Mary to Roman brutality as a plausible explanation for her pregnancy and to deny the Christian belief in the virgin birth. It would have been socially acceptable for Joseph to reject her as a future bride. He considered breaking off the engagement publicly; since he was a “righteous” man, pious and considerate, he did not want to expose her to the serious consequences of public shame. Joseph therefore made the decision to call off the wedding and end their relationship privately. If her pregnancy became known, a traditional community would forever stigmatize her. Reacting perhaps naturally and no doubt feeling betrayed and shocked, Joseph resolved to break off their engagement. The social shame ←46 | 47→would be too much to bear, a future with her as his wife (with a child not even his own) unthinkable. He no doubt talked to his father, who would have arranged the marriage in the first place. The angel, appearing to him prior to carrying out his intentions, has extraordinary news for Joseph; first, the son Mary will bear has been conceived by the Holy Spirit and “you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (1:21) and second, how all the events about to unfold are in relation to announcements made by the prophets and initiated by God. How Joseph could have understood the meaning of “Holy Spirit” (literally, a holy or sacred breath – that which made Adam a “living soul”) is difficult to fathom; the promise of his son being a “savior” may have been equally puzzling, especially for someone who was a skilled trade-worker without much of a formal education, even if he had traditional familiarity with the Hebrew bible. Matthew’s narrative forces us to presuppose Joseph being able to understand the message from an angel – an emissary from God who is supposed to make all such communication understandable. One cannot easily assume Joseph’s knowledge of a theological vocabulary; besides, that he had a dream of an angel also meant he merely reflected a common superstition in antiquity – that dreams were meaningful and related to God, portents, or the dead. In any case, Joseph accepted the dream as truthful. He had enough belief in the significance of dreams to change his mind, keep her pregnancy secret, and get married to Mary after all.
Now that Matthew has outlined the detailed genealogy of Jesus’ family as it relates, chronologically, to the patriarch Abraham and to King David, he finalizes the introduction of the virgin birth with one final claim: “All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet,” (Matt. 1:22) repeating himself so there can be no misunderstanding on the part of the reader; more particularly, the announcement by Isaiah, now repeated by the gospel writer, testifies that a virgin will give birth to a son. The two gospel writers who include the virgin birth do so under an enormous strain, a pervasive dilemma they everywhere reveal if unable to adequately solve: to make Jesus born from a virgin, Matthew ultimately cannot (despite his attempt) insert him back into a three-part history, patriarchal, monarchical, and prophetic. The two gospel writers of the virgin birth portray his unprecedented individuality while simultaneously adopting him back into a genealogy and a history that can neither engender him nor limits his possibilities. The tremendous proclamation “before Abraham was, I am,” (John 8:58) allows us to reflect on Jesus’ consciousness and how he conceives his meaning – one he knows to be elusive and enigmatic for his disciples and more so for the writers who will assume the responsibility of committing him to a written logos. Once the virgin birth is announced and Jesus is claimed for a three-part history, Matthew then moves to an episode, recounted ←47 | 48→by him alone, that begins a first disassociation between Jesus and a monarch. It is above all the unique events in the gospels that deserve the most attention; in this case, an inadvertent consequence of his birth will lead to an event of grief and mourning and become a permanent reminder for Jesus of a history (indeed, two historical moments) inseparable in his life. In Matthew, the apparent centrality of the virgin birth is only one beginning. When he is old enough, and most probably prior to his entrance into the temple of Jerusalem as a twelve-year-old, Jesus already knows himself to be an unprecedented human being who will simultaneously be the pre-creation logos and therefore capable of returning to the past – and by repeating a moment (in Egypt) recollecting it in order to transform it for the future.
When Jesus is born in Bethlehem, the Davidic city, Matthew uniquely gives us a report on the “wise men (magoi) from the East came to Jerusalem,” (Matt. 2:1) though we soon learn they are neither “wise,” nor, as legend has it, kings. For some reason only known to them, the magoi have traveled from somewhere in the east, possibly Babylon, to Jerusalem, following a star that has led them to the city, so as to find someone who has recently been “born King of the Jews” (Matt. 2:2) and for the purpose of “worshipping” him. The “wise men” who come from another country are learned men, with knowledge of astrology, divination, and the interpretation of dreams. One celestial phenomenon – be it star, comet, remnant of a nova – gave them an unmistakable impression: the imminent birth of a king, and to be precise, the “King of the Jews.” How any of these magoi came to the conclusion that Jesus was the “king of the Jews” defies explanation. They were also astrologers and therefore expected to predict the future as well as at least partly famous for their supposed ability to interpret dreams, though they were also known to be impostors and fakes, famous more for their place in a royal court as entertainers and “magicians.” Tricks and sleight-of-hand illusions were performed by people trained in the magic arts. When their search for a royal individual becomes public and known to Herod (who along with the entire city is, for some unknown reason, “troubled”) he summons the chief priests and the scribes and asks them “where the Messiah was to be born,” (Matt. 2:4) a title Herod could not have used since, presumably, he is less interested in messianic hopes and aspirations than in the real possibility of a king usurping his rule. For all his power, Herod was nothing more than a client-king, useful and convenient for the Romans who needed someone to maintain order. Following the eastern custom of acknowledging a king and making obeisance to him, the magoi not only begin the first of many misinterpretations of Jesus, in identity and purpose, they cause (if unintentionally) a tragedy only Jesus will understand in meaning and scope.
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When Herod the king hears about the birth of someone who could, in principle, threaten his rule, undermine his power, and cause his death either inadvertently or wilfully, he immediately takes action with a response consistent with the paranoia and brutality endemic to the nature of monarchical rule. Herod is an embarrassment; and so typical of the absolute arrogance most especially of kings who are born privileged and then given a world-historical position for no other reason than they were royal by birth, thereby precluding any possibility they could ever become (that is, make themselves) something other than an inheritance. Herod’s panicked response to the announcement that “the King of the Jews” was to be born, seems now to be a double misinterpretation: one, on the part of the long-suffering Jews who, occupied and made destitute by the Romans, could envision being saved militarily by a king; two, anticipated as a possible usurper to a throne, Jesus was feared by a Herod who was compromised by being nothing more than a client of the Romans and, therefore, easily dismissed from power, exiled or killed if it served their purpose. Instead of fearing his true threats, the Romans and, of course, himself, Herod fell prey to the paranoid imagination of a king whose power is ephemeral and will not possibly last since it is founded on nothing more than a bureaucratic arrangement of society at a particular historical time.
Herod then summons the magoi and sends them to find the child, with the pretext of also worshipping him; he has a plan in mind, and he easily manipulates the eager foreigners to find the new-born baby. They do eventually locate him, with the help of a guiding star and present him with the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Their presence, at this point, is no longer necessary. “The magi have not fully understood the significance of the child to whom they are paying homage.”95 They have, perhaps, understood nothing at all and have been used by Matthew as convenient proxies who serve a narrative purpose. Before returning to Herod to inform him of the birth of the child – they are, then, far from wise and show themselves to have been duped – they are warned not to visit Herod again and instead return home by a different route. They have served their purpose, never to be heard from again except in later legends, complete with exotic names invented to give them unwarranted individuality.
Joseph, also and again in
