The Quiet Man

This was the title of the film version of one of  Maurice West's books long ago.  It was one of those wonderful stories  where there is a strong, silent hero and a beautiful red-haired heroine who are of course at cross purposes until the end of the film.  I loved it.

 But I want to talk about another quiet man, perhaps the  quintessential strong, silent man who, nontheless,  is always there in the background, taking charge, shouldering the responsibility  he has been asked to assume without fuss and without any congratulatory messages appearing on his website, if he could have owned one, but of course it was too early for that.

He was, of course, the son of Jesse, called Joseph. Joseph bar Jesse is more familiarly known to us as Joseph, the husband of Mary of Nazareth, and the foster father of Jesus, Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, Son of the Eternal, immutable, transcendent God who created the world out of nothing, the one who is the arbiter of our destiny, and the judge of our world. We could go on....

Joseph was responsible for the well-being of the Messiah.  He was charged with the responsibility of providing for his needs, teaching him, with Mary of course, his prayers, and training him in his own trade of carpenter, seeing that he went to school and presumably kept out of trouble!  Well, not through Jesus himself of course, but through the envy and jealousy of others.  That would have hurt Joseph. But he just got on with what he was asked to do, remaining always in the background, but always there for support, advice or some father/son activity. He must have been a lovely father.

 

It was Joseph who was awakened in the night to pull up sticks and take Mary and the child into a far country to get away from the vengeance of the blood-thirsty and ambitious Herod.  It was Joseph who looked back fearfully as he heard the clang of the soldier's harnesses and the screams of babies and their poor mothers as the children of Judea were snatched from their cradles and murdered because of his foster son.

It was  terrifying for him, as he fought to protect the child and his young wife. He must have felt terrible. Knowing that, had Jesus not been there, living under the nose of the tetrarch Herod, this massacre would never have taken place.  Judah's cradles would have been full, and his family would have been safe along with all the young families around him. It was a hard burden to bear, especially as he had to live virtually as a migrant worker, a refugee in a foreign land for some years, getting work where he could, mastering a strange language, learning to live among unbelievers and often hostile people.  We don't know how he felt, but we can imagine it.  There are many parallels today when people have to flee their homes in terror from some despot or other.  We see it frequently on our television screens.  It is a constant tragedy that families are uprooted and terrorised.  Joseph knew their terror, and he is the one who will help them now.

So the quiet man of Nazareth saw the child Jesus grow into a handsome, sunburnt man who went about doing good.  We don't know when Joseph died, but we know that he had a formulative influence on the growing Jesus.  What a wonderful vocation! I love to think of him teaching Jesus the skills of a carpenter.  It must have been such a joy to him. Do you know this poem about Jesus being brought up with wood, and the irony of his death on a wooden cross?  It is worth thinking about as the 19th March nears, the feast of Joseph, now the patron of the universal Church and help of all those who have to leave their homeland.  Here is the poem:

He who grew up with wood around

ran with infant feet upon sawdust ground.

Who in childhood played with wooden toys

made by a caring father,

yet with youthful hand learned to whittle wood,

shaping pieces to his own command.

What dreadful irony decreed that wood should be

his instrument of death, and could it be

that Joseph once embraced that traitor tree?

Did splinters stab his arms when outstretched

for the nailing of his palms?

Or, did familiarity carve comfort even then

evoking honest, kindly men, ladies

or the mother's chair and a working carpenter?  

(Anon.)

It was a working carpenter, a quiet man, who first shaped those baby hands to appreciate the feel and tension of the wood.  It was the quiet man's influence that remained, along with the love of his mother, at the end.

A happy feast of St. Joseph to everybody!!

 

The Resurrection

A happy Easter to all of you!  We have journeyed through Lent, and experienced the loneliness and the fear of the Passion, as well as the heart-warming act of Jesus as Servant, washing the feet of his disciples, and then giving us the wonderful gift of the Eucharist.  I suppose many of you celebrated the Seder meal, and became part of the first New Testament Seder, picturing Jesus going out into the darkness towards Gethsemane with the beautiful sound of the Hallel psalms ringing in his ears, yet knowing he was betrayed and soon would be captured and disowned.  But now we are warming ourselves, not at the brazier of Peter which just took away for a time the cold winds of fear and guilt, but the great sun of the Resurrected world.  Alleluia!

May I share with you another Resurrection?  I’m sure you have many of your own, which I would love to hear, but I’ve always been captivated by this one. Please send in your own stories of hope after despair.  Jesus offers us the fruits of his rising from the dead all the time. 

Here is my contribution:

An old man shuffled painfully along the cobbled streets of London.  He was stooped, awkward and obviously in pain. His face was pale and there were lines of pain etched deeply on his cheeks.  People passed him by, avoiding his eyes which seemed bitter and hard.  His name was George Frederic Handel.  The great musician of the 18^th century.  He had suffered a stroke some months before, and doctors held out little hope of his survival. “I am finished!” he said to himself. “I can no longer compose music.  I cannot hear those wonderful melodies in my head.  Point and counterpoint harmony no longer have any meaning for me.  I might as well die!”  Despondently he shuffled back to his lodgings.

When he got there he found a thick wad of paper rolled in a parcel standing on the hall table.  “Not another MS”, he muttered. “Will they never realise that I am no longer a musician?”  Listlessly he picked it up.  It was from his friend who had always supported him, so, listlessly he tore open the paper.  It was the story of the life of Christ.   He read on, without much interest, until he saw this:

“.. the crowds were appalled at seeing him, so disfigured did he look, that he seemed no longer human,… “   “Like a sapling he grew up in front of us, like a root in arid ground. Without beauty, without majesty we saw him no looks to attract our eyes, a thing despised and rejected by men. A man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. A man to make people screen their faces. He was despised, and we took no account of him.”   Fourth Servant Song:  Isaiah 52: 11 – 15.

“Why, that’s me!” he cried, “I am despised and of no account too!”  So, fascinated, he read on.

Afterwards he was to say:  “I saw the heavens open and I heard the most beautiful music.  Words poured into my mind.  “He was despised and rejected yet by his wounds we are healed.  I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVETH” he cried exultingly at the four walls of his hallway.  ALLELUIA!  For ten days he never came out of his room, refusing to eat or drink.  But he gave us The Messiah.  His greatest work.  The most famous oratorio in the world. 

London refused to put it on, as they thought he was finished.  So he went to Dublin, and they gave us “Oh thou who bringest good tidings to Sion”  “He was despised”  “I know that my redeemer liveth”  and of course the famous Alleluia chorus.  And so many more.... Handel lived on for some years after this, and became the most feted musician of the time.  Everywhere he went, he brought the portfolio of The Messiah.  It was his Resurrection. 

What are your experiences of Resurrection?  Thank God for them today, and go about humming “Alleluia, alleluia, alle- luia!"  Enjoy this wonderful time - the Springtime of the Church and ours too.

God bless.