WHEN Verelst painted a portrait of King James, he surrounded the likeness with so many flowers in prominent positions that the beholders often mistook the picture for a mere floral study. Obviously there should be some sense of proportion and relative prominence in all pictures. Perhaps it would be better if there had, never been any attempt to represent pictorially the most sacred themes and persons at all, but there can be no doubt that if the attempt be made the most important figure should be given the most prominent place. And this is usually done by accomplished artists. In the great painting, for instance, of “Christ leaving the Pretorium” there is every form of sorrow and passion depicted, yet the central Figure, white-robed, thorn-crowned, divine in suffering and silent dignity, at once absorbs the chief—almost the whole—attention. Still every part of the picture is thronged with figures that are perfect in artistic beauty and interest. Amongst these is a group of the Virgin Mother and some of the disciples that—as has been said—would immortalize itself as a separate painting.
It is in this way that the New Testament has been written. The wisdom, with which all the groups and individuals have been subordinated so as to raise into prominence the Central Figure, is an incidental evidence of the unity and inspiration of the Book, for it would need the credulity of a learned skeptic to believe that a company of unlearned artisans and fishermen had of themselves the exquisite skill to design and indite so marvelous a memoir of their Leader, and thus to present to the world as perfect a portrait of Him as it lay in the power of language to produce.
When, however, we come to look at the subordinate figures in the memoir, we find that often a group of characters is depicted with the same superhuman skill, a few incidental lines, delicately or powerfully graphic, disclosing to us every feature of each till we get to know them as intimate acquaintances. Amongst the first of these groups we naturally see Joseph and Mary.
They were of royal lineage—a lineage so ancient and resplendent with the glories of ancestral prophets, bards, sages, monarchs, and warriors that in comparison with it the most antique family-tree of our times is a mere record of parvenus; yet we find them acting in the circumstances of humble peasants with a patient simplicity, that is the best sign of the highest natural dignity. It is only the true noble-man and noble-woman that can afford to come down in this way. Paul “learned” it— “how to be abased,” without loss of self-respect or true dignity. Dr. Smiles tells us of the descendant of an ancient earldom who was recently earning his living as a bricklayer's laborer. The bricklayers would call to him, “Earl of Crawford, bring another hod of lime.” There was far more dignity in his carrying that lime up the ladder for his living than there would have been in clinging to the skirts of his wealthy relatives, petitioning parliament, and wailing in the newspapers. Plato said that Aristippus was the only man he knew who could wear velvet or rags with equal grace. This dignity in abasement is a goodly sight, unless indeed it be in any way an affectation, as in the case of that one concerning whom Socrates said, “one can see his pride through the holes in his coat.”
“Canst thou not remember Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus? For I esteem those names of men so poor, Who could do mighty things and could contemn riches, though offered from the hand of kings.” That the family of Nazareth was poor is evident from their purification offering: they brought the two young pigeons which were appointed as the sacrifice for such as were “not able” to bring a lamb. Yet nothing abject in their honest and decent poverty: Joseph was “the carpenter “; there was a still cheaper sacrifice that they might have availed themselves of which was appointed for those in extreme poverty (even for a sin-offering)—a handful of flour. They did not offer this, and we may be sure that it was not lack of will that hindered them from offering the lamb, for they went five miles from Bethlehem to Jerusalem to dedicate the Babe, and they came all the way from Nazareth every year to the passover.
When at first it was thought that a great sin had been committed, Joseph (because he was a man of honorable principles, as the scripture explains) determined to dissociate himself from it at all cost to his personal feelings; yet privily, to avoid the infliction of unnecessary pain and scandal on one whom he loved; but when God reveals to him the truth, he acts in direct and implicit obedience, purity, and simplicity. Again when he is warned of danger to the holy Child, he directly takes the Child and mother to Egypt and shelters and protects them through the long, dangerous journeys subordinating all his own interests to their care and safety. It was a manly and honorable charge to protect a woman and child—quite as truly so, when it involved great and unceasing danger, as to lead in the van of an army, though it may receive neither notice nor applause. An upright, devout, gracious, simple laboring man, with royal blood in his veins and royal faith in his heart, Joseph was, by divine grace, in every way qualified for such an important trust. Again, we cannot help thinking of that illustrious chief whose integrity was so great that the people of the hostile countries through which his army passed would bring their goods to him to protect them from the marauding of their own soldiers; and who when his Queen gave him the Kohinoor diamond to get polished, never once let it go out of his sight, but would sit an hour every day whilst the jeweler worked at it, and then wrap it up in his silk handkerchief to take it home. The heart of his Sovereign could safely trust him. From various passages it is concluded that Joseph had died before our Lord's public ministry commenced.