Advent 3
This Advent I will be offering a series of reflections with the theme ‘The Faces She Saw.’
We’ll be thinking about some of the faces that Mother Mary saw in the lead-up to Christmass and today we reflect on the face of someone who said ‘No’ to Mary.
Only Luke gives us the birth narrative of Jesus and we have this intriguing line
“And Mary 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.”
This is jam-packed with questions. Like who was it that actually told them there was no place for them? Was it the barmaid, the innkeeper, the innkeeper's mistress, or a friend of the family who just helping out in the Census rush? We are simply not told. When the rooms were filled and the animals at pasture, an inn would improvise quarters for the poorer people in the animal courtyard. The humility of Our Lord did not begin at Calvary rather began here in an animal courtyard… in a feed trough.
But someone said ‘No’. Hopefully, they also said ‘Sorry’
So at some point, there must have been a conversation. Joseph and or Mary asked the question and an answer was given.
And one of the points I would rush to make is that there is a huge difference between saying
‘No, because I just can’t. I want to, but I just physically can’t do it. '
and
saying ‘No’ because I don’t want to or I don’t like you or I simply can’t be bothered.
It’s OK to say ‘No’ if you speak it with love and moral integrity.
The common legend and that is all we have is that it was the innkeeper and while we are not told it does make sense and I will lay odds that Our Lady and St. Joseph were not the only ones shown to the animal pasture.
And I can’t help but wonder what was going on with the innkeeper’s life.
I speculate that he would not have been enamoured with the Roman government which would have taxed him with great glee and great gusto.
I spectate that he would have worked hard and not every patron would come in peaceful and well-intentioned bonhomie.
On ‘That’ night, that special night, he would have been overrun, over worked overwrought. He would I imagine be longing for the peace of his own bed and some quiet after the rowdy hubbub of the bar.
I speculate too that he would have heard the rumours of a coming king. Longed for the Messiah and maybe practised a faith. That perhaps he was tired. Tired of waiting, tired of being taxed, tired of working, tired of the drunks who are belligerent. He was so tired of the strain that the hospitality industry put on his wife, their marriage. He was just simply tired out.
His work is all consuming and all he wants is a little peace. Peace in all its forms and all its expressions.
Someone called Jason Gray wrote a poem about our mythological, but probable Innkeeper. Listen as he skillfully tells the story that we all know so well and also gives us a hint as to some of the things that we will never know. Like what was going on in this innkeeper's life, his mind and heart.
I found them standing in my door
In the clumsy silence of the poor
I've got no time for precious things
But at least they won't be wandering
If they're sleeping on my stable floor
There were no rooms to rent tonight
The only empty bed is mine
'Cause I'm overbooked and overrun
With so many things that must be done
Until I'm numb and running blind
I need rest, I need rest
Lost inside a forest of a million trees
Trying to find my way back to me
I need rest
As a boy I heard the old men sing
About a Kingdom and a coming King
But keeping books and changing beds
Put a different song inside my head
And the melody is deafening
I need rest, Oh I need rest
Like a drowning man in the open sea
I need somebody to rescue me
I need rest
To Rome we're only names and numbers
Not souls in search of signs and wonders
But we're waiting for the day of our salvation
The Messiah who will be our liberation
We're waiting, I'm waiting
I need rest, I need rest
Oh come oh come Emmanuel
With a sword deliver Israel
I need rest.
Tonight I can't get any sleep
With those shepherds shouting in the streets
A star is shining much too bright
Somewhere, I hear a baby cry
And all I want is a little peace.