Readings for 4th Sunday in Advent: IS 7:10-14; PS 24 1-6; ROM 1: 1-7; MT 1: 18-24.
Do you ever wonder what effect Donald Trump's proclivity for sexual assault might have on the problem of military rape? After all, his racist, sexist, and xenophobic comments along with his personal behavior have already emboldened copycat words and actions by many of his followers including schoolchildren. Will Mr. Trump similarly embolden enlisted men and officers to follow the example of their Commander-in-Chief?
That question becomes relevant on this Fourth Sunday of Advent because the readings for today emphasize Jesus' "virgin birth." Such emphasis resurrects a persistent tradition identifying Mary's "miracle" as the result of military rape.
If that tradition were true, what light would it shed on the problem of rape in the military in connection with the example of its Commander-in-Chief?
Let me put that question in context by offering some background for today's reading from Matthew along with a reference to the selection from Isaiah traditionally seen as a prophecy of Jesus' virginal conception.
To get from here to there, try to understand the situation of Joseph and Mary as young marrieds in a context of imperial aggression. They're a teenage couple; they are poor and living in an occupied country. Joseph is a jack-of-all-trades -- that's what the Greek word we translate as "carpenter" meant in first century Palestine. Like everyone from his class, he was unemployed most of the time. But he'd fix your leaking roof if you hired him. When he could, he'd harvest grapes and wheat for local landlords.
And he was probably deeply involved with the local insurgency against Roman occupation. (Nearly every impoverished patriot is in such situations.) Additionally, the only commentary we have on Joseph's character is Matthew's single word "just." He was a just man. (By the way, his son, James -- the one who headed the Jerusalem church following his brother's death -- was also known as "James the just.") In the Hebrew culture of Jesus' day, justice meant taking the side of the powerless. It appears to have been a central value Joseph passed on to his children.
As resisters, Joseph's kind would have been considered terrorists by the Romans. In fact, the very year in which Jesus was likely born (6 BCE) Galilee's countryside would have been crawling with Roman soldiers fighting against people like Jesus' supposed father. The occupiers were busy laying siege to the city of Sepphoris, the capital of Galilee -- a mere hour's walk from Joseph's village.
There the insurgency had taken a decisive stand against Rome's puppet, King Herod. And like Americans in Iraq's Fallujah under "Mad Dog" Mattis, the Romans were determined to make an example of the city by laying it waste utterly. Before their final offensive, that involved night raids, kicking in doors, and raping young Jewish girls. (All forces of occupation -- including our own today -- know the drill.)
In any case, according to that persistent tradition about her "virginity," that's where Mary came in. She was a young teenager about 12 or 14. Although she eventually became Joseph's "dream girl" (MT 1:18-25), she was probably linked with him by the village matchmaker perhaps when they were both still toddlers. They had not yet begun to live together, because they were probably waiting for Mary to come officially "of age" -- able to bear children.
Be that as it may, Mary suddenly finds herself pregnant out of wedlock. Can you imagine her worry? Innumerable teenage girls can relate to her panic -- and disgrace. Obviously, Mary did not want to be just another of her community's "virgins." [Matthew's term "parthenos" (virgin) to refer to Mary was often connected with children of unknown paternity. Such offspring were disparagingly called "virgins' kids." "Virgin" is what (behind their hands) local matrons called an unwed mother.]
According to the story, Joseph too shared Mary's disgrace and embarrassment. He wanted a divorce (i.e. release from his commitment to marry). And he probably demanded it with the anger and recrimination that are inevitably associated with the dreaded "d" word.
Joseph's anger, suspicion, and thoughts about divorce may also have come from his hatred of the Romans. (And here comes that persistent tradition about Mary's "virginity.") It even remembers the rapist's name. According to Celsus' "True Doctrines" written about 178 C.E., the rapist was called "Panthera." That was also the name of one of the Roman legions involved in that siege of Sepphoris.
Such suspicious circumstances around Jesus' questionable conception also find some support in John's gospel, where Jesus is called a "Samaritan" (8:48). That was a harsh term equivalent to our "bastard." Additionally, Mark refers to Jesus simply as "Son of Mary" (6:3) -- a quite unusual reference in a culture where children were identified by their father's name.
With all of that in mind, and if Celsus' tradition has merit, it's easy to understand how the thought of taking up with a girl defiled by a Roman "pig" (what Jews called the occupiers) probably turned Joseph's stomach. No wonder he wanted a divorce.