What Saint Joseph of Cupertino Teaches Us About Belonging

Saturday, February 8, 2025.

In the vast pantheon of Roman Catholic saints, few are as peculiar—or as profoundly instructive to family therapy—as St. Joseph of Cupertino (1603–1663).

Known as the "Flying Saint," Joseph was a Franciscan friar who reportedly levitated during prayer.

But before he became a celestial wonder, he was a bumbling, ridiculed, and unwanted man—a man who, by all worldly measures, should have been cast aside.

Joseph was not a bright student.

In fact, his absent-mindedness made him the laughingstock of his town.

He was so inept that even the Franciscan friars hesitated to accept him. He failed at nearly every task he was given. He broke dishes, lost tools, and forgot simple instructions.

His own family rejected him, finding him an embarrassment. And yet, through what some would call divine intervention and others might call the sheer force of his heart, he was eventually ordained a priest.

His story mirrors an essential truth in family therapy: the members of a family we are most tempted to dismiss—the ones who feel like burdens—are often the ones who, when fully accepted, transform the family itself.

The Scapegoat Child and the Levitation of Grace

If Joseph of Cupertino were alive today, he probably would be labeled as "neurodivergent."

His inability to concentrate, his absent-mindedness, and his seeming incompetence would make him a classic scapegoat child in family systems theory.

The scapegoat in a family is often the member who carries the dysfunction of the entire unit—the "problem child," the difficult one, the embarrassing one. Scapegoats are often the truth-tellers, the sensitives, or simply the ones who refuse to fit the rigid mold their family expects.

Therapists know that when families bring in a "problem child" for counseling, it’s rarely just about that child. It’s about the family system that created the problem.

The child’s behavior is the symptom, not the cause. When Joseph of Cupertino was thrown out of his own home and shuffled from monastery to monastery, it wasn’t because he was truly unworthy—it was because his existence reflected something uncomfortable back to the people around him.

And yet, when he was finally accepted into a community that valued him—not for what he could do but for who he was—his true gifts emerged.

He developed a deep mystical prayer life, and soon, his levitations began. People flocked to him. The man who had once been discarded became the center of a community.

How many times do families overlook their own Josephs? The quirky child, the sensitive teenager, the difficult spouse? How often do we label someone "the problem" rather than look at what their struggles might be revealing about us?

The Power of Radical Acceptance in Families

Joseph’s story teaches us that acceptance is the foundation of transformation.

Families that thrive are not the ones that create the most perfect members, but the ones that learn to hold space for imperfection. The black sheep of the family often carries the family’s deepest wisdom—if only the family has the courage to listen.

In therapy, I often ask families: What if the child you’re most frustrated with is the key to your family’s healing? What if, instead of trying to fix or exile them, you sat with them, understood them, and—like the friars who finally accepted Joseph—welcomed them as they are?

Joseph of Cupertino teaches us this: When we stop trying to mold people into what we think they should be, they begin to soar.

Final Thoughts: The Call to See the Unseen

Families today, like the religious orders of Joseph’s time, are often quick to discard those who don’t fit the mold. The black sheep, the odd one out, the burden. But history—and therapy—tell us that these are the very people who might carry the family’s salvation.

We do not need to believe in levitation to see the truth in Joseph’s story.

We only need to recognize that grace often moves through the ones we are most tempted to overlook. Family healing begins when we stop looking for perfection and start looking for belonging.

And when that happens—when a family finally embraces its most difficult member—not only does that person change, but the family itself is lifted.

Maybe not into the air.

But into something just as miraculous.

Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.