By Abbot Marion Nguyen

As Christmas approaches, the Church places before us the figure of Joseph and names him with a single, arresting title: “a just man.” In an age marked by confusion about truth—about reality, about others, and even about ourselves—Joseph’s silence speaks with humble force.

Our modern struggle is not merely moral; it is epistemological. Few adhere patiently to reality as it is. We are tempted either to overconfidence—mistaking partial knowledge for total truth—or to crippling self-doubt, where the fear of failure paralyzes action altogether. Without a stable reference point in truth, our self-understanding oscillates between these two extremes. We either presume too much or trust ourselves too little. In psychological terms, we swing between the Dunning–Kruger effect and imposter syndrome. Spiritually, both are failures of humility and of truth.

Joseph quietly stands at this crossroads.

Confronted with Mary’s pregnancy, he faces the weight of the Law, which demanded a definitive, public resolution. Yet, Joseph does not let legalism override the truth of the person before him. He sees what is before him, but he refuses to absolutize the appearance of sin. He knows Mary’s holiness too well to rush to condemnation. Saint Jerome captures this delicate balance with remarkable insight: Joseph, “confident in her purity and wondering at what had happened, covered in silence that mystery which he could not explain.” This silence was a hidden martyrdom; to protect the mystery, Joseph was willing to forgo his own reputation for ‘legal’ righteousness, appearing to the world as either morally compromised or tragically confused. His righteousness consists in willing to be judged while refusing to judge what he does not fully know.

Either extreme would have shattered the mystery entrusted to him. Had Joseph presumed certainty, he would have condemned Mary—and the Incarnation would have been thwarted by human judgment. Had he collapsed into moral confusion or self-distrust, he would have failed to act responsibly altogether. Instead, Joseph chooses a third way: fidelity to truth as far as it has been revealed, coupled with openness to further revelation.

This is why Joseph’s righteousness is so crucial—not only to salvation history, but to our own lives. He adheres to reality without forcing it. He acts without inflicting harm. He waits without withdrawing. In doing so, he creates space for God to speak.

John Cassian’s teaching on discernment in his Thirteenth Conference illuminates Joseph’s interior disposition. Joseph listens to God through conscience, refusing both false witness and unjust accusation. He listens through circumstances, acknowledging the concrete facts placed before him. And finally, because he has not filled the silence with pride or despair, he is able to listen through another—the angel who reveals the divine truth. Discernment culminates in obedience: “He did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.” (Mt 1:24)

Joseph’s righteousness does not merely protect the Incarnation; it makes it possible. By patiently remaining faithful to truth—partial, costly, and unresolved—Joseph allows God to become flesh in history. And the Gospel quietly suggests the power of committed adherence to truth: to live like Joseph is to allow God to become incarnate in us.

Jesus will later make this explicit: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” (Jn 14:6) To adhere to truth is not simply to follow a principle; it is to adhere to a Person. Those who already believe discover that fidelity to truth is fidelity to Jesus Himself. But this mystery extends beyond the Christian. As the Church teaches in Lumen Gentium 16, those who may not yet know Christ explicitly, yet live righteously according to conscience and truth, already cooperate—mysteriously but truly—in God’s saving work. They, too, in their fidelity to truth, make room for the Word to dwell among us.

Joseph the Just thus stands as a luminous figure for our time. He teaches us that righteousness is not loud, reactive, or self-assured. It is patient, truthful, and humble enough to wait. In a world fractured by false certainty and corrosive doubt, Joseph shows us that the path of truth—however incomplete it may seem—is the very place where Emmanuel still chooses to dwell.