Aside from the Christmas story and Luke’s account of Jesus visiting the temple at age 12, the Gospels offer few details about Jesus’ childhood — including his relationship with his father, Joseph. This absence leaves space for us to wonder about that relationship. It is fitting to do this at Christmas, one of the few times we notice Joseph.

As the son of an unassuming carpenter myself, the older I get the more I appreciate my dad’s role in shaping my early life. In the same way, I appreciate the quiet figure of Joseph in the Christian tradition.

What might Jesus have learned from the craftsman Joseph, and how did this knowledge inform his life and ministry? The Gospels are nearly silent about this. Only Mark notes that Jesus was known as a carpenter himself.

But if Jesus carried on the family trade, it means more than just that he was handy with tools. It means he carried the calluses and the muscle memory of carpentry. It means he knew the satisfaction of tangible outcomes at the end of a hard day’s work.

I like to think it means he had a kind, deliberate teacher in his father, as I did. One of my earliest memories is of sitting in the little workroom in our basement, hammering nails into a scrap of wood. Dad never kept me from using his tools but gave instructions on which ones were safe for me to try: screwdrivers, hammers, the hand-turned drill.

He seemed always to have time to show me how to use a tool and gently correct me when there was a better way. He let me practice these skills rather than rushing to do the tasks for me.

By the time I was 8, I could manage the hammer well enough that my dad brought me along to help shingle the roof of the simple ranch house my family was building. I hammered one nail on each shingle while my dad hammered three. We worked side by side while two of my uncles worked nearby.

I am sure I slowed him down, and I must have tried his patience. But I have never forgotten that experience. It was one of many times when I had the satisfaction of working alongside my father and stepping back at the end of the day to see what we had accomplished together.

I would go on to work for my parents’ small construction company throughout high school, gaining valuable skills and appreciation for working with my hands. In college I majored in studio art, where my comfort with tools and affinity for building things led me to tactile media like pottery and metalworking. After teaching high school art for several years, I went to seminary and have spent most of my career in pastoral ministry and nonprofit leadership.

It has been an eclectic professional journey, rooted in two things my father taught me: an appreciation for the embodied knowledge a craftsperson gains over a lifetime of hands-on work and the joy in teaching others whatever skills and knowledge I have come to understand.

I believe Jesus’ childhood might have been something like my own experience as the son of a carpenter. His was the first-century Palestinian version of a blue-collar upbringing.

Through 2,000 years of Christmases, the Christian tradition has celebrated that Jesus came into the world as a vulnerable child of humble background. Though the story is familiar, there is more insight to glean from staying curious about the unwritten details of Jesus’ childhood.

During the pandemic, when so much of our lives had to be lived virtually and remotely, many of us gained new appreciation for embodied, tactile experiences. We spent more time hiking, camping, playing outdoors.

For me, it was a time of seeking every opportunity to work with my hands and to enjoy physical tasks — which led to leaving my job to try earning a living as a carpenter. For the past two years I’ve spent half my time leading a small, grassroots housing organization and the other half self-employed as a carpenter-builder.

Through this journey, I’ve rediscovered gratitude for my dad, who kindled my love for building and creating. And I’ve renewed my appreciation for Joseph the carpenter and his role in Jesus’ life.

Chad Martin is a carpenter, dabbling farmer and executive director of Chestnut Housing in Lancaster, Pa. He attends Community Mennonite Church of Lancaster.