Scripture Luke 2:1-20 (NRSVUE)

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the guest room.

Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace, goodwill among people.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them, and Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told them.

Sermon

This is such a beautiful story—the story that never grows old. So familiar to us, so evocative, so reassuring…

But… wait. Did you notice? One familiar word—a word on which churches, Christmas pageants, nativity scenes, songs, books, and films have leaned heavily in their telling of the Christmas story—one word was missing. And two unfamiliar words were there in its place. Can anyone tell me what the missing word was?

Inn. There was no room for them at the “Inn,” is what we are accustomed to hearing on this night. And instead, our new translation gives us “guest room.” There was no room for them in the guest room.

Here’s the story behind the new telling of the story. At the time in which Jesus was born, it was very common for homes to be fairly humble. In Bethlehem, houses were usually built onto caves. They usually consisted of two rooms, the larger room where the family ate, slept, and lived their lives, and a smaller room for storage, where the family often brought in their animals for the night. This room was also used as a guest room.

That word for the guest room has been mistranslated as “inn” ever since the Bible was translated into English, a good half millennium ago. Because so many people were flocking into Bethlehem for the census, and because Joseph and Mary were probably planning to stay with family, it’s likely their kin had already welcomed some other relative into the guest room. So, Joseph and Mary, great with child, stayed in the cave. There were probably animals who joined them there. And of course, there was a feedbox, also called a manger. This was the child’s first bed.[i]

Why does this matter? It matters because the gospel writer wants to make sure we understand the humble nature of the birthplace of Christ.[ii] Hailed as king by angels and, later, by traveling astronomers, he was not born in a palace. He was not born in a mansion. He wasn’t even born in a borrowed bedroom. He was born in a cave that was part of a home. He was taken in by kin. He was taken in, because, even in all the chaos of the city’s population swelling from fewer than 3,000 people to who knows how many, Jesus’s expectant parents were nevertheless surrounded by family, and not relegated to the stable of an inn.

Why does this matter? It matters because it’s easy for us to relegate Jesus to an obscure corner of our lives or our consciousness. After all… what a story! A teenage unwed mother, visited by an angel who told her she would bear the Son of God the Most High! A ninety-mile journey from one obscure Palestinian town to another. A baby born and heralded by angels and shepherd! It is hardly credible. It makes no sense. It violates all reason. But, as the wonderful Madeleine L’Engle pointed out,

This is the irrational season,
when love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
there’d have been no room for the child.[iii]

This is a story that invites us, not to exercises in logic, but to trust. Not to reason but to a softening of the heart at the immensity of the love of God. At Christmas we stand in awe at the idea that God did not create everything and then peace out to some remote corner of the cosmos. Instead, God decided that life was tough here on earth, and we humans might appreciate the steadfast solidarity of the divine in our midst. So God came in love. God came in complete vulnerability, just as each of us came—a child. Not to a king and queen or the Emperor and his consort. But to nobodies. To poor, ornery people, like you and like I. But surrounded, even in that car-flung town by family. This is because they made room.

This is what we are called to do. How do we do it? How do we make room? Even this season, which purports to welcome Jesus’s birth, makes us so busy it’s in danger of squeezing him out. How do we welcome him into our lives, bring him back from those remote corners where we’ve stowed him along with the ornaments and the strings of light? How do we find him in times of such chaos, wars and rumors of wars, fear and trembling?

We welcome Jesus by welcoming one another. We welcome Jesus by reaching out across every barrier we have created between ourselves and others, whatever those may be… we welcome Jesus by recognizing, by realizing, that Jesus’ face shines out from every face. That welcoming another human, caring for them, supporting them, by advocating for them—is how we welcome Jesus, at this time, and throughout the year. Howard Thurman, a brilliant African-American theologian, educator, and civil rights leader, reminds us, the work of Christmas is year-round. He writes,

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.

This is how we make room: by doing the work of Christmas. Every day. By letting the hope, peace, joy, and love of Christmas fill our hearts and change the world.

~~~

[i] Jim C. Martin, “No Room in the Guest Room,” C. S. Lewis Institute. https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/holy-land-no-room-in-the-guest-room/#:~:text=A%20Bethlehem%20house%20was%20commonly,room%20for%20family%20or%20friends.

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Madeleine L’Engle, “After Annunciation,” A Cry Like a Bell: Poems (New York, NY: Random House Publishing), 2000.