May I share a true story with you about St. Joseph? My story begins in the family home of our foundress, Mother Luisita. To begin with, it’s probably best to give Mother Luisita’s full religious name – Mother Maria Luisa Josefa of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Before she became a religious sister, everyone called her Luisita and then when she was a religious sister, it was easy to transition into calling her “Mother Luisita.”
Every year, we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day on March 17, commemorating the life of one of Ireland’s most popular saints. Most people have heard of him and many choose to participate in one or more of the Irish traditions that are kept alive from year to year on St. Patrick’s Day. Of course, my parents, both of Irish descent, wove Irish expressions of Catholicism into our Irish-American-Catholic family life.
May I begin with a true story? It all happened in the year 1852. The Loretto Sisters ventured across the country into the wilds of New Mexico, a newly acquired territory of the United States. Among the sisters’ goals was the fulfillment of their dream of building an academy for girls in the territory.
Dear Saint Joseph, it is difficult for me to understand you… your personality, your character, the reason behind your reactions to various things. I’ve read, reread Sacred Scripture, and noticed – I don’t know why – something jumped out at me as I was reading. And then I quietly began to think about you, about Mary, and about the supernatural penetrating the routine daily scenarios of your life.
When all Egypt began to feel the famine, the people cried to Pharaoh for food. Then Pharaoh told all the Egyptians, ‘Go to Joseph and do what he tells you.’” To this man, God gave the power and the means to provide for and save the people. God raised Joseph up through suffering and a deep purification, so that he could be a means of the providential care of our Heavenly Father for the people.
My introduction to the great Saint Joseph came as a young child through my parents. When my brother, Joseph was born, a year before me, my parents purchased a statue of his patron, Saint Joseph, for his room. When I was born the next year, I received a statue of Our Blessed Mother. Both statues were covered with a glass globe and glowed in the dark, giving them an almost celestial radiance.
During this Lent, I have been reflecting on the parable of the Prodigal Son. St. Joseph stands before us as the quiet contrast to the prodigal son. In the Gospel, the younger son’s demand — “Give me my inheritance” — sounds cold, almost blasphemous, as if he wished his father dead.
This Lent is a good time to delve further into the mystery of St. Joseph. It reveals a mystery brimming over with questions. A mystery still awaiting answers. Yes, biblical authors allude to St. Joseph, but they refer to him in a narrative form. We do not have one word written by him, nor any word attributed to him. There is no quote by St. Joseph in the New Testament and that is stunning!