Lent for Extroverts 30: Fathering against the odds

Georges de la Tour, Joseph The Carpenter

These are interesting times for the family as we know it. Even the word carries political freight; John Major's Tory Government famously championed 'family values' until it was discovered the Prime Minister was having an affair with Edwina Currie.

The 21st century family is changing; it may well these days contain two dads; no dad; a dad who lives somewhere else or a dad who's not biologically connected to the children he is bringing up.

The church today remembers St. Joseph, 'father' (or so it was thought) of Jesus of Nazareth. I think of him as mainly concerned with the birth and infancy of Jesus. He must have given him a good start, though we know hardly anything about him save his decency towards Mary, his ability to interpret angelic dreams and his trade as an artisan or carpenter.

The bible talks of Jesus' siblings and I see no reason to doubt that Joseph went on to father his own children with Mary (though this is hotly contested by the Roman Catholic doctrine of  Mary's perpetual virginity). But initially and crucially for the plan of God, it was Jesus for whom he faithfully cared in the first instance. And it would seem, in Catholicism at least, that Mary got all the credit.

It must have been difficult for Joseph to bring up a child to whom he was not biologically related, who spoke of another 'Father' - the one in heaven - in such warm terms. Fostering, adopting and being a stepfather are all hard callings reserved for those with perseverance, who are willing to stick at it for the long term, despite the absence of those fatherly feelings of 'ahh.....chip off the old block'.

With every further media exposure of male abusers of children we're in danger of losing the idea that a man can father and love children not strictly his own. Mr Tom,  played beautifully by John Thaw in the BBC adaptation of Michelle Magorian's Goodnight Mr Tom, is one positive literary example to balance our jaundiced fears of men and small children being a combination to be avoided at all costs.

Happy St. Joseph's day.

Candlemas cats

I was having kittens today. 

To be accurate, I got kittens today. On Candlemas. Candlemas cats. Of course they're still very small at the moment. We've been wanting to look after some very small helpless little things for some time. Since we went on holiday without our (now very grown up) eldest son and stayed with some friends who had a cat. It may have been the combination of being exposed to a cat whilst missing a grown up child. The onset of 'empty nest syndrome' can do strange things to you.

Candlemas would appear to be an ancient custom dating back to the 5th Century Church, whereby candles were blessed at the midway point between Christmas and Easter - a kind of church half term celebration that winter is half way through. A last look back at Christmas before we look towards Lent. The reading is from Luke 2:22-40 where Mary and Joseph bring their first born son and present him in the Temple according to Jewish custom, along with a sacrifice of two pigeons - a poor person's offering.

Of course every parent thinks their child is a little bit more special than the rest, but Mary and Joseph must have had an inkling that in their case it could be really true. Simeon and Anna, the two elderly named believers they met in the Temple that day knew it to be true. They were watching and waiting for the Lord's Messiah. Whilst others looked for a powerful deliverer they were attuned to the still small voice. They both recognised it was this baby who would grow up to 'cause the rising and falling of many in Israel' and a sword would pierce Mary's heart because of his calling.

Because you can't hold onto them for ever. It is always hard to let go, let them grow up. Children don't stay children for ever. And kittens don't stay kittens for ever.

23. Anna - age no barrier

What do we know of Anna, the first of our fabulous females of the New Testament? 

She was a prophetess and lived in the Temple; she 'worshipped night and day, fasting and praying' (Luke 2: 36-8). A role model for Lent then.

The translation of her marital history is unclear - she had either been married for only seven years and was now an 84 year old widow, or was married for seven years and had now been a widow for a further 84 (which would make her over 100...?) Either way, she was more or less now married to God Almighty.

With constant access to the divine, she has no problem recognising Messiah in the baby, Jesus, as his parents bring him to be presented in the Temple, according to Jewish custom.: 'She gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem' (Luke 2: 38).

No doubt to everyone else bustling around the Temple courts that day, pigeons squawking, clink of money changing hands, Mary's was just another baby from a poor-ish home, being brought for Jewish dedication, along with all the hopes and fears new parents always carry.

But not to Anna and her male counterpart, Simeon. They were alive to the divine moment, proving that old age is no bar to spiritual discernment and fervent proclamation. In a youth obsessed society, which is simultaneously ageing more than ever before, we could do with more Annas.

5. Rachel - the dubious blessing of motherhood.

'Lord help the Mister, who comes between me and my sister, and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man', as the song goes...


It's a mixed up tale of love, deceit, mistaken identity, jealousy, infertility and a lot of half brothers. Rachel is loved by Jacob but in the near Eastern manner of veils and darkened bridal tents, Jacob is tricked into marrying/sleeping with her eldest sister, Leah, first. (N.B. best to make good eye contact on your wedding night...)


But Jacob is not to be put off that easily. In the manner of swooning lovers he has already toiled seven years in the fields for her and after a week of Leah he marries Rachel as well, thus setting up a compromised marital scenario of sisterly/maidservantly jealousy and strife extending way into the future as eventually four different women compete to bring children into the same family.


Rachel means 'ewe', a mother sheep, but motherhood is a long time coming. Infertility can make you desperate - she cries to Jacob, 'give me children or I'll die.' (Genesis 30:1) which turns out to be sadly prophetic. Her prayer for a baby must have been a persevering one: 'Then God remembered Rachel; he listened to her and opened her womb' (Gen. 30:22). After the joy of Joseph (Jacob's favourite) she dies giving birth to Benjamin, the youngest. 


From extremely unlikely beginnings, despite human frailty and a family tree to baffle even 'Who do you think you are?', Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat is now an assured future West End reality.


Which just goes to show that the course of true love (and motherhood) never did run smooth.