Matthew’s Gospel places before us a quiet but revolutionary figure: Joseph,
called a just man. At first glance, his justice feels puzzling. Joseph knows
the Law. As a faithful Jewish man, he understands clearly what the Law
prescribes for a woman found to be with child outside of marriage. Yet when
faced with Mary’s mysterious pregnancy, he chooses a path that steps beyond
legal righteousness. Instead of exposing her, he resolves to protect her
dignity. How, then, can a lawbreaker be called just? Joseph’s justice is rooted
in deep communion. His righteousness flows from a heart attuned to God.
Justice, for him, is not about enforcing rules but about safeguarding
relationship. He allows love to interpret the Law, not the other way around.
As Richard Rohr reminds us, “The opposite of faith is not doubt; it
is certainty.”
Joseph does not cling to certainty. He does not resolve the mystery too
quickly. Instead, he remains open- open enough for God to enter. Betrothal in
Jewish culture was not casual-it was already covenant. Joseph is already Mary’s
husband in all but shared life. Yet what truly defines his bond with her is his
union with God. Joseph listens inwardly. He discerns. He trusts a dream-an
interior movement of the Spirit-over public opinion and legal certainty. His
obedience is contemplative. He responds to the subtle whisper within, and that
response draws him into deeper union with Christ.
Joseph’s obedience, then, is an interior response. He walks a path where
contradictions remain unresolved, where fear and trust coexist, where certainty
gives way to surrender. This is a nondual faith- one that allows God alone to
hold together what the human mind cannot reconcile. And in that allowing,
Joseph’s life opens into greater union with Christ.
And perhaps this is the heart of the Gospel:
the only thing that separates us from God is the thought that we are separate
from God. God draws near by becoming one with us, entering our inner dialogue
of accusation and defence. God takes our side, turning mistakes into grace.
When we are tempted toward shame or self-rejection, God does not add another
voice of condemnation. God remains present. On the inner journey, we meet a God
who interacts with our deepest selves-a God who grows the person, allows the
struggle, forgives the misstep. It is this ongoing give-and-take that makes God
real, not as an idea, but as a Lover. Like Joseph, we are invited to trust that
presence and to let our lives be shaped from within by the God who is already
with us.
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