Advent Reflection: On the Hidden Life of Christ

Part 2 in my series on the Christian meaning of suffering and the Cross.

While I have not typically posted on religious topics here, I was edified by the positive response to my previous post on the Christian meaning of suffering and the Cross. I am grateful for your encouraging feedback, which convinced me to continue posting on this theme from time to time. As we prepare for Christ’s coming at Christmas, Advent is a suitable time to reflect on Jesus’ hidden life prior to his public ministry.

All roads lead to Nazareth: that is where Jesus spent most of His earthly life, hidden away in obscurity. Christians must look there to enter deeply into His life and to understand Mary and Joseph, and the models they provide for our lives. St. Josemaria Escriva and other saints often recommended that we meditate on the hidden life of the Holy Family in Nazareth—the thirty years Jesus spent in obscurity prior to starting his public ministry. This hidden life constituted the majority of His time on earth. (His public ministry only lasted three years by comparison.)

We might mistakenly believe those hidden years were unimportant, because the Gospel’s say almost nothing about them. We might assume that Jesus’ “real” work was His later preaching, teaching, and miracles—that prior to his public ministry He was merely “biding his time.” But this would be mistaken: the silence of the Gospels in this regard is an eloquent silence; it actually speaks volumes. The Son of God did not waste time; every one of his actions on earth had redemptive value. We can be encouraged by the fact that His ordinary life was, in many respects, much like our ordinary lives: the Gospels record little precisely because there was nothing extraordinary to report. And yet, each of Christ’s actions on earth, from the simplest to the most sublime, were offered to God his Father for our salvation. The way of the Cross began at his conception.

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With a few details from the Gospels, some knowledge of history, and clues from the writings of Christian mystics, we can imagine how God, who became man, would have lived. Perhaps at his birth there was an older woman from Bethlehem who served as the local midwife; maybe she was assisted by her young daughter of 8 or 9-years-old, who helped during the birth of Jesus. These two would have had no idea that they helped bring Christ into the world. Likewise, the priest in the Temple who circumcised Jesus eight days later would not have known this baby was the Son of God. But by doing their duty they served him and his family with kindness and care.

We can picture little details of their domestic life in Nazareth. We can imagine the cradle that St. Joseph lovingly made for the infant Jesus to sleep in. Perhaps Mary tended a small garden of vegetables that the little boy, Jesus, helped her to cultivate. They woke up very early and ate a simple meal, mostly of whatever remained from their meal the night before, and then began the obligations of the day. The young boy, Jesus, would help His Mother to carry water from the well. He would help gather the wood that Joseph used as a carpenter. Joseph would have taught Jesus how to identify the right trees and cut the branches to bring to him. They probably kept a small number of animals that Jesus learned to tend.

Hot water would have been hard to come by as it was costly and time-consuming to heat. Jesus and Joseph would have taken cold baths outside, while the limited supply of warmer water would have been reserved for Mary to bathe with in the privacy of the house. Like most people of that time and place they did not enjoy the luxury of bathing daily. As was customary for poor and simple people at that time, their “plumbing” would have been an outhouse that was no more than a hole in the ground, probably without even a bench for Mary. She would have spent her days cooking and doing household chores. By today’s standards, to say their house was simple would be an understatement. They each only had a few garments to wear. They had a simple table to eat at that Joseph would have made, but probably no beds and slept on the floor. They would have owned just a few small clay pots to store food, oil, and water in.

They ate a very simple diet with very little meat because they were poor—mostly bread, some vegetables, and gruel or lentils for their large mid-day meal. As was customary, they ate a smaller meal in the evening as their nights were short. Oil to light lamps with was a precious commodity. When they ate fish, it was cooked on sticks over the fire. The freshwater fish from the nearby Lake of Gennesaret were small and each of them would have their own. They would have used their fingers to remove the scales and to pick the fish off the bones, since forks were not available at the time. Like most people of their day, prior to the use of refined sugar, they did not have our concept of dessert; fruit was eaten only on occasions when it was in season and could be obtained. Walnuts were a staple but they needed to crack open the hard shells each time themselves.

Jesus’ Mother probably did not know how to read or write, as women at that time were not taught to do so; written manuscripts were rare and not available in most people’s homes. We can imagine their evenings in prayer. We can imagine the tears of Mary and the concern of Joseph as they looked for and then found the child Jesus in the Temple when he was twelve years old, and the tears and embraces that first night back, reunited with each other. The child Jesus, while he never needing to be corrected or rebuked for moral failures, still needed to be taught how to live and navigate this world—while he possessed the virtues he still needed to learn life’s skills.

Although it is not recorded in Scripture, tradition suggests that Joseph had peaceful death when Jesus was a young man. Jesus was no longer a child when St. Joseph died, and he had the skills and ability to take care of Mary. Imagine how dearly Jesus and His Mother would have loved Joseph. After Mary, no human has loved God more perfectly and fully than St. Joseph. He lived with and held God in the flesh. No person, other than Mary, lived in such proximity to Our Lord. When Joseph died, there were tears, but not of sorrow, for they knew where he was going and that his life and death had been filled with a level of peace and love that is beyond the comprehension of those of us who are incapable of such purity of love, faith, and devotion.

Imagine if Mary had not said yes, had not given her fiat, to God at the Annunciation. Imagine if Joseph had not said yes to God, even though he didn’t fully understand what he was saying yes to or what it would mean for his life, and even when prudence would have advised a quiet divorce. He said yes not knowing he would have to flee to Egypt, or be married but live in perfect chastity, or raise the boy Jesus that he knew was not of his flesh. Joseph the silent, who utters no words for the history books, was not only the holiest person who ever lived other than Mary, but in a sense, St. Joseph underwent a kind of martyrdom for Christ. While He did not physically die for Christ, Joseph gave his entire life for the living Christ and Mary. While his sacrifice was hidden and interior, by giving his whole life entirely Joseph was in a real sense the first martyr for Our Lord.

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These reflections on Our Lord’s hidden life can help us cultivate we might call “holy gratitude”. We can be appreciative or grateful when someone does something nice or helpful for us, or when we appreciate our life circumstances. But then there is a form of spiritual gratitude that transcends our circumstance or anything that has been done or given to us. It means being grateful to God for all of our circumstances, no matter how difficult they may sometimes be.

It is found in Mary and Joseph’s gratitude for the women who assisted at Jesus’ birth. It is found in their gratitude for the humble stable where Our Lord was born, even though it was hardly fit for a king. It is found in Joseph’s gratitude for the opportunity to father the child Jesus and protect Him and Our Lady. It is found in Our Lord’s own gratitude for His simple life in Nazareth.

As I suggested in my previous post on Christ’s death, it is found when we contemplate Our Lord’s beaten and bloodied body being prepared for burial, lovingly anointed with olive oil and wrapped with herbs. It’s the feeling we have when we look at His bloodied face and see a face as beautiful, and perhaps more so, than when it was unmarked before His Passion. It’s the feeling we have when He lets us rest inside His wounds and listen to the beat of His heart.

In the hidden life of Jesus and the Holy Family we can more fully comprehend the Eucharist—Jesus coming to us today, hidden, under the appearance of bread and wine. Unless we understand the humility of Jesus’ entire life, from conception until death, we cannot fully comprehend the magnitude of God becoming man, dying on the Cross, and then being willing to give himself to us in Holy Communion.

The Cross shaped the entire life of Christ from beginning to end. Jesus was laid in the wood of the manger at Christmas. Later, as a carpenter, He plied his trade with wood. Finally, in the end, he was outstretched on a rough piece of wood—the very material of His trade as a carpenter—in a gesture of love; and with hammer and nails—the very tools of His trade—He was fastened to the Cross. He was affixed to this Most Holy Cross not only by nails, but more by His love for you and for me—for each of us alone and individually.

We can enter more deeply into this by repeating this simple prayer many times daily: Doce me passionem Tuam—teach me Your suffering.

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