Christmas, as they say, is coming. And in the whirl of last-minute decorating of home and church, of choir practices and liturgy planning, of shopping and gift wrapping, of preparation for holiday meals with family and friends, it is good for us to take a few moments today to remember a most important, yet often overlooked, character in the Christmas story.

The person of whom I am speaking, of course, is Joseph. Living in Montreal, where St. Joseph's Oratory towers over our city, and in Canada, of which St. Joseph is the patron saint, we should naturally have a strong devotion to Joseph. But we don't tend to pay a whole lot of attention to him. Perhaps this is because we spend more time reading the Gospel of Luke at Christmastime, in which Mary is the more central character. Devotion to Mary as the mother of Jesus has been central in the religious expression of many Catholics, while Joseph sort of stands in the background: an unsung hero, the "strong, silent type".

In fact, Joseph is conspicuous by his absence from many of our Christmas carols, cards, art, and stories. And even when he is present, iconography often presents him as an elderly, white-bearded figure – more a foster-father than a husband to Mary. Perhaps this absence reflects a struggle in our society around the whole experience of fatherhood, captured by the title of a best-selling psychological work called “Absent Fathers, Lost Sons.”

And indeed, the absence of fathers from the lives of their children - whether by death, divorce, abandonment, or emotional distance – has caused many men (and women too, for that matter) to experience deep pain, and a lost sense of their own identity. In many cases, mothers have made commendable and heroic efforts to try to be "both parents" to their children. Yet studies continue to show that children thrive best when raised by a mother and father who have a strong and loving relationship with each other, who embrace together the tasks and challenges of raising their children in a loving and stable environment. This is one of the reasons the Church instiuted a special feast in honour of the Holy Family: to remind us that this is where the deepest lessons of life are learned, where our character is formed, where our capacity to form strong loving bonds is established.

We don't really know a whole lot about Joseph from the Gospels. Jesus is called the "son of the Carpenter", so we can deduce his primary occupation; Matthew also tells us that he is descended from the line of David, so we can trace his family tree. Beyond that, nothing much. But in today's Gospel, we receive a key detail about Joseph, one which helps us understand the special role God would give him in Jesus' birth and upbringing. We are told that "Joseph is a tzaddik, a righteous man".

Now to contemporary ears, righteousness is not a word that means a whole lot to us. It seems a bit distant, smug even. Perhaps a better synonym would be "integrity". Joseph was a man of integrity, a man whose life was inspired by the search for God's will and a determination to letting that will guide his decisions - even when it meant making hard choices.

In today’s Gospel, Joseph is facing a major dilemma. On the one hand, he loves Mary, and wants to take her home as his wife; on the other hand, as a law-abiding Jew, he is faced with the knowledge that Mary is pregnant, and he knows that HE isn't the Father. What to do? We can sense his ambivalence. He wants to stand by his fiancee, but he feels torn, perhaps betrayed, certainly confused. Because he has had no share with this newly-conceived life, he wants to leave Mary her freedom, and at the same time protect her reputation - not to mention her life. Under Jewish law, Mary could have been accused of adultery and stoned, because a betrothal contract already existed between her and Joseph.

Joseph is about to withdraw from the picture, when we are told that "an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream." When we hear "angel", we tend to think that some large winged creature beamed down and declared unto him in thundering, crystal-clear tones. If only all messages from heaven were so clear! But no, "angel" is merely the Hebrew word for "messenger", and it is in a dream that God communicates his message to Joseph.

In his dream, Joseph learns something about God's dream for him, God’s plan for his life. He responds to God's call to become part of this family which we now call Holy: Jesus, Mary, Joseph. It's important for us to see the three of them together. We often call Jesus son of God, son of Mary. As if his divinity came from God, and his humanity came from Mary. Biologically speaking, I suppose this is true. But there is so much more to being human than just your flesh and blood, your genetic code, your DNA. It has to do with belonging to a family, with relationships, with being a member of a people and sharing its history, culture and faith.

And being a father is much more than just siring a child. It is a lifelong commitment to love, care, protect, and provide for your child, to be present in good times and in bad. Joseph was a true father to Jesus. In giving Jesus a name, in assuming legal paternity, he gave him what Mary might not have been able to do by herself in the atmosphere of those times - that is, provide Jesus with a home, with security, support and love. Through Joseph, Jesus will be recognized as the son of David, son of Abraham. Jesus will belong not only to God, but also to a human family - made up of patriarches and prophets, great kings and obscure nobodies, righteous and sinners. Because of the "yes" Joseph and Mary give to God's messenger, Jesus truly becomes one of us.

This must have been a huge leap of faith for such an unassuming, unpretentious man. But in his own quiet but courageous way, he took it. He made his choices, accepted his responsibilities, as a good father, as a righteous man. And in so doing, he, like Mary, becomes a model of faith for all of us. He certainly does for me.

For like Joseph, I know what it is to be faced with dilemmas in my life. Some big ones, many small ones. At times, I am confused, don't quite know what to do, agonize over what decision to make, afraid that I'm "damned if I do, damned if I don't." But Joseph sat still and waited. He listened within himself for an answer. And deep inside, he hears a voice of truth. The Scriptures call this voice the "angel of the Lord". We have other words for it - "conscience", "integrity", "the will of God." However we name it, like Joseph, we too must listen to it and respond.

This kind of listening – whose importance Pope Francis has highlighted in his recent letters on the call to holiness and vocation – is called discernment. It includes major, once-in-a-lifetime decisions, but also the ongoing process of living in fidelity to those commitments. It's entirely possible – likely, in fact – that even after his decision, Joseph may have been plagued with turmoil and doubt. "Am I making the right choice? What does God really want of me here? Why should he call me to be a father to his son? How can I ever do it?" But through it all, Joseph seemed to know that this family, this life with Mary and Jesus, with all its twists and turns and adventures, was the dwelling-place of God. And so, he continued to pay attention, to listen to that still, small voice within.

Soon, it will be Christmas. Life is so busy and hectic, and it's hard to find time to be quiet, to reflect on the deeper meaning of the new life God desires for each of us as we celebrate the birth of his Son. But maybe we should try. For like Joseph, each and every one of us has an angel: a messenger of God inside me, speaking God's unique truth for my unique life. To hear this voice, we must be still and listen deeply. And when we do, we will discover that our homes, our families, our hearts are the place where Emmanuel – God-with-us – Jesus the Son - has come to dwell. Like Joseph and Mary, let us make space for his arrival. Amen.