The title, and inspiration for this sermon, came from a prayer in Sundays and Seasons.
Into the manger of God’s love
In children’s Christmas programs, the role of the innkeeper who turns Mary and Joseph away from his inn isn’t a very popular one. I mean, really
who wants to play the guy who couldn’t make room for the mother of Jesus?
To be fair to him, the census was probably a big time for his business—
a chance to make money while offering a necessary service—
lodging for those who had come from far away in order to register for the census.
And if you’d allow me some poetic license,
I’ll suggest that he was a kindly person
because his business was hospitality.
He genuinely wanted to provide folks with a place to stay.
When I think of this innkeeper, who isn’t mentioned in the story at all,
I think about an illustration in a children’s book that I have called The Nativity.
In the scene where Mary and Joseph come to the inn,
it shows a building with people swarming all over—
hanging out the windows; on the roof, milling about in the yard….
in the drawing, there is literally no room in that inn.
To bring in 2 more people would mean throwing someone else out.
And the innkeeper’s innate sense of hospitality wouldn’t allow it—
and fairness would dictate that that just wasn’t right
And while the innkeeper and his family may have prepared for the census
by bringing in extra beds, more food, more linens, more housekeepers
they hadn’t planned on the mother of the messiah…..
In all the children’s pageants and stories that we see and read,
the innkeeper does allow that he has a stable in the back
and that the couple are welcome to stay there with the animals….
Luke doesn’t tell us whether they were invited to use the stable,
or if they simply found their way there out of desperation—
seeking a more quiet place for Mary to give birth…
and there was likely no time to go on to the next village looking for room,
nor even time to beg admittance to a private home….
the idea of preparing for childbirth in the way that we do now
would have been foreign to them
Mary’s preparation seemed to have consisted of
refusing to be separated from her betrothed husband, Joseph
so close to the time the baby would come,
and evidently in bringing some sort of cloth which they used to swaddle the baby—
whether the bands of cloth were ready, or whether the couple had to tear apart a garment.
At any rate, a place was found, and Mary gives birth to the savior of the world. They clean things up after the birth; they clean the infant and wrap him in bands of cloth—
and, no doubt fatigued from all this, they wish to lay him down
so that he, and they, can rest.
and what is there for this purpose
but the feeding trough for the animals—the manger?
As we know from many Nativity scenes ,
this trough might have been filled with scratchy hay
and there they laid the Messiah— the son of God—
in the trough where cows and sheep and goats fed
in a stable which may or may not have even had its manure shoveled out recently
the one who is Immanuel: God.is.with.us came to dwell on earth,
arriving in the full messiness of life,
into the unplanned and unprepared labor and delivery suite of a stable—
the place where earthly creatures lived—
close your eyes for a moment—
visualize it; smell it, hear it
and then look into the manger filled with God’s love….
Because Jesus came into the world the way that God chose—
Unexpectedly showing up and bringing light into the world in a humble place
A place that was unprepared for the birth of the Messiah—
yet welcomed him nonetheless
he came to a people who had not yet made room for him–
God comes even when there is no room
even, or perhaps, especially when we are unprepared for God
to break into our world
and into our very lives
God comes, and if you’ll notice—
the first humans to know that the savior had come
were not presidents, emperors, kings, politicians or even priests—
the first humans to hear this good news from the angels
were poor, smelly, dirty and powerless working class shepherds
who had stayed up all night to protect their sheep from predators and thieves—
just people going about their ordinary lives of work-
not particularly pious or free of sin—
because God appears for us all—no matter who we are—
God comes to our imperfect, inconsistent, unprepared selves.
And, since the innkeeper is a character that we imagine into this story,
I’d like to imagine his response when he realizes
that he turned away Mary, the mother of Jesus–
“God? You sent your son into the world to save us, and I turned him away.
I am so sorry—I have sinned against you by my thoughts and words
And by this terrible deed—“
And, God, tenderly replies,
“Oh, no, child of mine. You did no terrible deed.
In fact, your stable provided the shelter and the manger—
the place where my love came down to earth right among all people
and all created life—
a place where the shepherds might come and see him—
and then go out and tell the world what they had seen.
Innkeeper, you provided the manger so that I could fill it with my love—
my Word made flesh—Jesus, the messiah who will save his people—
including you—from their sins.
If you did not recognize him at first, you know him now.
As do we.
Whether we are prepared and waiting,
or preoccupied and not paying attention—God comes to us—
no matter who or what or where we are.
God comes and interrupts our ordinary lives, bringing love into the manger,
and the gift of Jesus who gave his life for us all—to the world.
Amen.
