Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday December 7, 2024 – Advent 2
Scripture: Luke 2:1-7
This is the second
week of a 4-week (plus Christmas Eve) story-telling series. Different people
who are part of the nativity scene tell the story of how they ended up at the
manger.
You asked me how I came to be at the manger. I didn’t have to journey to get here, because I was already here! I am here because of family.
I am not named in your holy book. I went looking for my name earlier, and I saw that many of the details of the story of the birth were missing, and some of the details have even been changed! Most copies of your books say that there was no room at the inn for the young mother and father; but some of them are starting to correct that mistake and they say that there was no space in the guestroom for them.
My name is Abigail bat Yakob, of the tribe of Judah. My family lives in Bethlehem, the city of David, and I am one of the many descendants of that king.
When the emperor, off in Rome, announced that a census would be taken, and that people would have to return to their family’s homeland to be counted, well, there was an uproar in Bethlehem. So many descendants of David, who had been scattered all over the country for generation upon generation, would now be traveling here to be counted. All because some absentee king wanted to keep his tax books up-to-date.
The census was to take place over the course of two weeks, but people started arriving in our town weeks before that! Every couple of days, we would hear a knock at our door, and standing there would be a family of cousins, wondering if they could stay for a couple of nights until they could be counted, then they would leave to begin their return journey.
Our house isn’t very big, but family is family so we would always make space for one more sleeping mat to be rolled out, until there just wasn’t any more space to be had.
Joseph was a distant cousin – I’m told that I met him a couple of times when we were children, but I don’t remember meeting him. He and his bride, Mary, arrived late in the day, a couple of days after the census had started. The streets were so crowded those days that it was difficult to move, and the lineups stretched around the square and down the street from where the census was being taken. Even people who had arrived in time for the first day were still waiting to be counted.
Which meant that our house was already beyond capacity when they showed up. I tried telling them that there was no space, but Joseph said that they had already checked with all of their other family members in Bethlehem, and there was no space anywhere to be found. I heard the desperation in his voice, and then I noticed that Mary was carrying a child in her womb, and even more than that, she was so close to her time to deliver that I couldn’t turn them back out on the streets.
I explained to Joseph that there wasn’t any space left in the living area for them, sleeping mats were covering every surface, and even overlapping one another, but, I said, we can probably make some space on the lower level, down where the animals stay safely at night. It would be dark as there were no windows on that level, and it might be a bit smelly, but it would be safe and it would be warm, and we could bring in some extra hay to make Mary’s bed a bit more comfortable.
I could see Joseph’s agitation settling down as I spoke, and when I looked over at Mary, she smiled at me, and then gently thanked me for my hospitality. It wasn’t much that I could do for them, but I had 4 children of my own, and I could imagine myself into her shoes.
Well, wouldn’t you know, it was just that night that Mary’s birth pains began. They had been traveling for several weeks from Nazareth to Bethlehem, on foot the whole way. God-whose-name-is-holy must have been with them along the way, because, well, can you imagine what might have happened if the birth pains began while they were still traveling?
Like I said, I have 4 little ones of my own, so I told Mary that I would go and fetch the midwife. Rebekah is a good woman and knows her business. Mary would be in good hands.
Joseph looked even more pale than Mary though! He had never experienced the birth of a child before, and I was worried that he was going to faint before the midwife arrived!
What can I say about that night? A birth is a birth is a birth. There was nothing that marked it as particularly special, at least not at first. I was in and out of our makeshift birthing room, fetching water and clean scraps of cloth as Rebekah required them. Joseph was pacing outside, like any devoted first-time father. Mary lay in the hay, occasionally moaning as the pain washed over her.
But then at the end of the night, she had delivered her baby, a healthy boy. Rebekah delivered the afterbirth, and cleaned off the baby, and wrapped him tightly in a cloth, and handed him back to Mary. Joseph was finally admitted back into the room to meet his son, and I stepped back. I put some fresh straw in the manger, the stone trough where the animals feed, so that the baby would have a soft and safe place to sleep. And then I slipped out of the room and left the new family alone with the love for a new baby filling the air.
I am here, standing by the manger that is also a cradle, because of love for my family. Love is more than just the feeling that you have when you are around people – love is how we act on it. I love my family, and I couldn’t see them turned out into the street in this time of need. And now witnessing the love that they have for one another makes me glad that I was able to help in this way.
What about you? Why are you journeying to the manger this year?
There was no space in the “kataluma” for Mary and Joseph –
yet Jesus was still born surrounded by family, and love,
and hospitality.
Image Credit: "Lego Nativity Scene" by On Being on flickr
