I’ve got a pretty heavy religious background - went to Church 3 times a week for the first almost 12 years of my life, although you might not know it now. Anyway, I got to thinking and just wondered what the first Christmas
was like … from Joseph’s point of view. Please note that this is tongue-in-cheek humor, and is not meant to offend.
"My name is Joseph. The “Mary and Joseph” Joseph. I’m probably not mentioned in the Bible more than a dozen times, and yet I’m well known. I’m the guy in the Nativity scene standing by holding a big stick.
I met this girl named Mary in our village in Nazareth, and we got engaged. I swear, I never touched her and she gets pregnant. Boy, was her father hot! The Bible says I had thoughts about putting her away when I found out. That may be true, but in the Year 1 BC, when a Jew’s daughter is in the family way without the benefit of marriage, you’d best not know her too long, if you know what I mean. Yes I had thoughts about putting her away, but what the Bible doesn’t tell you is I probably had thoughts of RUNNING away. Mary’s parents were plenty hot with me, let me tell you, and I doubt Black & Decker had a carpenter’s nail gun that would have got me out of this situation. So we get married.
Now, let me point out something. Mary was a virgin, with a Capital V. Every other guy I know gets married and finally gets to really know his wife. Every other guy except me, that is. Yeah, sure I got to know Mary. I got to know what she really looked like in the morning. I got to know
firsthand what nine months of PMS was like. There’s a joke that illustrates that PMS existed in the Bible because Mary “rode Joseph’s ass all the way to Bethlehem”. And SHE’s the one with the halo in the manger scenes. Me,
it’s Hands Off until the baby is born. And now I’m the laughingstock of all of Nazareth. Why? Because Everybody Knows! EVERYbody. Check out Matthew 1:24-25. This guy had the audacity to put it in print, for all the world to
see. Joseph Doesn’t Get Any. And Mary gets the halo.
Something else - if you get married to someone who’s been impregnated by The Holy Ghost, part of the Holy Trinity, part of the Godhead - basically God Himself - what do you think that does to my self esteem as a man? Luke 1:49
quotes Mary as saying he (God) “…hath done to me great things”. I had no experience with s-e-x, so don’t you think I was worrying about how I would compare in Mary’s mind? I mean, the Bible is full of illustrations and references to God’s perfection. I saw a tee-shirt on a kid once that said
“God don’t make no junk”. So He’s perfect and I’m inexperienced. That’s enough to scare the hair out of a donkey.
So anyway the government says we all have to travel to our hometown to pay a tax. A bill. Apparently you now have a wonderful system called the United States Postal Service, and you gripe decade after decade about filling out a
little census form. Not so in my case. I got my espoused wife, being great with child, and off we went. And went. And went. Anyone know how far Nazareth is from Bethlehem? Ever walked it? According to the maps that Gideon and King James put in the back of your Bibles, it’s roughly 60 miles
or so, in a straight line. Probably farther given the routes we had to take around mountains, etc. This journey probably lasted about a week or so, walking. In the heat. In the sand. Through the rocks. Add to the mix two
people who are basically on the way to pay taxes - a very pregnant wife and a guy who hasn’t had any - and you’re talking a really bad trip. It makes your summer station wagon nightmares seem like a piece of cake, huh? Everyone assumes there was a donkey involved, and for your pretty little stories let’s assume that was the case. But according to your little stories, I still got stuck walking it.
Then we get to Bethlehem, where I was from. Please don’t ask me why I lived in Nazareth - I really don’t think it matters why I moved, although you can certainly see why I didn’t commute. Anyway, there must be a stick-holding
convention going on or something, because we go to the Bethlehem inns, and they are full after full after full. No Room At The Inn. Sorry, our guests should be checking out next week. Hey, buddy, can you see I’m not here next
week, I’m here now? So someone has pity on me (they must have already read Matthew or something) and lets us stay in their stable. Know what else gets to stay in a stable? Animals. Big sweaty noisy smelly ones. And the innkeeper must have been too busy cleaning rooms to clean this stable, because there are piles of you-know-what everywhere.
But since this stable is just a step above sleeping in the street, we stay.
Now Mary must really be comfortable here, because she picks NOW to have the kid. Oh goody, and I get to help. What the heck are swaddling clothes away? How am I supposed to know where she packed them?
Now, these wise men come to see the wife and kid, because there’s this Star that seems to do all but state in neon lights “BABY HERE”, and they bring gold, frankincense and myrrh, which you never hear about again. I’m not bitter or anything, because according to your Nativity Scenes, I have this big stick that I get to hold.
We had some other visitors while we were in this stable. One night Mary and I were sitting around, and we heard this great noise from the fields, and shortly afterwards, these shepherds came to visit. Know what a shepherd’s job is? To watch sheep. And I’ll just bet your little Nativity
sets don’t show the herds that these guys shepped into Bethlehem when they came “with great haste” to see our new baby.
Now how’s this “tender and mild” baby trying to “sleep in heavenly peace” with lowing cattle, noisy sheep, and this little brat banging on his drum (rump-a-pum-pum), not to mention nobody’s had the time to walk any of these
critters.
All I have to say is that miracles do indeed occur during Christmas!