Joseph's Journal

10 Years Ago, I wrote this short story.  I thought it appropriate to post for this Season.  I hope you enjoy my Seasonal Gift to you my friends and readers.  I tried to give "The Greastest Story Ever Told" a human side.

Joseph’s Journal

By Georgann Phillips Schultz

Mary, my betrothed, came to me today. She told me she is with child. “This can’t be.” I screamed at her. “Yes, it is true.” Mary said. She looked calm for someone telling her future husband she carried another man’s seed. I am ashamed of myself. I threatened her with stoning for what she has done. “Death is the penalty for adultery.” Empty threats, I know. But she argued, “It is common for an espoused bride to be with child. No one will question the birth.” I couldn’t believe my ears. She tried to convince me she remained a virgin and that she carried the Son of God in her womb. “Blasphemous! Blasphemous!” That is what I said. “Why should I be father to a bastard? Why should I raise the offspring of a harlot as my own?” Her dark eyes flashed with anger when I told her to go home to her parents and await my decision. Her reply cleaved my heart: “Present me before the priests. Try me by the waters of jealousy. Stone me if you will, but my innocent blood shall be on your hands.” She lifted her chin and walked out with such profound dignity. Why did my beautiful and fiery Mary tell me this? She could have kept her indiscretion to herself. Why did she lie to cover her mistake? My beloved Mary, what shall I do? If I speak up, she may be put away in shame and dishonor. I would carry the guilt of that for all my days. I could send her away to relatives. A curse upon my head for choosing such a young and beautiful wife. A maid of fifteen could never be faithful to an older man. What was I thinking? What shall I do? Oh, God of Abraham, hear my plea. Help this poor servant understand your will.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a disturbing dream. A voice spoke to me. Yes, yes, it must have been a message from God. The voice said, “Fear not to take Mary as your wife, she has conceived of the Holy Ghost. She carries the Son of God in her womb. You shall call him Jesus” I must believe this virgin birth. I love Mary and will take her to wife without haste. She is a good woman. But the responsibility of this worries me. Why was I, a humble carpenter chosen for this honor among all men: to be the guardian of the Son of God on earth? Oh, God of Abraham, give me the strength of character to live up to this task set before me. Guide me in all I do.

A curse upon Herod and his insecurities; he commands we travel to the home of our fathers so we may be counted. A census he calls it. More taxation to fill the Roman coffers! That is what I call it. Mary is heavy with child. She is near her time of confinement. There is much to do. I must finish carving the cradle. I have many orders to be finished. Mary is so calm; I must take lesson from her. Why, even now, she prepares for the arduous journey. She never complains. Mary is such a good and dutiful wife. She brings honor to my family. I can’t believe I actually thought of having her stoned. I shudder to think of the night of her revealment to me.

I can’t believe our good fortune. I found a mild mannered donkey to carry Mary to Bethlehem, the City of David. It is many days journey from Nazareth. It will be hard on Mary, but we do not have a choice. As my wife, she must accompany me to the home of my ancestors. And of all times, when Mary is about to give birth. Again, a curse upon Herod and Roman tyranny! Oh, God of Abraham, show me the reason for this madness.

As I sanded the cradle I thought about the prophecies. They say, “born in the City of David” Bethlehem is the city of David. David was the fourteenth generation begat from Abraham. I am the fourteenth generation begat from David. Ah, you are a great and wondrous God. You knew I would not risk Mary’s safety and the safety of your son with a journey. You had to move this mountain into doing your will! Even Roman rulers unknowingly bow to your will so who am I, but your humble servant. We shall leave on the morrow.

In the distance I can see the campfires of the shepherds in the fields. The soft lowing of the sheep is like a lullaby to my soul. Poor Mary. I know the pains are coming upon her. She says it is not quite her time, but soon. We should be in Bethlehem in the morning. She is sleeping now. How lovely she looks in the firelight. I’ve never seen her more beautiful. Her shining raven hair, her pink cheeks, her lips full and waiting to be kissed. Motherhood suit’s her. We shall have many children. I know that. Praise to my God for delivering such a wonderful woman to me.

It is almost nightfall. We were slowed today by Mary’s pains. She tries to muffle her quiet moans. She says, “Don’t worry Joseph, I am fine.” I fear she is ever nearer to her time. We are ready to enter the gates of Bethlehem, but once again Mary needs rest. She sleeps for the moment. We found a beautiful olive tree for her to rest under. It is near a well. We had a cool drink of water to refresh us. Nearby is a water trough for our faithful donkey. I filled the extra water skins that Mary packed, for I fear the baby will come tonight, and we must have extra water. I hope there is room for us in Bethlehem. So many people entered the gates while we rested here. I despair there will be no lodging for us tonight. And tonight of all nights, we need a roof over our heads. Strange, there is a star in the sky tonight. A star I don’t remember ever seeing before. It is so bright it appears to be hung right over Bethlehem. What could this mean? Mary has awakened. I pray we find shelter.

We knocked on every inn door in Bethlehem. Always the same reply: No room, No room at the inn. With the census, every room has been filled with travelers. Families sleep in the streets. It was difficult guiding the donkey and Mary through the throngs. The frustration of waiting in line at each door, only to be met with a No! Even my pleas for mercy on Mary’s behalf fell on deaf ears. I couldn’t even purchase a room. The one room I managed to find was beyond what our money pouch offered. I wanted to strike out, to punch the doors rather than knock. Greed, the greed of our people, I never thought I would see this in my lifetime. What a shame. I uttered a quiet prayer of hope, as I knocked on the last door. Again, “No room”. The innkeeper’s wife heard Mary’s quiet moans. She suggested to her husband that we could stay in the stable at the back of the inn. She said it had just been cleaned out that very day. One of the inn’s guests claimed his money pouch disappeared. Unable to pay for his lodging he cleaned the stalls for payment. My heart leapt for joy. So here I sit, in a warm stable with clean wood floors and fresh straw. The soft sounds of life are all around me. My wife is resting, comfortable on a mattress of hay and blankets. The innkeeper’s wife sent us food and drink. She told us to come for her when it is Mary’s time. This quiet pause in this busy day is a relief. I think the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for the miracle of this birth.