"No place for them in the inn"-A Sermon for Christmas Day, Luke 2:1-14
As I am sure you remember me mentioning, one of my focuses while on sabbatical was to try my hand at poetry, and one of the poems I wrote is called: “Space Held”. And, as I reflect back on its creation…I think I had us in mind. That is St. Julian’s…as I was indeed away on sabbatical…separated for a time from those I love so much…those that make up this family of faith, this beloved community…beloved by God…and beloved by me. I think I was also thinking about the times when work or even fun with friends draws me away from those I love most, meaning specifically my family. Those times when travel is required, and we are separated for a time…even if not for a long time. And as I reflected on this poem, “Space Held”, more recently, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, in particular, it began to sort of take on for me the role of a love letter to God in Christ. In particular, the notion of holding a space open, in our hearts and minds, and even bodies, for Jesus to be born once again…bringing new life…new meaning…new direction to the very life which I live, and move and have my being. So, let me now share the poem, and then I will offer a few more reflections on how this speaks to me of what we come here to celebrate together today…Christmas…the birth, the incarnation of Jesus, God with us…God intimately within us.
Space Held
There may be nothing more generous and love-like than a space that is held.
An open door.
A memory of love that is past and at the same time always being made new.
For parting is such a sweet and terrible sorrow.
But in the loss, the separation, an opportunity for something new is given birth.
The moment for re-connection.
The moment for re-gathering.
The moment for a re-co-mingled life.
The moment for a different sort of wonderful loss,
Being lost in the wonderment that is found in us together again.
Sharing time and space in a universe that is always bound together,
Even if the connections are sometimes hard to see.
A restored sort of absence that indeed makes a heart grow fonder.
For losing one another, though actually felt, can only be an illusion.
Perhaps the sort of illusion that enriches rather than deceives.
Thus, there may be nothing more generous and love-like than a space that is held.
A door,
That remains always open.
So, this idea of a door remaining always open…got me thinking about that moment in Luke’s version of Jesus’ birth when Joseph and a very pregnant Mary first arrive in Bethlehem. As the scripture tells us, they make their long journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, mainly on foot, perhaps a donkey helped carry the load to some degree, to participate in a census. All the people in first century Palestine were asked, or more likely required, to travel to their ancestral homes to be counted, so, for this Holy family, it meant their destination was, again, Bethlehem, the home of King David. For the child that Mary lovingly carried in her womb was, indeed, a descendant of David…and, further, was, like David, the baby’s most famous ancestor, to be a king…the king of all of creation…a good king…the best really…the one whose birth would unfold the very events that would bring salvation to all that is made…even you…even me.
Now the birth of each and every child is, indeed, an occasion for celebration, for rejoicing, that life comes again into our world. The birth of a child reminds us of the very power and potential of life…that life wins…that life, and the love it makes possible, is the very thing for which God made this universe. Each child born into our world brings light into darkness…brings hope for a different sort of future for all who are living. Each child born into our world creates the potential for another peace maker come among us…a new thought leader that helps us think about how to be and do better…a new teacher who makes us collectively wiser…a new farmer who grows sustenance for healthy living…a new scientist who give insight into the cosmos or fights the ravages of disease…and of course I could go on. But this particular birth, the birth of Jesus, as our yearly celebrations of Christmas reminds us, is special…is holy…is set apart to transform the entire world. It is more than a royal birth…it is entirely divine…ordered and intended by God from before time itself…such that sin and death can be utterly defeated and love alone…be the end for all that is and will be.
Which takes me back to Bethlehem…for Joseph and, again, a very pregnant Mary, carrying nothing less that Emmanuel, God with us, in her womb, did not arrive to a royal reception…to say the least. They did not arrive at some sort of palace whose staff and best doctors where awaiting to offer care and hospitality…the very best sort of setting for a first century royal birth. You recall they arrived really with nowhere to stay, there were no reservations awaiting them, no hospital to call to have a chair ready to wheel Mary up to some sort of delivery room. In fact, it seems, at least at first, as if there was no “space held” for them. So, instead, they sensibly made their way to what was likely the one inn in town, for Bethlehem was and remains a small town, only to find that there was no room left…no place for them in the inn. But, by the grace of God, there was some sort of space available…if you can call it that…an animal shelter…perhaps the first century equivalent of a barn…most likely a cave of sorts. So, though it may not be what we might imagine to be the sort of place for a royal or divine birth, there is this space, memorialized in our own nativities, that is held, and within it…God comes near…royalty born in the midst of sheep manure and used straw…divinity on the floor of a cave and in the midst of blood, sweat and tears…with a manger, a food trough, for a cradle.
And in the meekness and humility of this glorious birth…Jesus coming into our world…in that meager space so long ago, I see an invitation that today’s yearly remembrance offers us, even calls us to consider…and that is to create in our own lives a space held…a space in our own lives…that at times, if honest, are more cave like than palace like, for our king to be born yet again…for Jesus our Savior, and God so intimately with us, to be born, to take hold. For there is always room in the inn that makes up our real lives. Whether we feel today, on the inside, more like a dark cave or a bright cathedral with light pouring in through stained glass, we have within us a space that can only be filled with God alone…with Jesus who comes, not just this day, but this day and each that follows to fill it…to fill us…for the good life…the Godly life…the giving life…that we are uniquely called to live…that forms us to be the very people we are called to be…if only we will hold the space…hold it always open.
And in this very moment of re-connection…of re-gathering…of a re-co-mingled life, when the dear Lord enters into the space held within our own trembling hearts, we discover the wonderment of life together again…life with each other…life with God…and nothing ever after is or can be the same. Thus, there is nothing more generous, more love-like than a space that is held…a door in our own lives…that remains, for the other, but most especially for God, always open. Amen.