A first-century Jewish man known simply as Joseph of Nazareth became a household name without uttering a single word on the record. I think it’s important to mention that upfront, so it doesn’t trip you up later.
Joseph is virtually invisible in the Bible. The New Testament contains only a handful of references to his unique responsibility as the legal father of Jesus. And in those passages, Joseph does not speak.
According to Christian writings, “Joseph accepted his subsidiary role.” But was it subsidiary? Or just painted that way?
In The Adoration of the Magi by the restlessly imaginative Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch, Mary sits outside a dilapidated barn, holding baby Jesus on her lap. Three foreign dignitaries offer gifts to the newborn.
Just behind the barn, farmers scramble over one another to get a good look at the visitors. Even the Antichrist shows up. That’s him in the doorway, looking like he just stepped out of a Super Bowl halftime show.
In the middle distance, a man leads his donkey toward a house marked by a red flag, suggesting it might be a brothel. Look a bit closer, and you’ll spot a monkey riding the donkey. I suspect there’s a metaphor lurking in there, but with Bosch, one can never be certain.
Meanwhile, down in the valley, Herod’s army searches for the baby boy whose celestial birth announcement unnerved the Judean king.
So, where exactly is Joseph?
On the left panel of this triptych (three-panel painting), the wealthy patron who commissioned the work is kneeling in front of Saint Peter, who is holding the keys to heaven. Back in the shadows, Joseph is warming the new baby’s diapers by a fire.
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Renaissance artists kept Joseph in the shadows so they could put a spotlight on the miraculous birth of Jesus. Sometimes they even used him as scriptural comic relief.
In The Rest on the Flight into Egypt, one of Gerard David’s loveliest paintings, Joseph is relegated to the background, where he is knocking chestnuts from a tree for the journey ahead.
In Nativity by Conrad von Soest, Joseph is huddled over a fire on the ground, cooking a pot of porridge. Back in the barn, an ox and a donkey exchange knowing looks. It seems even animals recognize an offbeat representation of Joseph’s humanity when they see it.
(R) Conrad von Soest, Nativity (1403)
Von Soest portrays Joseph as an older man whose white hair and beard are visual shorthand for “this man is not the biological father of Jesus.”
I’m always struck by the variety of Josephs in art: at times elderly to the point of doddering, at other times young and vigorous, on some occasions industrious, yet often depicted fast asleep.
Elizabeth Lev, “The Silent Knight,” 2021
Was Joseph an old man when he married?
It’s not likely. In the New Testament, Joseph goes on an arduous journey of almost a thousand miles to protect his earthly son and postpartum wife from King Herod’s death squads.
Besides, Joseph was a carpenter, a job that demands strength and agility, especially when working on the king’s monumental building projects.
Joseph probably worked with crews of men. They commuted together to sites by walking, perhaps for miles. The worksites were noisy, and the work was demanding on both muscle and mind.
Mike Aquilina, “St. Joseph and His World,” 2020
If the New Testament is our guide, Joseph was a young man when he married. Moreover, he viewed an honest day’s work a fundamental part of human dignity.
(R) Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Saint Joseph and the Christ Child (1665-66)
Joseph steps out of the shadows
During the 17th century’s emotionally exuberant Baroque period—an era closely tied to the Catholic Counter-Reformation—artists began to depict Joseph in tender father-son moments.
In Saint Joseph Cradling the Infant Christ, Italian artist Guido Reni depicts the white-haired Joseph as an older man experiencing the wonder of fatherhood for the first time. In a complete reversal, Mary and the angel Gabriel are the ones placed in the shadows.
Meanwhile, Spanish artist Bartolomé Esteban Murillo portrays Joseph as a young father scanning the horizon for threats to his family. In Saint Joseph and the Christ Child, Jesus leans against him and looks directly at the viewer. What is the little one trying to tell us? That he personally chose Joseph, of all the men in the world, to be his earthly guardian?
Joseph sails to the Americas
Also during the 17th century, King Charles II named Joseph the patron saint of the Spanish monarchy. Soon missionaries were bringing even more paintings of Christianity’s favorite dad to Mexico and South America to win over religious converts.
Inspired by these imports, the Cuzco School of artists in Peru created a bold new look for Joseph. It’s a happy fusion of Old World technique and indigenous tradition, featuring regional symbolism, a lavish use of gold leaf, and vibrant accents of red and yellow.
In Saint Joseph and the Christ Child, the matching father-son gowns represent Cumbi cloth, a luxurious fabric reserved for Inca kings and queens. Jesus’s cute red sandals also echo those worn by royalty. Yet despite the regal attire, the little boy is carrying a wicker basket full of carpentry tools that beautifully extol the virtue of honest labor.
If the co-stars in this painting look a little flat, it’s because not every indigenous artist was enamored with chiaroscuro and linear perspective, two volume-creating techniques invented in Europe.
Still, Murillo’s influence shines through in this tender portrayal of a father and son walking hand in hand through the lush Peruvian countryside.
A rare glimpse into Joseph’s workshop
The son of a barber, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo was a born storyteller who became the most popular religious painter in Spain. His pictures create an extraordinary interaction between the characters on the canvas and the viewer.
In The Holy Family with a Little Bird, Murillo offers a rare look inside Joseph’s workshop. Mary is winding a skein of thread. On the workbench, Joseph appears to be building a double yoke for oxen.
Mother and father pause to watch their son tease the family dog by holding a goldfinch high above it. The diagonal composition leads the eye right to Joseph, who is pointing out Fido’s admirable patience.
This could be any couple experiencing the simple joys of co-parenting.
The question of race in religious paintings
Since the Middle Ages, the Holy Family has been portrayed with fair skin, as if they were of European descent. In fact, they were Jewish peasants.
In The Holy Family, American artist Janet McKenzie addresses the question of race in religious paintings.
McKenzie shows us a family who has African features or perhaps Mexican or Peruvian features. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did not look like this. But it is a wonderful equivalence, forcing us to recognize both the differences and the similarities. We are compelled to think again and to look twice.
Art historian Wendy Beckett, “America Magazine,” 2010
Rarely seen shades of purple and lavender create a mood of understated dignity. McKenzie also makes it clear this is a family unit. “Joseph shares equal responsibility for raising this child,” says Beckett.
Is this what non-toxic masculinity looks like?
The Bible reveals very little about the inner lives of its characters. Yet, somehow it communicates everything we need to know.
Joseph accepted the hardships that came his way. He protected his family with a calm readiness that is rare, even among history’s heroes.
While I was studying paintings of Saint Joseph, author Christine Emba was writing about toxic masculinity and the identity crisis affecting young men. Her Washington Post column generated so much buzz, the paper published a follow-up: “Who is an ideal man? Our readers have thoughts.”
This reply from NYU professor Scott Galloway caught my eye:
If young men are wondering what good masculinity looks like these days, a decent place to start is by learning the skills that allow you to advocate for others.
If you’re really strong and smart, you will garner enough power, influence, and kindness to begin protecting others. That’s it. Full stop. Real men protect other people.
NYU professor Scott Galloway and host of the Prof G Podcast, 2023
Postscript: If you happen to be in Amsterdam…
Step into “Hieronymus Bosch: Secret Signs” at Vincent Hall in Amsterdam now thru October 1, 2027. This immersive experience presents animated digital projections of Bosch’s remarkably detailed artworks.