Joseph, by the work of your hands and
the sweat of your brow,
you supported Jesus and Mary,
and had the Son of God as your fellow worker.
Teach me to work as you did,
with patience and perseverance, for God and
for those whom God has given me to support.
Teach me to see in my fellow workers
the Christ who desires to be in them,
that I may always be charitable and forbearing
towards all.
Grant me to look upon work
with the eyes of faith,
so that I shall recognize in it
my share in God’s own creative activity
and in Christ’s work of our redemption,
and so take pride in it.
When it is pleasant and productive,
remind me to give thanks to God for it.
And when it is burdensome,
teach me to offer it to God,
in reparation for my sins
and the sins of the world.
I was thinking about St. Joseph today. He is just about the patron saint of humility. Think about it. He marries this chick who is supposed to be a virgin and he is told that she is bearing God's child. He doesn't do what they did in those days and renounce her. He marries her and takes the child as his own. He protects them and nurtures them and makes a home for them. A woman and somebody Else's child. Ok it was God's Son but you know what I mean.
I think the most admirable part of St. Joseph's story is that every day he went to work. He did his carpentry and whatever and took care of his family. He was a humble man. He was a Saint. We can take a lesson from him.
9 comments:
What did he have to go on for evidence?
A dream
while the alternate reality
within his wife-to-be
continued to grow.
One kind of dream
released and traded in
to honor another.
Sinner though I am, I try my best to always be humble before God.
Before Man, humility is overrated.
And neither am I humble before grammarians who proscribe against split infinitives.
My Uncle Joe was a window washer. A decent guy but he was so overworked that at every family get together he was the first to pass out after the meal in the nearest armchair he could find. Being a kid I wondered why Uncle Joe was always out like a light. I had no concept of such a state of exhaustion. Now I do. But it's too late. Uncle Joe's gone.
Found this in a Christmas anthology this weekend, while sorting and packing up boxes of books. Old fashioned but good, it describes the role Joseph played.
My own dad loved poems that rhymed and made sense to him. The hokier the better. I wonder now if poetry provided him with a safe place to feel and admit to emotion.
Who has not carolled Mary,
And who her praise would dim?
But what of humble Joseph:
Is there no song for him?
If Joseph hadn't driven
Straight nails through honest wood;
If Joseph hadn't cherished
His Mary as he should;
If Joseph hadn't proved him
A sire both kind and wise;
Would he have drawn with favour
The Child's all-probing eyes?
Would Christ have prayed "Our Father",
Or cried that name in death,
Unless he had first honoured
Joseph of Nazareth?
Gilbert Thomas
Joseph's Song
My parents taught us kids to honor work. They worked hard but also honored others who work hard. We honor people w/ actions. Always smiling and thanking the kid who bags your groceries. Being kind and patient to a retail clerk, waitress, etc. who is obviously new and struggling. Leaving a tip for the housekeeper when you leave a hotel room. My parents were blue collar. I worked in a white collar world but was always proud of my blue collar heritage and work ethic. That is a good kind of pride, but always remembering pride is a double edged sword.
I'm not a religious man, but God bless those who have faith and morals.
I pinched a cow sized loaf today.
tits.
Post a Comment