Sorry, No Room
We often read with delight the Christmas story from Luke 2. We teach our children Jesus was born in a stable because there was no room in the inn. It was full, after all. A census had been ordered. Everyone had to go to his city of birth to register. So Jesus was born in a stable with all the cute, fun animals surrounding Him.
I think we often miss the importance of what no room in the inn means, however.
No room in the inn means there was no one willing to share. There was no one willing to care enough for a pregnant woman about to give birth that they would say, "Here you can sit here and rest a while." There was no one who cared about an innocent baby being born in the filthiest place we can think of. There was no one who thought of other people. They considered only themselves.
Still today, people say no room. Supposed followers of Jesus say, "Sorry, no room." They say there is no room for the homeless. There is no room for poor. There is no room for the immigrant. There is no room for LGBT population. There is no room for those who are different than they are.
Oh, there is room, however, for mountains of gifts. There is room for their own loved ones around the Christmas tree where they can spend hours opening presents. People see their own children enjoying their new toys, the latest electronics, and wearing the best new clothes. Why worry about the ones for whom there is no room? It's easier to put it out their mind and enjoy what Christmas is all about. After all, they are celebrating the birth of Jesus.
I have been thinking about this concept a lot, actually. I remember several years ago, we had an ice storm in our city. My husband, young sons, and I lost power in our house for two weeks. No one who we knew well, including family that still had power, offered to allow us to stay. It was the Red Cross that put us in a hotel room because our then four-year old was taking breathing treatments for cold-induced asthma. We stayed in our house over a week with no heat in the middle of the winter. We spent a lot of time at the library and walking around Walmart. Until you have your two-year old want his hands kissed because they hurt from the cold, you do not know what sadness is.
This often bothers me this time of year because it happened right before Christmas. The same people who rejected then wanted to celebrate Christmas with us. I couldn't do it. I still can't.
I stand up for the rights of others because I know what it is like to be oppressed. I know what it is like to be rejected. I know what it is like to be hurt.
Jesus' birth is not about privilege. It is not about how long we can spend unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. It is not even about family gathered around a Christmas tree. It is about the helping the oppressed, being there for those who know what it is like for there to be no room for them.
I think we often miss the importance of what no room in the inn means, however.
No room in the inn means there was no one willing to share. There was no one willing to care enough for a pregnant woman about to give birth that they would say, "Here you can sit here and rest a while." There was no one who cared about an innocent baby being born in the filthiest place we can think of. There was no one who thought of other people. They considered only themselves.
Still today, people say no room. Supposed followers of Jesus say, "Sorry, no room." They say there is no room for the homeless. There is no room for poor. There is no room for the immigrant. There is no room for LGBT population. There is no room for those who are different than they are.
Oh, there is room, however, for mountains of gifts. There is room for their own loved ones around the Christmas tree where they can spend hours opening presents. People see their own children enjoying their new toys, the latest electronics, and wearing the best new clothes. Why worry about the ones for whom there is no room? It's easier to put it out their mind and enjoy what Christmas is all about. After all, they are celebrating the birth of Jesus.
I have been thinking about this concept a lot, actually. I remember several years ago, we had an ice storm in our city. My husband, young sons, and I lost power in our house for two weeks. No one who we knew well, including family that still had power, offered to allow us to stay. It was the Red Cross that put us in a hotel room because our then four-year old was taking breathing treatments for cold-induced asthma. We stayed in our house over a week with no heat in the middle of the winter. We spent a lot of time at the library and walking around Walmart. Until you have your two-year old want his hands kissed because they hurt from the cold, you do not know what sadness is.
This often bothers me this time of year because it happened right before Christmas. The same people who rejected then wanted to celebrate Christmas with us. I couldn't do it. I still can't.
I stand up for the rights of others because I know what it is like to be oppressed. I know what it is like to be rejected. I know what it is like to be hurt.
Jesus' birth is not about privilege. It is not about how long we can spend unwrapping presents on Christmas morning. It is not even about family gathered around a Christmas tree. It is about the helping the oppressed, being there for those who know what it is like for there to be no room for them.
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