**sermon art: Joseph by Laura James (2000)

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on December 21, 2025

[sermon begins after three short Bible readings – hang in there]

Matthew 1:18-25 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be pregnant from the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹ Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to divorce her quietly. ²⁰ But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹ She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” ²² All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
²³ “Look, the virgin shall become pregnant and give birth to a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.” ²⁴ When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife ²⁵ but had no marital relations with her until she had given birth to a son, and he named him Jesus.

Isaiah 7:10-16  The Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, ¹¹ “Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” ¹² But Ahaz said, “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.” ¹³ Then Isaiah said, “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals that you weary my God also? ¹⁴ Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel. ¹⁵ He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. ¹⁶ For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.”

Romans 1:1-7 Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, ² which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, ³ the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh ⁴ and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, ⁵ through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the gentiles for the sake of his name, ⁶ including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,
⁷ To all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints:
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

[sermon begins]

 

O come, o come, Emmanuel.   We sang from longing hearts of an impossible hope as we gathered for worship today. We sang the seven names of the One for whom we wait during Advent. All seven come from the first several chapters of the Bible’s book of Isaiah and are traditionally sung in the last seven days of Advent—one per day. The prophet Isaiah lived about 700 years before Jesus at a time when the Assyrians were gobbling up territories for their empire and had begun a slow march towards Judah and Jerusalem. The poignant poetry of the hymn ties us to these ancient Jewish roots of impossible hope in the face of overwhelming odds.[1] The impossible hope of ancient people is invoked in Paul’s letter to the Roman church and the reading from Matthew’s gospel.

Paul greets the Roman church with the words of the prophet Isaiah who referred to servants of God’s household bringing the good news of God’s restoration.[2] As God’s servant, Paul expands the ancient impossible hope of the Jews to include everyone else, a.k.a. the gentiles. Us. In Advent, we remember that the birth of Jesus is not the beginning a story but the continuation of an ancient one birthed by Sarah and Abraham, freed by Moses, and led by negligent kings challenged by pesky prophets like Isaiah.

Matthew opens his gospel with a genealogy of Jesus right up through Joseph. Then, there’s a BIG wrinkle. Mary is pregnant with a growing, impossible hope. Over time, we’ve learned to tell this complicated story in a simple way. So simple that even a child can tell it. Last week our young friends here at Augustana put on costumes, learned their timing, and preached the story of Jesus through fun and funny lines. Their telling of this good news was a mash-up from the gospels of Luke and Matthew and called, “The Newest Angel,” including Joseph’s surprise at Mary’s pregnancy and how he planned to unburden himself from it.

The gospel writer gives the summary:

“Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.”

That’s it. Nothing flashy. But there is someone who gets a newsflash. Joseph. His betrothed, Mary, is pregnant and he is not the father. His hopes crushed. Confronted with the news, his initial plan is legal. Dismiss Mary in divorce. Send her on her way quietly, saving her from public disgrace but shattering her private hopes. Joseph justifies his position. Not only in his own mind but in the eyes of the law. No harm, no foul. He is good to go. Legal. Justified. Resolved.

“But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream.”[3]

The angel, the Lord’s messenger, thwarts Joseph’s justified resolve and instills hope once more. It’s rough when a good resolve swirls down the drain. Resolve feels good. It feels right and powerful, knowing what to do. Powerlessness? Not so much. Here’s a clue to part of the good news today. If there’s room for Joseph in the nativity story, then there is room for me, and there is room for you.[4]

Our personal stories are stories within stories. Many of us have stories that sound either too good to be true or too mind-bending to be believed. If we were sitting in a small space with just a few of us and enough time, we’d hear surprising stories that connect us in their depth and in their truth. Stories that create who we are and how we move through the world but sometimes surprise even ourselves the telling. How many of us get used to telling our strange tales of impossible hope that have become normal in our own lives but surprise other people. Jesus’ birth story is along this line for Christians. We tell a strange tale, my friends. We celebrate it in sacred scripture. We sing about it. We display nativities representing Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. But it’s a strange one.

The good news is that there’s room for us in the Nativity story because Joseph’s first instinct was to resolve a problem on his own. But then he is invited into grace. The angel tells Joseph to take Mary as his wife and to name the baby conceived by the Holy Spirit, “Jesus.” The angel’s annunciation in Matthew’s gospel is to Joseph and not to Mary.[5] The angel tells an unexpected, mysterious story. A story that doesn’t amount to anything he can share with friends as justification for staying with Mary, especially considering the vague paternity. And, still, he obeys the angel and extends grace to Mary.

Joseph obeys and offers Mary grace without any knowledge of what this means. Just around the corner, what he can’t see is the visit from the magi from the east. Strange people from a faraway place who come to visit Jesus with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.[6] He can’t see the magi’s decision to thwart King Herod.[7] He can’t see King Herod’s edict to slaughter all infants and toddlers less than two years old because they may or may not be the rumored Messiah.[8] He can’t see his and Mary’s escape and refuge in Egypt.[9] There’s so much that Joseph can’t see when he agrees to take Mary as his wife and name the baby Jesus.

James Harnish, a long-time Christian pastor, recalls a story from when he was in college. He went to see a professor with a very intelligent friend who had a lot of questions about his faith and was frustrated by the simplistic answers people gave him. His friend asked the professor, “How can I [follow] Christ when I don’t know all that it will mean?” The professor answered, “None of us knows all that it’s going to mean, but we know enough [to follow Christ] and we spend the rest of our lives finding out what it means.”[10]

Joseph is obedient without an “i” dotted or “t” crossed. Some of us see ourselves in Joseph because, like him, our resolve to do what we want can be thwarted by grace. We do not save ourselves from ourselves. The name “Jesus” means “God saves” or “God is salvation.”[11] He will be born and named Jesus “for he will save his people from their sins.” Week-after-week we scratch the surface of what this means for us. Some of us wonder about intellectual problems raised by scripture that don’t jive with our experience or knowledge. Some of us struggle with the mystery and want it solved so that then we can have faith. Some of us are drawn to action on behalf of people who need help but don’t know where to start or how to keep going. Some of us long for an answer to suffering. For all of us in those moments, Joseph is our guy.

In light of Joseph’s lack of information, his obedience to the angel’s wild request is shocking, confusing, and disturbing.[12] If we let it, our familiarity with Jesus’ birth story means that our quiet, matter-of-fact way of telling it can oversimplify what God is doing all around us. God’s audacity in slipping into powerless, vulnerable skin is echoed by Joseph’s powerless vulnerability as well as our own. Like Joseph, we spend the rest of our lives figuring out what it means to follow Jesus. Like Joseph, we watch, wait, and wonder as Emmanuel, God with us, shows up. Our familiarity can oversimplify our Advent waiting, too. In Advent, we remember that Jesus’ birth is the continuation of an ancient story. Jesus Christ has come.[13] Also, in Advent we know that his birth isn’t the end of the story.[14] Jesus Christ will come.[15] Advent is a pregnant pause as we look ahead with impossible hope for God’s renewal, restoration, and peace by the grace of God.[16]

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[1] Joel B. Green, Senior Professor of New Testament Interpretation, Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, CA. Commentary on Romans 1:1-7 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary for December 21, 2025.

[2] Isaiah 40:9, 52:7

[3] Matthew 1:20

[4] James Harnish. When God Comes Down. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2012), 20.

[5] Eugene Park, Professor of New Testament San Francisco Theological Seminary of the University of Redlands San Anselmo, CA. Commentary on Matthew 1:18-25 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary for December 21, 2025.

[6] Matthew 2:1-11

[7] Matthew 1:8 and 12

[8] Matthew 2:16-18

[9] Matthew 2:13-15

[10] Harnish, 23.

[11] Park, ibid.

[12] Harnish, 19.

[13] Fleming Rutledge. Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Co, 2018), 266.

[14] Green, ibid.

[15] Rutledge, ibid.

[16] Ibid.

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