Luke 2:1 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 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. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 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 for them in the inn.
It was dark and rainy, the night Cynthia and I were on the road to Colorado to spend time with family. It was in the days when we had cell phones but not smart phones, so we were navigating by map and we were getting tired. Our oldest, Morgan, was crashed in the back seat, but Jordan was awake and watching. We found an exit with a bunch of motels, so we pulled off the highway. All the big, bright signs seemed to welcome us in and we could almost feel the relief of slipping into the cool sheets of bed. Maybe we could find one with a pool so the kids could play the next morning before we left.
Some say we live in dark and troubling times. On the one hand, it’s easy to believe that if we think about the threats of climate change, partisan politics, human migrations on a massive scale, unrest in many lands, destructive forces of earthquakes, hurricanes, fires, floods and volcanoes. So much catastrophe, so much need, so much loss, fear and hatred. On the other hand, we live in a time when many of us have unprecedented access to wealth, power and opportunity. Almost anything under the sun we can order with a click and have it come to our doors. We have one of the lowest unemployment rates the world has ever seen. We live in one of the safest, most prosperous countries in the world, and yet some of us feel anxious about our safety, worried about foreigners coming into our communities, and we find ways to make bubbles that keep out things, ideas and people who are different from our own.
All those big, bright, welcoming signs lied. There was no rest for us in any of those hotels. I know…because I asked at every one of their front desks. Being the persistent kind of guy that I am, I also asked if they had any rooms that were likely to cancel and other bright ideas for getting the room we needed. No luck. So we went on to the next exit, hoping there would be a place for us to lay our heads.
Certainly, if we look back two thousand years, we can see some of our troubles reflected in Jesus’ time. Jesus was born at the beginning of one of the economic golden ages of the world—the Pax Romana. Free trade had meant the making of tremendous fortunes around the Mediterranean. Under the direction of Caesar Augustus, the Roman Empire had secured all its borders and had sufficient resources to guard land and sea routes. Oh traveling and trade still had risks and there were still pirates and bandits, but it was a time of almost unprecedented freedom of movement and prosperity…for some. But in Jesus’ small province, far from the corridors of power in Rome, the wealthy were getting much wealthier, and the poor were just struggling to make it. Palestine was mostly an agricultural area—big on olive trees and growing grains—but lots of the poorest people didn’t own their own land and hired themselves out as day-laborers. Wealthy land-owners or their managers would come by the city square in the morning and hire someone for the day. It was a hard life, and children were your only long-term insurance for aging and working the land if you owned it.
It was twenty-five, long miles to the next exit. There weren’t as many hotels here and the lights weren’t as big. Maybe there wasn’t a dentist convention in this town…but there was a high school graduation. Hotels don’t put up “No Vacancy” signs anymore, because they want you to actually come in and have a customer experience. Well I had three more negative, customer experiences—no room here either. Back in the car. And now it was starting to get really late and we were more tired than ever. Even Jordan had given up and fallen asleep in their car seat. So we were on to the next exit, hoping it would be different there.
Mary was probably a teen-ager, maybe 15 or 16. She had married the much older carpenter, Joseph, and this meant Mary and Joseph were part of a small middle class at the time. Since Joseph was a carpenter, I wonder if he had made a cradle for Jesus to come and if the two of them had spent time getting the nursery ready. With Mary so pregnant, it can’t have been their own idea to leave town right then with and travel the two-day journey south from Nazareth to Bethlehem. They were just doing what they had to do, what the government told them to do. So they went, and they had the same kind of experience Cynthia and I had as we were traveling—a “No Vacancy” sign that meant no place to stay, no room in the inn. And yet, the inn-keeper found a place for Mary and Joseph, just a stable but it was warm. Was there straw to sleep on? Better than nothing. The Son of God—no cradle made by earthly hands, no beautifully decorated nursery—wrapped up snug and laid in a feeding trough.
The next exit was a hotel and it was full, but the night manager was a kind woman and perhaps she saw the desperation in my eyes. There was a room with a single twin bed for the night manager to rest, would I be interested in that? There was enough room for a cot and a port-a-crib. I jumped at it with great gratitude and relief. As we carried our children in, I remember that even the fog of sleepiness couldn’t keep my heart from singing. I have never forgotten that experience, nor the tremendous difference compassion made in our lives that night.
As I look back on that experience, I realize looking for a room and finding “No Vacancy” signs was a lot like other experiences I had had—as a teen-ager, carrying a lunch tray in a new school and finding no space at any tables; as a twenty-something trying to land my first real job, calling place after place, trying to get interviews and finding no positions available for someone with no experience; as a thirty-something in a church that was glad to have me but no one ever invited us over for dinner. I have seen “No Vacancy” signs and they have meant there’s no space, no welcome, no warmth for me.
My friends, there are “No Vacancy” signs all around us in our time, but maybe we don’t see them all the time. We have made for ourselves nice, comfortable bubbles so we don’t have to recognize our power and privilege. Even so, we do live in dark and troubling times, but perhaps no darker nor more troubling than the days in which Jesus was born. In other ways, perhaps our times are darker because I wonder if we feel less compassion. If we were the inn-keeper, would we have found a pregnant traveler a space to sleep? Have we decided that we don’t have time to help our neighbor, listen to an older person, care for someone who is sick, or show a child kindness? Have we decided that those less fortunate have earned their fate, that the hungry and homeless will just have to figure a way, that the immigrants shouldn’t have left their own countries and deserve whatever comes? Then we have put up a “No Vacancy” sign on our nation and our hearts, and when Jesus comes looking for a place to stay, He will just have to move on. The “No Vacancy” sign that Mary and Joseph found in Bethlehem is also a story of compassion, and its voice calls out to us today to find at least that much compassion—at least a stable’s worth!—so that the Son of God can find room in us today.