“In Defense of the Innkeeper”
January 7, 1996
On the Sunday before Christmas, the St. Philip’s Church School, along with their parents, participated in a traditional Mexican celebration called La Posada (The Inn). The young people were all in costume – some as angels, some as shepherds, and two as Mary and Joseph. Everyone went around the courtyard, knocking on all the doors and asking if there was any room. Behind each door stood a child representing the townsfolk of Bethlehem, and when the knock was answered, they said: ‘No, sorry, we have no room here.” The service culminates with the young people and their parents finally being invited into the gallery, and everyone comes in and has a party
The same thing took place in a town not far from here. One of the roles of the Innkeeper was given to a youngster by the name of Mark – a seven year old who was slightly retarded. Mark had never participated in any church event, and he begged his teacher to let him have a part. He was given the role of one of the Innkeepers and given his one line to say. All week, he and his parents practiced: “Sorry, we have no room here.” Finally, the big night arrived. Everyone was there. They were all singing and going from place to place. When Mary and Joseph knocked on his door, Mark opened it and said in a loud voice: “Sorry, we have no room here.” So Mary and Joseph turned sadly away, preparing to go to the next door. Mark watched. Then his face registered.ed first dismay, and then embarrassment, and then grief as he realized what he had done. When the company of children walked away, he ran after them in tears and cried: ‘Wait, stop, I didn’t mean it. You can stay here. You can have my room.”
That ended the Posada. No one knew what to do. The script hadn’t been followed. Roles had been changed. And the Posada ended on a much different note. But somehow, that church learned something which was more precious than the traditional script. They learned that hospitality could come from the most unexpected source – and they learned that you need not always follow the same storyline.
Bill Hull is one of the best-known preachers in the Southern Baptist Church. A number of years ago, he preached a sermon entitled: ‘In Defense of the Innkeeper.” In this sermon, he retells the old familiar Christmas story with a new perspective
He begins by noting the Innkeeper has been made the traditional villain according to our reading of St. Luke’s Gospel. “There was no room for them in the Inn” is usually interpreted as a sign that the Innkeeper was callous and indifferent to the holy couple. Hull reconstructs the whole scene by re-reading the Biblical words.
First, he says the phrase: “And so it was that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.” Hull suggests that the parents of Jesus did not arrive in Bethlehem the afternoon of the first Christmas. They had probably been there for some time. This makes sense. For one, Mary, being pregnant without a known father, would have probably left Nazareth early to avoid the gossip. And second, no one would attempt to make the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem during the ninth month of pregnancy. Riding on a donkey, eighty torturous miles is not what one would do when they are almost ready to deliver.
The other detail that intrigued Hull was how we have translated from the Greek the lines: “And there was no room for them in the Inn.” His research uncovered the basic meaning to be: “There was no appropriate place for them in the Inn.” Hull reminds us that the Inns in the First Century were nothing like our motels. They were little more than a courtyard off of which stalls opened. All you obtained for your money was a place to hitch your animal, some straw where the two of you could lie down, and a wall that would break the breezes of the night. The one thing this sort of arrangement did not provide was privacy. Hull suggests that the Innkeeper realized that this young couple, who had appeared out of nowhere, were approaching an awkward moment. He deduced that an open courtyard was not an appropriate place for this event. Thus, Hull speculates, the Innkeeper, instead of being a callous villain, may have been a compassionate bystander. He might have searched for a private place and located a cave where the shepherds kept their sheep in other times of the year. Here was a secluded place where the young couple could have a measure of privacy. Hull concludes that the Innkeeper, a busy man, was not too busy to notice the plight of strangers.
Who can say whether Hull’s interpretation is real or not. But it has always intrigued me. It shows that you can take a familiar story and see it from a different perspective and receive new learnings. When the Innkeeper becomes simply a busy man, we can begin to see how stories change depending on our perspective. And we can begin to appreciate random acts of hospitality.
In the Gospels, we are never given the Innkeeper’s name. But, just as most of us can recall those people who were associated with our own birth, so, too, must have Jesus. Mary and Joseph probably sent each year whatever was akin to a Christmas card to the Innkeeper.
Bill Coffin, who used to be the Senior Minister of Riverside Church in New York, once preached a fascinating sermon where he speculated that the same Innkeeper had prospered greatly in the 30 years since the birth of Jesus. Coffin suggests that he bought a second Inn in Jericho, and finally retired to Jerusalem, where he bought a beautiful house and made it into a bed and breakfast kind of place – or whatever was its equivalent in those days. And then, Coffin speculates, he encounters Jesus for the second time.
Verse 17 of the 26tIh chapter of Matthew reads: ‘Now on the first day of the unleavened bread, the disciples came to Jesus, saying: Where will you have us prepare for you to eat the Passover? He said, ‘Go into the city to such a one, and say to him: “The teacher says, My time is at hand; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.”””
Coffin postulates that “such a one” was the Innkeeper. And Jesus celebrates the Last Supper in the house of the man who provided shelter for his coming into the world. So Coffin surmises that random acts of hospitality have a way of coming around again, and bringing a further blessing on the dispenser of these kindnesses.
Well, what does all of this focusing on the Innkeeper have to do with you and the New Year? I believe it suggests that we look at Gospel stories with a new perspective. But more than that, I hope it challenges us to look at our own stories – the stories of our lives with new eyes. And maybe – maybe – with these vignettes in mind, we might add one more New Year’s resolution. We might resolve to practice random acts of hospitality. For who knows who will be coming under your roof? it could be an angel in disguise. Or it might be Jesus who would have supper with you. . . AMEN.