
Part 2
The Betrothal ceremony was soon arranged, Zachariah, from the Temple stood for Josephs future wife’s behalf, a covenant promised but yet to be fulfilled.
Joseph had little to offer as a dowry. As the youngest son, all the wealth and land had gone to his older brothers. He had been given just one precious item, handed on to him from his mother after his father Jacob had died and they had come under the wing of Heli his Paternal Uncle. As riches went, it was pathetic, a meagre offering, but so beyond price to him that he hoped his bride would see the beauty of it. He prayed she had the nature that would see the intention of his heart in giving it to her, “another honest prayer, Adonai” he thought as he rolled the small wrapped package in his hands. It had been years since he had even cast his eyes upon it. He unwrapped the brown and marked linen and unfolded the fine cloth within it, and safely contained within that, looking darker and more tarnished than he had recalled was the silver chalice of Joseph his forefather.
Whilst his brothers had received the blessings and land Joseph held a small remnant of the history of his family in his hands. The story of the Chalice was told on many an evening, so many times that everyone knew it word for word. Sat around the table on Shabbat, one of his brothers would start the story, another take it over and so it went, Using different voices and accents for the brothers and Pharaoh, Joseph always keen to take the role of his namesake. “Go and ask Joseph” Pharaoh has said, his favourite line as a child. They would always end in unison with the words of old Jacob “Now I can believe you! My son Joseph must really be alive, and I will get to see him before I die.” Joseph remembered the swelling in his heart at those last words, how Cherished his forefather had been, chosen for a role no other would fulfil, how his toil and struggle were an offering to save his family. He could not see much resemblance in himself, except the dreams, his dreams had always been vivid and obscure, yet he did not share his ancestors gift for interpreting them. He spent the night polishing the Chalice, singing psalms of thanksgiving.
Simeon and Anna stood as a witnesses along with Zechariah and Elizabeth at the ceremony. Zechariah led the ceremony, confidently leading Joseph into his vows, “See, by this gift thou are set apart for me, according to the law of Moses and of Israel” he said clearly and resolutely. He then presented the Chalice in a polished cedar box to his future bride.
Perhaps every man feels as though He is about to enter the biggest calling upon his life, he thought, maybe it is common to feel that sense of expectation, excitement so closely linked with fear that it takes God himself to distinguish which is which. His bride remained veiled throughout, Joseph found this helpful, he had of course already briefly laid eyes upon her, but as their betrothal was to be for some months, it was best he didn’t hold that image in his head, the image of his pure, beautiful bride stealing his sleep. It was agreed that seven months would be an acceptable time for Joseph to prepare his home, his life and his heart to welcome his bride in a fitting manner. He did not see if his gift was well received, but he prayed the submission of his life would compensate for whatever was lacking in his physical offering.
Joseph spent the next four months preparing his home, crafting a humble, small palace for his coming Queen, as the days neared he worked harder, often through the night, carving tables, candlesticks, trying to anticipate all that his bride could need and all that a husband of limited means should provide. Though they had barely spoken he was aware of the deepest love already burning in his heart for her, her purity like a diamond he felt could never be worthy to touch or scar in anyway. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way, perhaps this was the way of every groom he thought.
News came from Zechariah via a messenger from the Temple. His bride was going to visit Elizabeth for some months as she was with child. The arrangements had been made and Joseph was to formalise the marriage in three months time. He was to come to the hill country and after the contract had been completed He could bring his new wife home.
When the time came Joseph borrowed a mule to carry his beloved home. He had wished it was a chariot, but a borrowed mule was all the Lord had provided this day, so a borrowed mule it was and for that he was thankful. He loaded her up with gifts of Raisins, dates, olives and wine as gifts for Miriams family. He set out travelling South towards Jerusalem on the inner road he was aware of the scorching sun that had robbed the roadsides of anything resembling growth, the desert was stifling, so hot it stole the saliva from your mouth it made this part of the journey seem longer than the rest put together. He had made this journey many times for Passover and the festivals, but never did it seem as long as it did today. It was a dangerous road, robbers often waited along the highways, but “here” he thought as he looked a the barren landscape ahead “there is no where for even the devil to hide”
The land took on a kinder nature as he approached the city walls of Jerusalem, the roads became busier and he stopped here the night, visited the Temple that he had crafted so much of the carvings for. This time Joseph sensed a different emotion rising in him, a sense of emptiness that usually the sacredness of the temple filled. “No” he thought “this is not my destination today”. The journey from Jerusalem to Hebron seemed as though he walked on hinds feet, his mule seemed to struggle to keep up with him, within a day he had reached the courtyard of Zechariah and Elizabeth’s home. Zechariah came to greet him. “Ahhh” he bellowed loudly “the groom has arrived” the old priest grabbed him by both arms and shook him in a joyful manner, “come, come” he said “wash and rest and then you can meet my son” The joy so pouring out of the priest that it washed over Joseph and permeated his weariness. “He doesn’t sleep” Zechariah chuckled “so neither do we, ahhh but what a gift, what a gift”
Zechariah stopped short, “but of course” he said “it is not my son you have come to see is it? How foolish of me, you have eyes only for your bride, this will be soon, yes, soon” he said Joseph detected a hesitancy in his voice that concerned him, “She is well?” He asked “Oh yes, yes, very well, blooming, as they say” he fussed around and Joseph wondered where the women could be. “I, urhhh” Zechariah faltered as he began to speak again. “Come, bring your cup, we have some other news to share” The two men walked a short distance from the house and found some dry wiry grass to rest on, taking in a view of the Wadi spring between the trees, they sat for a time in silence, then the old man told Joseph some of the news of Mary. He left him alone to pray and made his way back to the house.
So here he was, betrothed for some months now, incredibly trying to decipher how his beautiful, pure bride to be was now with child. The one who had stirred something so deep within him, the one he had apparently been chosen for. Had she been taken forcibly? How had he so badly failed to protect her, to keep her safe? He clearly wasn’t worthy or capable of such responsibility. He had failed her before they had began to live as husband and wife. It was best for her if he was to quietly divorce her. Best for him, yes, but definitely best for her. He lay on the straw floor of the outbuilding sleep evading him, staring at the stars beyond stars through the gaps in the rattan matting above him. Heart aching, he concluded that he would get the paper written up tomorrow and then leave for Nazareth, alone. “Perhaps if his bri….” He stopped the thought “Miriam, if Miriam stayed here in Hebron, she will be protected from the consequences”
That was the night the angel visited. Under a million stars, Joseph learnt his part In the story of all Gods people.
Joseph rose as soon as the first light appeared on the horizon, he could hear the cries of the hungry baby John fusing with the first of the birdsong, this couldn’t wait for protocol, he hastened over to find Miriam in the house. Overcome with remorse, joy, fear and excitement at his first glimpse of her, the sun just rising behind her, framing her outline like a halo. She turned and saw him, illuminated from the sun behind her except for the shadow her own body cast upon him, she fell to her knees for his blessing upon her, “No” he groaned “No, it is I that …..” “Please” she whispered, “please Joseph” He placed his hands on her head, but could not voice the words that he felt so wholly unworthy to profess. He cupped her perfect face in his hands, helping her to her feet, then fell to his knees before her, before the child within her. Still silenced, there were no words possible, only emotion, he cried hard, unashamed of the tears. Mary took his hands and drew him back to his feet. “It’s ok” she sang, her own face streamed with tears, overcome with the beauty of this man and of the God who had provided for her protection. She placed his servant hands upon her still very flat belly in which his awaited saviour lay…..