One of the pieces of advice that married Catholics often give to single Catholic women who wish to get married is to pray to St. Joseph.
Mary's faithful and loving husband is believed to be the ideal intercessor for women looking for someone like him: the strong, silent type (just kidding, just kidding). I can't tell you how many times I've been told, «Make a novena to St. Joseph!» or «Have you ever tried asking St. Joseph?» Once, this happened on a live radio broadcast, and I was moved to tears as I responded, «That's not how prayer works. I have prayed the novena to St. Joseph many, many times, and nothing ever happens. In fact, nothing ever happens when I pray novenas, period.».
I finally counted them: 21. I have prayed the novena to St. Joseph, husband of Mary, which ends on his feast day, March 19, every year for 21 years. My novenas are now of legal drinking age.
Although I've probably phrased it differently each year, depending on my mood, one of my intentions for the novena has always been, «to find a man to share my life with.» And about five years ago, I discovered a prayer to St. Joseph that I love, so I started praying it every night after evening prayer. So I declare: St. Joseph has left an indelible mark on me.
Prayer is a relationship. It is a conversation with someone real, whom you cannot see but whom you trust exists and listens to you. It can be verbal or silent, tearful or joyful. During all these years of my closeness to St. Joseph, he has remained silent. He has left me in the dark and in uncertainty (sorry, iPhone users). But I continue to trust that when I ask him for something, he hears me. He prays to God for me, as a good friend would. He just doesn't tell me. He doesn't give me information. He doesn't reveal his secret to me.
The only reason I can continue to trust that Joseph lives in heaven and intercedes for me is that I have people in my life who are a bit like him. People who do things quietly, but generally keep their thoughts to themselves. They send me packages when they know I've hit a rough patch. They text me funny memes or offer to bring me coffee. Their kids start calling me «Aunt Sara» even though no one has told them. They may not share much of what they think or feel at any given time - apparently I already do for everyone - but they are present. They are there. And so is St. Joseph.
In the Church there is a long tradition of accepting the silence of God. I am not referring here to the dark night of the soul, which is a specific suffering of the saints who have reached a level of contemplation that I have certainly not reached. I am referring to the apparent lack of response from the Father, something normal and ordinary.
St. Teresa explained it by saying that she saw herself as a little toy that belonged to the Child Jesus, a toy that he could take or leave, according to his will. She said she didn't mind being set aside, waiting to be chosen. For me, that has been a real challenge, as I do want to be chosen, not only by Jesus, but also by a good man. I am not one to seek attention, because, on the contrary, I seek to support and defend the many wonderful women in my life. But we all want to be chosen. We all want someone to look at us and say, «That's the one.» And so far, San Jose has not helped me make that happen.
In the summer of 2023, I went to visit a friend in Montreal. Since she was working during the day, I took the opportunity to tour the city. One of the places I didn't give up on was St. Joseph's Oratory. It was one of those places that people told me I had to go on pilgrimage to if I really wanted to find a husband. «My friend did it and she met her husband the next day!» they would tell me. Well, (spoiler alert!) I didn't meet my husband at the oratory.
What did happen was that, in the crypt, where countless candles flicker in front of St. Joseph under different invocations, I found myself lighting one in front of the «patron saint of the dying,» for my father. This didn't make much sense, since my father wasn't dying (as far as I knew), but I thought I'd ask Joseph to help him anyway. This brought me some comfort when he passed away suddenly in January 2024.
St. Joseph has been silent when I have asked him for help in finding a husband, but he has not been completely silent: he has supported me when I have needed it, in ways I didn't even know how to ask for. Like any good friend.
St. Joseph, pray for us.
This article was originally published in Angelus and is reproduced here with permission of the publisher.
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