There’s one person in the story of the birth of Jesus who remains a bit of a mystery: the innkeeper. The innkeeper, if that’s even the best way to refer to this person, doesn’t even make the cast of characters in most nativity displays.
What do we know about the innkeeper?
Not much. Luke 2:6-7 says, “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.”
As we see, the Bible makes no mention of an innkeeper. Yet most of us who grew up with the story of Christmas see him as a gruff hotel manager of the Embassy Suites Bethlehem who forgets to turn on the neon ‘no vacancy’ sign and sends a young mother in labor out behind the dumpster to give birth. Various translations of the Bible include the word “inn” in verse seven, while the NIV above uses the word “guest room.” This alone cracks open the door to a new understanding of the innkeeper motif.
Public inns were not five-star hotels in those days. They were nasty, and those who ran them were nastier still. Bethlehem, being a very small town of approximately 200 to 500 people, probably did not have a public inn at all.
The word Luke uses for “inn” is not the word used for a public hotel. Luke does use that word later in his gospel, but the word he uses here is simply the word for room. It’s the same word used for the upper room of the Passover meal later in the Gospel of Luke.
So, this isn’t a large hotel but a small home. Who’s home?
The occasion that brought Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem was a census. When we think about a census, we just think about counting the population so the government can know how many are in our district, city, state and nation. During this time, Rome wasn’t just interested in counting. They were interested in taxing.
Rome required citizens to register in their hometown for tax purposes. So, everyone, Joseph included, was coming back to the place of their lineage. Joseph and Mary were making their way back to where all of his family members — aunts, uncles and cousins — were from. This is why things were so full.
So, the innkeeper wasn’t a hotel clerk or front desk attendant at all. The innkeeper was a member of the family who was already offering hospitality to his people.
What do we know about the accommodations?
Most 1st century homes had at least two levels for different purposes. There was often an upstairs room that was called the guest room or the guest chamber. Below, was a downstairs that was a multipurpose area. It’s where work was done and where some would sleep if the upstairs rooms were taken.
It was also the place where they brought their animals inside at night so that the animals wouldn’t be stolen or lost on unfenced property. A barn far from the living quarters was susceptible to wild animals and thieves. Livestock were prized and important possessions, so people kept the animals close, as demonstrated by archeological digs in the area.
“No room.” That was the message Mary and Joseph received. Why?
The simplest explanation is that the home of Joseph’s closest relative in Bethlehem was full. Other relatives had gotten there first and maybe the host thought it rude to expel someone who was either there first or was older and had seniority. Or perhaps, the decision was made to not make room to avoid the shame of letting an unmarried, pregnant woman into the house.
While we can’t be absolutely sure, it’s highly likely that since a guest room was not available for them, Joseph and Mary had no choice but to head to the lower level, virtually a public multi-use space among the animals where a feeding trough was fashioned into a make-shift crib.
Such a birth was far from typical in 1st century Jewish culture. These were civilized, intelligent, educated and, above all, hospitable people who cared deeply about human life. It would be highly unusual for a young woman about to give birth to be turned away from any house in the city.
And yet, “Mary brought forth the child, wrapped him in swaddling cloth, and laid him in a manger.” Usually, a midwife would clean the baby and wrap him. Yet there was no one. Mary did it herself, placing the newborn in a feeding trough.
This Christmas I’m thinking about what I would have done if I were the one responsible for the home. Whether intentional or not, the innkeeper, or more accurately, the family homeowner, was face-to-face with a family in need and could have done more. I think we would all regret not making more hospitable accommodations for the one giving birth to the King of Kings.
Why didn’t they offer more?
While we can’t say for certain why they didn’t offer more, I do know why I fail to offer more. I am often too distracted by what’s going on in front of me to adjust for the most vulnerable around me. I am often too distracted by the busyness of what I’m doing, and I miss what Jesus is doing in me and around me. I am too easily distracted by pursuing what’s comfortable rather than doing what love requires.
While thinking about the host in the story, this question lingers: Will I later regret my approach to Christmas this year?
Two next steps can help us answer this question.
Step 1: Make room for Jesus. We can make room for Jesus in our lives this year by quietly reflecting on the truths of John 1, studying the prophecies fulfilled in Matthew 2, praying through Mary’s Song in Luke 1, gathering at church on Sunday, inviting others to a Christmas Eve service, and/or by repenting of the worship of comfort.
Step 2: Make room for a person in need. I doubt that the first floor accommodations Joseph’s host offered to him and Mary were a gift of grace. Bethlehem, as a community, had an opportunity to serve, and they missed it. Let’s not make that same mistake. May we make room for Jesus and others this Christmas.
Eric Nelson is executive pastor of teaching and ministry at South Mountain Community Church, a multi-site church meeting at four locations throughout Utah—Draper, Lehi, South Jordan and St. George. The church also has a Spanish language congregation. After a 10-year career in student ministry in the Pacific Northwest, Nelson and his wife, Carrisa, moved to Utah to plant SMCC Lehi. The Nelsons have two children.
