The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
Facing the unknown, especially for long stretches of time, can drain us. Whether it’s the unknown of our futures, our health, or the lives of our families and friends, sitting in a holding pattern is deeply exhausting. Sometimes clarity comes quick, or even all at once, and sometimes it eclipses the unknown little by little.
We see this slow and steady clarity start to settle over Joseph in today’s Gospel, as he wrestles with the unknown of his and Mary’s situation. He is given what may seem to us like a direct explanation, when an angel reveals the nature of Jesus’ conception. But we only understand the words for what they are because we have some insight into the rest of the story. Joseph did not. Yet he took Mary into his home immediately, despite his remaining questions. He trusted the slowness of this holy clarity, and in the meantime did the next right thing.
My favorite Christmas hymn, O Holy Night!, prods at this mysterious trust. It speaks of the birth of our dear Savior, a baby somehow destined to save the world. Infants are fragile, vulnerable, and beholden to the provision of their caretakers. They can't earn, accomplish, or prove themselves. And yet at this baby's birth, the soul of the bystander felt its worth.
With a thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices at the nativity of this baby—this unexpected liberator, this unimposing king. And it rejoices without knowing exactly what comes next. It rejoices while still in the midst of the unknown.
The shepherds in the surrounding fields, the kings who traveled for miles to offer him gifts, his own parents in that little stable—none were privy to knowledge of his future miracles, his brutal death at the hands of his own community, or his ultimate resurrection.
Yet all would fall on their knees on that most divine night—and even still we are brought to our knees in thanksgiving and awe. The unknown persists, but this baby brings an eclipsing clarity of heart that moves people to rejoice against all reason. This baby brings a new morning to hope.
We have so few stories of Joseph in the Gospels. In the literary sense, he’s not a main character. But the few times we are given a glimpse into his thinking, we see how like us he is. Joseph worried. He wondered and grew weary. He didn’t always have the answer, but he trusted the pace of revelation and strove to do the next right thing. May we learn from Joseph’s example and rejoice at his side, not hiding our own worries but allowing hope to thrill us. And may we fall on our knees in sweet relief that a good God is with us, even in the unknown.
Hannah Kelley is a national security researcher in Washington, D.C.. She likes the idea of being a runner more than the reality and has a constant mixtape playing in her head. In her free time, Hannah enjoys visiting her family (especially her niece, Jane) and working towards a society where it’s easier for people to choose the good. Come say hi on Twitter!
