Was the Innkeeper Really So Unwelcoming?

I’ve been “gifting” in my blogs the last few days AND gifting is what I’m doing at my dining room table. No food allowed on that table right now because it’s loaded with wrapping paper, ribbon, scissors, tape, gift cards and gift items to wrap. I’m getting my Christmas gift list checked off, one-by-one.

Speaking of lists, this time of year stirs up memories from my Holy Lands bucket list trip in 2017. Celebrating Christmas in June in Bethlehem at the Church of the Nativity was awe-inspiring. Singing “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”, receiving Holy Communion and worshipping the King in the actual cave of His birth and the opportunity to go down to the grotto where a star is embedded in the floor that recognizes the actual birthplace of our Savior. We bent low to touch or kiss the star. It was a profoundly emotional and spiritual experience. Our guide said, “Say thank You, Jesus, for my salvation!” We did. So what about that innkeeper? I’ve always thought he must have lived with regrets for turning down the “royal” family to stay in his inn. He appears to be cold-hearted. After all, he’s the guy that shut the door on Joseph and Mary, right? I read this beautiful contradiction to that mindset by Jeff Taylor.

“I had never thought much about the innkeeper. He is depicted in Christmas stories and pageants generally in one of two ways. Either he closes his door in the faces of the couple, or he shows them around back to the stables with the animals. What is the truth about the innkeeper?

None of the biblical accounts of the birth of Jesus even mentions the innkeeper. In fact, the only reference to a manger or an inn is in the Book of Luke. “And she brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke.2:7). On the basis of that single sentence, we convict the innkeeper of shutting Jesus out. Perhaps we have been too hard on him.

I think the innkeeper is an improbable hero. He had no reason to know that the strangers at his door were about to bring the Messiah into the world. Had he known, perhaps he would have made room for them, but that would have meant that some other weary travelers would need to be displaced. Yet, rather than making excuses, the innkeeper was resourceful, and gave what he could give — not a room or even a corner in his already crowded inn, but the stable (or cave) that demonstrates that the King of the world is at home with the humblest of the humble.

The arrival of the long-expected Messiah stood out in contrast to peoples’ expectations. He did not come in a manner befitting of a king. No pomp and circumstance, no great earthquake, no thunder and lightning, no burning bush, but anonymously and humbly. Jesus born in those surroundings would grow up to teach us to believe the unbelievable, to be prepared for the unexpected, and that the poor and meek will occupy a prominent place in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Less prominent than even the lowly shepherds and animals, the innkeeper is neither mentioned by the writers of the Gospel nor placed in the crèches that adorn our mantels and tables during Christmastime. Rather, he was and is behind the scenes, humbly and anonymously playing a major part in God’s great plan. He serves as a reminder to us that God uses what we have. Perhaps we should be more like the innkeeper.

Dear God, Give me the compassion of the innkeeper. Even when circumstances indicate that I have used up everything I have to give, give me the courage to stand out in contrast to the status quo, and the awareness and the resourcefulness to make room for Christ. Amen.