In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. (Luke 2:1-7)
It’s easy isn’t it to read these familiar words and then lay them aside until next Christmas? Easy to see what we’ve always seen. As a preacher I struggle to find something new in these words. Then, I hear the voice of my better self or, perhaps, the voice of the Spirit saying, “How can you hope to find a more glorious story—you just need to read it slower.”
So, let’s do that for just a moment.
“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.”
Of course, we all know the story of how Joseph and Mary had to head off to Bethlehem so they could be registered. Registered, so the tax rolls would be complete. The Romans didn’t want anyone to slip through the cracks. Nothing new about that; governments want all the taxpayers they can get.
But think about what that word “decree” means. It’s an edict, a command, a mandate. It was a reminder that people like Joseph and Mary weren’t in charge of their own lives. Joseph couldn’t say, “I don’t mind paying taxes but my Mary is pregnant. We’ll just stay here and I’ll send my information by messenger.” No, the Romans wouldn’t listen to that plea; in fact, they enjoyed reminding their subjects just who was in charge. We feel like that sometime—the government pulls all the strings or my company runs my life. We may even wonder how God could do anything in our lives when some other entity has all the power.
In this case, consider who that entity was. The decree went out “from Caesar Augustus.” He was Caesar, the August one. He was Julius Caesar’s adopted son and a skilled commander. When he defeated Antony and Cleopatra about thirty years before Jesus’ birth, he arguably became the most powerful man in the world. The founder of the Roman Empire, he wasn’t especially concerned about the plight of a peasant couple in faraway Palestine.
Don’t miss the mention of Augustus’s underling, “Quirinius … governor of Syria.” He wasn’t a popular governor and this census didn’t change that. He was governor of Syria, a Roman province that would have included Palestine. Now, note this. In the province of Syria, unlike other Roman provinces, women paid taxes. Think of it as a perk of equality. Seriously, this may be why pregnant Mary found herself on the road to Bethlehem.
Then, too, Mary, whom Luke describes as Joseph’s “betrothed, who was with child,” may have been along for the trip because the couple had no choice. To the uninformed, Joseph and Mary gave the appearance of a married couple expecting a child. But, back home, the people were probably very much aware that Mary was pregnant before she and Joseph were legally married. Mary’s friends and some of her family may have turned their backs on her. Perhaps no midwife would be willing to help her. It may be Joseph felt he couldn’t leave Mary behind.
Both Joseph and Mary were descendants of David, so Bethlehem was their ancestral home. But Joseph’s ties may have been more recent. Some believe he owned property in Bethlehem or had relatives in the little city but both those suggestions are conjectures.
In any case, at the insistence of some bureaucrat in Rome, they were heading to a little town whose glory days were clearly in the past. Of course, there were those students who loved to explore the minutia of the Bible who were aware the prophet Micah had predicted the Messiah would be born there. While Mary and Joseph were certainly aware God was up to something great in their lives, we don’t know if they were aware of that bit of Bible trivia.
Joseph may have just wanted the trip to be over so he could get Mary somewhere comfortable and Mary may have thought of little else than the fact that her time to give birth was approaching. Perhaps, because of her condition, she couldn’t travel as fast as others on the road. Maybe she had to rest more often. In any case, they were about to discover there were lots of people heading toward “the house of bread,” Bethlehem.
By the way, as you read this story you need to notice what is missing. Where’s that familiar little donkey Mary is so often pictured as riding with Joseph leading them along? Sure, if scholars like Rodney Stark are correct and Joseph was fairly affluent, there may have been a donkey or even a cart for Mary to ride. But we don’t know that. She may have walked those dusty roads alongside her husband.
Someway, somehow, this exhausted couple finally arrived in Bethlehem. They could rest at last. But “there was no place for them in the inn.”
Now, you should know scholars quibble over the meaning of the word translated as “inn.” Some modern translations render it as “guest room,” which is a very legitimate translation. So, too, is “inn.” It idea is that Joseph’s family had a guest room where the couple hoped to stay but it was occupied when they arrived in the little town suddenly filled with others who needed to register for the privilege of paying the Romans taxes. Scholars who favor the “guest room” translation say Bethlehem was too small and too far off the main roads to have an inn. That is a plausible argument but not necessarily conclusive. Get off the main roads in Oklahoma or west Texas and you’ll see tiny motels with a half dozen or so rooms waiting just in case someone wants to spend the night. Besides, we’re not talking about the Bethlehem Hilton; for that matter, we’re not talking about the Bethlehem “Dew Drop Inn.” So, at least for now, I’m going to bow to tradition and say the couple was turned away from an inn.
In any case, the couple was disappointed in their quest for a place to stay. By the way, it probably wouldn’t have been a private room anyway, just a bit of space to throw down a bedroll.
Now, over the years we’ve heard quite a bit about this despicable, mean-spirited innkeeper (or would-be host, if you insist). But, really, what choice did he have? There was “no room in the inn.” The “No Vacancy” light had been turned on long before the couple arrived. To bring the couple in would mean putting someone else out. And, since everyone was probably crowded already, he may have been kept busy with complaints. He may have already broken up some fights. He knew better than to appeal to his guests’ good nature and ask someone to give up their space. When people are tired and irritated, good nature is rare.
But, I like to imagine him suddenly remembering the stable. According to tradition the world’s most famous stable was in a small cave. Bethlehem’s Church of the Nativity is built over such a cave and Alfred Eidersheim believes there’s a good case for it actually being the site of Jesus’ birth. It would have been warm—or could have been made warm—and it was far more private than the inn.
So, the innkeeper may have just been a man who didn’t have a lot of options but who did something when many would have done nothing. Maybe he said to himself, “I wish I could have done more. But God knows I did what I could. God knows even if no one else remembers I gave a wandering family a place to stay.”
It’s easy to forget how much is accomplished by the people who do what they can. They drop a few coins in a jar at the grocery store to help a children’s hospital. It won’t buy them naming rights to the new wing but because they and thousands of others have done what they could, there are toys for sick children to play with or a quiet area for parents to wait in until the doctor can report on their child.
At Christmas, whether we are thinking of the innkeeper, the legend of the Poinsettia, or even the story of the little drummer boy, it’s important to keep in mind the impact of those who have done what they could.
We don’t know how long Joseph and Mary were in the stable before the Child came. The notion she went into labor the night they arrived is not necessarily found in the text. However, once they were in Bethlehem, Joseph probably felt it was too risky to try to return to Nazareth. So, they waited and before long “the time came for her to give birth.” She probably had the help of a midwife. Then, following the custom, she wrapped the Baby tightly in “swaddling clothes” or “strips of cloth.” Interestingly, modern mothers are returning to this practice, wrapping up the baby in a tight little cocoon-like package. It’s believed the old custom makes the baby feel more secure.
What wasn’t a custom was placing the Baby in a feeding trough, a manger. Some were built of lumber, some were hewed from stone. Though designed to hold feed for cattle, they look remarkably like a cradle. There the Son of God, the Incarnate Word, the Savior slept.
So, there’s the old familiar story. I could go on to talk about shepherds and wise men but I’m going to stop. Instead, let me take you back one more time to the opening of this passage. “A decree went out from Caesar Augustus…” In far-off Rome there was a man who likely never heard of Bethlehem. As the story begins it would be easy to picture this man as the one who has all the power. With a simple decree he could fill the roads of Palestine and elsewhere with his subjects. No appeal to the chaos and inconvenience he was causing would persuade him to change his mind. He was in charge.
But was he?
Decades later, Paul would write, “In the fullness of time God sent forth his Son.” We might put this way: Caesar played into God’s hands.
I you are ever tempted to believe the powers of this world may somehow thwart the plan of God, remember Christmas. The mighty Caesar was God’s agent and he didn’t know it.
Three decades later, the actions of some powerful men had seemingly thwarted God’s plan. Three days later they found out how wrong they were, found out who was in charge.
