Joseph’s Story Read at Lambrick Park's Christmas Eve Service/December 2019 We’re an hour away from Bethlehem, my childhood home. I want to run, to beat nightfall and to provide Mary with safety and shelter. A donkey-induced labour helps no one though, so we’ll walk slow. Our ten-day journey nears its end. “Mary, see that hill. The one with the date palm and the large rock. My buddy James and I battled giants, lions and Philistines there. Sometimes I’d be King David, sometimes Goliath; sometimes a shepherd, sometimes a wolf. Sticks became swords and palm leaves slingshots. Israel always slayed her enemies.” Suddenly, I hear a scuffle and rocks tumble down a steep incline ahead. Someone must be hiding in the cave above. My chest tightens, as I spot four human shadows. I hope they don’t intend to attack. I pull the donkey’s rope closer and nudge the traveller beside us. He sees too. “Joseph,” Mary asks, “Can you remind me about your dream? Remind me why you changed your mind.” Maybe a reminder will help us through. “I didn’t get a surprise visitor. Instead, a surprise pregnancy. My bride-to-be carried someone else’s child and the story seemed impossible. Your miracle was my betrayal. I wept. I yelled. My idea of home gone. The hope of you as my wife and the mother of my children crushed. To ignore it hurt too much. I’d protect you, bear the brunt of others’ anger, support your child but I couldn’t be the husband and father. Until the dream that changed everything. An angel met me in my sleep and his words burned within me. He stated the child was God’s gift through the Holy Spirit. That you accepted an invitation and I could too. I could father God’s Son Jesus, the one who will save his people. I’d never experienced a dream so real. I woke, certain. My future seemed big and wide rather than narrow and stuck. I’d marry you, believe you, and father Jesus. God helped me to step forward. The shadows pass and Bethlehem breaks into our view. We’re almost home. As we enter the city, Roman officials command a crowd of Israelites to leave the census line for the night and to return tomorrow. Weary faces disperse. Another wasted day waiting. We live in Israel’s holy land but she’s still not free. She escaped Babylon and exile only to pay taxes to Rome. My youthful games on the hill are far from the reality of our nation. Our enemies live. “Joseph, it’s time,” Mary urges, “Jesus is coming now.” “Hold on,” I beg. I weave through the streets until my fist finds a familiar door. In an instant, I’m enclosed in my father’s arms. Home. But where will Mary rest? My brothers’ families and their mats cover the guest room floor. The roof’s full too. Mary cannot give birth here. My sister-in-law hustles past me. “Joseph I’ll get the midwife. We’ll think of something.” “What if we make space down with the animals,” my mother suggests. I cringe but Mary nods in desperation. I help her down into the cave beneath our house. It’s dark and the atmosphere is all wrong. Musty-straw and manure sting my nose. The stone walls feel like a tomb, a place to bury the dead. Is this where a King is born? I’m afraid. I thought I made it home but Mary is still outside in the cold with the donkeys. What if we were fools to believe an angel and a dream? What if the baby is a girl? What if I lose my wife? Oh God, I believe what you’ve spoken is true. Keep your promises. Save Mary. Save us. Hours pass. Rhythms of silence and noise. My breath releases every time I hear her voice. She’s okay. And then a new sound--a baby’s cry. I sigh relief but my body stays tense. My mother bursts into the house, eyes bright, teeth white, wrinkles deep with joy. “It’s a boy. Joseph, your boy is here.” Tears flow and I run to Mary. She places the linen-wrapped baby in my arms and I stare with wonder at my son. I lift his tiny fingers with one of mine. Will these fragile arms grip a sword one day? “Small and tender Jesus, I’ll hold you close while Mama sleeps. You fought and won today’s battle already.” Copyright Chavon Barry 2019
1 Comment
12/21/2020 07:08:18 pm
Chavon, you are an incredibly talented writer! I really enjoyed this and loved the Mary perspective, too. I hope you have a very blessed Christmas!
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Chavon BarryChavon is a new writer from Victoria, British Columbia. She wrestles with simple answers and is learning to listen, to be still with God. Archives
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