ve already mentioned how Matthew’s account of the magi’s arrival excludes any mention of Joseph. The magi follow the star and “going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother” (11:2). Forever enshrined in writing is the inseparability of the Child and His Mother. The magi wanted the Child and they found the Mother also. That is the deal: if one wants to discover the Christ Child one will only ever find Him in Mary’s arms. It is only a cause for pity when the Mother is airbrushed out of the picture of a Christian’s spiritual life. This only does injustice to the full picture—“the child with Mary his mother”—those of good will are led to by the star of Bethlehem that still shines in our day.

There is no mention of Joseph in the entire section of this epiphany narrative. Matthew mentions Joseph beforehand, prior the birth of Jesus, and after, when the magi leave and the Holy Family flees to Egypt. We’ll avoid speculating about Matthew’s authorial intention, but it is clear that the ultimate author of the Sacred Writ, the Holy Spirit, forgoes an explicit mention of Joseph, opting instead to implicitly reveal Joseph’s role in the star of Bethlehem.

Like the star of Bethlehem Joseph is a silent guide and witness to “the child” and “the mother”.[4] As the celestial sign “went before” the magi, this true star of Bethlehem has gone before us, both in time, in being the first to nurture a relationship with “the child” and “the mother,” and in the order of grace—for none can outdo Joseph in sanctity, a sanctity that derives from his proximity to Jesus, through Mary, and a sanctity which renders him unparalleled in this same very proximity. Joseph’s sanctity is only outshined by Jesus and Mary, and that is what we can take from the spiritual projection of Joseph away from the literal narrative, that mentions both Jesus and Mary, into the hidden symbolism of the star.

Other possibilities aside, and for the sake of argument, if the star hadn’t led the magi to the exact house they would not have found “the child and… his mother”. The guiding of the star was God’s chosen way of directing the magi to Jesus and thus necessarily to Mary. God did not choose another way of effecting the epiphany at Bethlehem. Joseph is God’s chosen way—the guiding star He has anointed to lead souls to Jesus and Mary. No one comes to Jesus and Mary unless Joseph leads them. Whether a Christian is aware of this or not, acknowledges it or not, Joseph is the silent mediating guide of the Christian soul. The chosen vessel of the Father. The universal spiritual director who directs each Christian soul from the heavens, a role indicated by his title, proclaimed by Pope Pius IX—Patron of the Universal Church. Beyond the visible bounds of Church membership, it is Joseph who acts as a spiritual director to all souls—attempting to lead every soul from every nation and creed into the maternal arms of Mary for the single purpose of the worship of Jesus. How does Joseph do this? By leading souls into his house—the House of the Holy Catholic Church where Jesus resides in His fullness, both spiritually in the Body of His Church, and sacramentally, in the Holy Eucharist.

In our personal lives Joseph plays a quiet guiding role. It can be no other way because God the Father has chosen Joseph to be the chief instrument of His loving Paternity: first for Christ Jesus in the flesh, and secondly, and as a continuation of this irrevocable office, for the Body of Christ Jesus—the Church. The Star of Bethlehem is with us, secretly drawing us towards grace and a deeper union with Jesus and Mary. But as the magi did their part—they did not remain in their home countries in passive awe of the star, they went forward, took action, and only by this cooperation of the magi was the star of Bethlehem able to become an effective presence in their lives.

So too we must take action if we want to follow the way of the Star, the way of Joseph. Not an activist type of action, but a dutiful action, contemplatively honed-in on the Child and the Mother, by which we carry out our lives in accord with whatever path the Lord has laid down for us—whether we’re magi or nurses, priests or nuns, parents or single youth. There is one way to Bethlehem, the Way of Joseph, the Child Jesus Himself. The life of Joseph shines as a witness, mapping out this Way. But how this Way is traversed looks a little different for each soul. Each of us has different callings, their own way to walk the Way to Bethlehem, a symbol of beatitude perhaps, and also a symbol of key moments of epiphany, of grace, marked out for us in our pilgrim way.

“The Star Stood Over”


And lo, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the child was. (2:9)

Literally in the Greek this translates to the following: the star “stood over [ἐστάθη ἐπάνω] where the child was”. The Peshitta uses the same: “it stood over/upon [קם לעל] where the child was.” This figuratively evokes the paternal and spousal role of Joseph as joint custodian and protector of the Child and the Mother. Joseph stands over the Child and the Mother as the Guarding Watchman, the Preeminent Pastor of the Holy Family. He stands over Jesus and Mary, not as a dominative force, but in selfless attentiveness to their needs. Joseph stands as an original adorer of the Christ Child, and the original devotee of the Blessed Virgin.

He continues to stand in heaven in loving awe of the Child and His Mother, and still today stands over the presence of Christ within the hearts of those in the state of grace. As an abiding star in the life of the faithful, Joseph, more than any other Saint except Mary, by means of the Holy Spirit operative in him, radiates blessings from the Father upon the children of the Church—his children and Mary’s children.

The magi were filled with an “exceedingly great joy” at seeing the star show them where the Christ Child lay. It is possible, even likely, that others also saw the phenomenon of the star, but without a corresponding knowledge of what the star and its strange movement signified, such onlookers would have only felt wonder and excitement, not really joy, and especially not an “exceedingly great joy”. The magi alone, among a few others who may have known about the star and its association with the Messiah, experienced an unparalleled joy because they knew what it all meant—they understood the divine message the star was meant to communicate.

So too, there is reserved to those who come to know and learn about the true Star of Bethlehem an “exceedingly great joy”. This kind of knowledge is borne through a true devotion to St. Joseph by which one is led to discover the Christ Child and His Mother anew, in unprecedented ways. Exercising the spiritual office of fatherhood, Joseph generates—as the chosen instrument of the Father—an “exceedingly great joy” in those who follow in his steps, unawares, yes, but especially, in those who do so consciously. Not that true devotion to Joseph requires astute consciousness per say, but a simple childlike recognition of Joseph and a willing disposition to follow his lead, to reach out and take his hand as a spiritual father and guide, trusting that the Father works in Joseph and through Joseph, and that Joseph will bring one closer to the Child, and necessarily, closer to the Mother.

The “exceedingly great joy” generated by Joseph in the hearts of those who live a devotion to him is not a joy that comes from Joseph as its source. Yes, it does come from Joseph as a means, but not as its only and final end. As great a man as Joseph is, he is a mere creature. It is a joy of the Holy Spirit that comes from the Father above, is made flesh in the Child, is nurtured by the Mother, and bestowed by the appointed Father of God—St. Joseph.

Joseph is the Father of Joy—entrusted by the Eternal Father with His very own Joy, the Holy Spirit, Who is the Exceedingly Great Joy of the Father in the Son, and the Son in the Father. In entrusting Mary, both Spouse and Icon of the Holy Spirit, and Her Child to Joseph, Joseph sacramentally comes to share in the Father’s Holy-Spirit-Joy in the Son. By the very nature of this office Joseph is thus ordained with the mission of drawing souls into the very joy he had in Jesus and Mary. A joy manifest in what is traditionally held as the second of Joseph’s seven major joys: the joy of Joseph in beholding the magi recognise and worship the Child Jesus as God and Messiah.

The Magi's Gifts in Joseph’s Charge



Going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh. (2:11)

The three gifts of the magi were offerings that signified their faith in the Child Jesus and served as sacramentals of their worship. Yet Jesus was only a child. In submitting and restraining Himself to this vulnerable form, God the Son relinquished His immediate ownership of these gifts and humbly submitted in turn to the Virginal Fatherhood of Joseph whom He willed to be His Guardian. As Head of the Holy Family, a title of privileged authority, yes, but of service not domination, the legal ownership of the magi’s gifts fell to Joseph as the appointed Father of the Child. The gifts were given to Jesus, but their charge fell to Joseph who would be responsible for their use.

This is an amazing thing to consider: that gifts given to a God were owned by a man. That God chose and selected this man, Joseph, to be the steward of His gifts. There is a tradition that Joseph used some of the gifts to aid in their escape to Egypt, and an amount was also given to the needs of the poor.

For our part it is worth contemplating on the significance of Joseph as the Original Treasurer of God’s Kingdom. Even more than this, the magi’s gifts were really given over to Joseph as his legal property. We mustn’t think for one moment that Joseph reveled in this ownership in a covetous or proud manner. He was aware that the gifts belonged to His Child and to His God, the Creator of all things, and would have been humbled at the responsibility of owning and discharging these gifts on behalf of his God-Child.

If God entrusted Joseph with valuable gifts given by the magi for the purpose of worship, and entrusted His own Son, and Mary, to Joseph, how much more would God not want us to entrust our own selves to this Great Saint. God entrusted Himself to Joseph in the form of a Child, how proud and resistant can we be to deny to do the same?

The irony is that in giving ourselves to Jesus, whether as God-Child or God-Man it’s the same, we necessarily submit ourselves to the design of the Incarnation—and this necessitates, because Joseph has forever been made an essential part of the Incarnation Mystery, our filial submission to Joseph. The human parents of Christ are the parents of His Body the Church. How much better and more perfect this filial submission to Joseph is as our spiritual father, and as the Head of the Holy Family, when it is made with awareness and a loving free will. It’s funny how scandalous this can sound to the ears of many Christians when this loving submission (or to simply appease modern sensibilities—when this entrustment) to Joseph is nothing other than what the magi did, who knew the gifts they gave were going to be entrusted to Joseph, and nothing other than what God Himself did in giving His Son and His Mother into Joseph’s care.

Alas, we don’t have time to waste on apologetics here. We can only get straight to the point.

As part of entrusting ourselves, consecrating ourselves to Joseph, is the handing over of our temporal and spiritual goods. This includes our home, work, vocation, faculties of intellect, memory and will, the theological virtues of faith, hope and love, and our entire interior and exterior lives.

Everything we own in the natural and supernatural order as gifts from God, already ‘belong’ to Joseph by default as the Custodian of Creation and of God’s Grace. One cannot be made Custodian of the Child Jesus who is God, without being made a custodian of all the graces and all creation that comes from God.

Yet it is our own free will offering that allows Joseph to actualise his spiritual office of fatherhood in our lives. Just as with any child and their own father, it is only when the child asks their father for help, and lets their father help, that the child can perfectly benefit from their father’s help that was always there in potential—keen and waiting to be actualised. Joseph is eager to help us as a Spiritual Father, just as he was to Jesus. To make an act of consecration to Joseph is simply a way of saying: “Joseph, I acknowledge that you were chosen by God the Father to be the appointed Father to His Son. I too choose you to be a Spiritual Father to me, just as you were to Jesus.”

Many Catholics already do this with regard to Mary, and this is wonderful. But our entrustment and consecration to Mary is made complete by our consecration to Joseph. It is the intrinsic complement to Marian consecration and the third piece of the puzzle when it comes to living out our primal and first consecration to God in the Person of Jesus—the source and summit of our Marian and Josephite consecration which help build and perfect the first.

However, a consecration does not subsist in a single act of entrustment. A consecration subsists in a new life which is ratified or birthed by means an act of consecration. By consecrating ourselves to Joseph then, we set about on a new way of life that explicitly includes Joseph as a Spiritual Father, Guide, Patron and Friend in our lives. We should not expect visions nor a heightened consciousness of Joseph’s role in our lives—this is unsound spirituality and would be indicative of an immature faith. What comes to us, comes to us, what does not, does not. In either case the essence of a true devotion or lived consecration to Joseph is beyond any specific perception or mystical gift. Like the star, Joseph is an illuminating but quiet presence whose presence is felt by the light he shines on the Child and the Mother. One will find their love for Jesus and Mary growing, their awe over the Eternal Father expanding, as fruits of their Josephite consecration; and it will not be because of the soul’s increased holiness per say—that will be incidental and is relatively nothing. It will be because the soul is being drawn deeper into communion with Joseph and is coming to share in Joseph’s very own love for Jesus and Mary, and in his awe over the Father who chose him.

Conclusion


The magi followed the star of Bethlehem and it led them to the Child and His Mother. Once they entered the house the magi worshiped the Child and gave Him three gifts. Joseph is the personal Star of Bethlehem who was really responsible for bringing the Child and His Mother into Bethlehem, and as Head of the Holy Family he served as the Custodian of the Magi’s Gifts.

Just like the magi, we too are called to follow the Star of Bethlehem—Joseph who has been appointed by God to lead souls to the Child Jesus and to Mary His Mother. In committing ourselves to the guidance of this Star we will discover a Spiritual Director and Spiritual Father in our lives. One who does not supplant the role of the Eternal Father to whom all-worship belongs, but who magnifies the Unseeable Father by mirroring Him in his visible person—invisible to us now, as we travail our way to the heavenly Bethlehem, but whose guidance and patronage is made visible in the fruits of an increased knowledge and love for the Child and the Mother.

If we consecrate ourselves to Joseph as the guiding star of our lives, our three gifts given to Joseph for the worship of the Child, will not be gold, frankincense and myrrh, but our faith, hope, and love; our intellect, memory, and will; our past, present, and future—which no matter how flimsy and imperfect, Joseph will make his own and will do with them something wonderful for the betterment of our sanctity, the wellbeing of the Mystical Body of Christ his Son, and for the glory of the Holy Family, His Spouse Mary, and ultimately for Jesus—the Son for whom Joseph shines, and the Father in whom he stands.



[1] In reference to Chrysostom speaking about the joys of Joseph in seeing the star rest over the dwelling and the magi adore the Christ Child. Referenced without citation in Edward Healy Thomason, The Life and Glories of St. Joseph (Burns and Oates: London, 1888), Chp. 32.
[2] Bernard of Clairvaux, In Praise of the Virgin Mary, Homily II, 17: Ch. 390.
[3] What about Luke’s genealogy that says Joseph was the son of Heli? Luke’s genealogy is that of Mary, Matthew’s of Joseph. Heli, synonymous in Biblical usage with Eliakim and Joachim, was Joseph’s father in-law or legal father, that is, Mary’s biological father. This makes sense since Luke is detailing Mary’s genealogy with reference to Joseph. This is an opinion mentioned by Augustine and attributable to Jerome. See Ch VI The Life and Glories of Saint Joseph.
[4] In Greek, literally: “the child and the mother of him”.