We arrived at the town of Bethlehem at four o’clock of the fifth day. As it was at the time of the winter solstice, the sun was already sinking and the night was falling. We were so happy when we saw the walls of the town, but unfortunately, our happiness would be short lived.
Bethlehem was more crowded than Jerusalem during Passover. There were people everywhere. I could hear the sound of donkeys competing with the noise made by the camels. There were children running through the streets, screaming to each other, while the parents chased them trying to keep them under control. The smell of animal was mixed with the smell of food and sweat. It was chaotic. People were shouting at each other, and we even saw a couple of men pushing each other.
We wandered through many streets in search of a lodging-house or an inn to stay for the night. We knocked at the doors of acquaintances and some of Joseph’s family relatives; but we were admitted nowhere. We just kept listening to the same words: “There is no room in the inn.” The people of Israel are usually hospitable, and they make room for anyone. But not this time. In many places, we were even met with harsh words and insults. The crowd, the noise, and the unfairness of the decree had brought the worst in everyone. I had never seen anything like it.
I followed Joseph, while sitting on top of the donkey, through the crowds of people. He went from house to house and from door to door. It looked like on this night, the hearts and the houses of men were to be closed to us. While wandering through the streets, we passed the office of the public registry which was still open. There was a crowd of people, but we waited patiently, and we inscribed our names and paid the fiscal tribute in order to comply with the edict and not be obliged to return. We continued our search, knocking at the door of all the inns in town. We must have tried at more than fifty different places, but we found ourselves rejected and sent away from them all, with the same phrase: “There is no room in the inn.”
I was exhausted, but I did not want to cause further worry to Joseph. I could not wait to get off the donkey to sit down somewhere, anywhere, and just rest. All the noise and the smells were making me dizzy. A man must have noticed that I did not look well because he came towards me with a jar filled with water and he offered me a drink. I will never forget how fresh that water felt on my throat nor the smile in his bearded face. Joseph tried to give him a coin, but he did not accept it. I knew that my grateful smile meant more to him than a single denarius.
He told Joseph that there was a cave outside of town where we could find a warm shelter for the night. “It won’t be clean and it won’t smell good since shepherds use it to shelter their flock, but at least it will be quiet and it will be warm,” he said. He gave us directions on how to find it, and we headed there. As we made our way in the shadows of the night, I felt that every bone in my body was in pain. It’s as if I was carrying the weight of the world with me. And yet, at the same time, I felt the peace and love of the baby within me giving me hope and comfort.
As we left the village, the outskirts of town were deserted. I was afraid, I must confess, even though the peace emanating from within surrounded me. I felt small and insignificant when Joseph helped me to climb down from the donkey. He hugged me with compassion and love. “We will be fine, Mary.”
We found the neglected cavern. It was formed entirely of bare and coarse rocks, without any natural beauty or artificial adornment; a place intended merely for the shelter of animals. It was inside a mountain that overlooked a peaceful valley. We went inside, and Joseph cleaned the cave, which was filled with animal excrement, as best he could. He prepared a place for me within the hay. He went back outside and brought the blankets we had packed, and lay them over the hay. I looked around me, and said a silent prayer to God: “Is this the place that You have chosen for your Son to be born?” I had not mentioned it to Joseph, but I had been feeling mild contractions for the past few hours.
I was so exhausted that I just laid down on top of the blanket, while Joseph went to find wood to light a fire. At that moment, I did not care about the spiderwebs that I could see above me nor the little insects that were rapidly scurrying to hide among the hay. I closed my eyes, and said a silent prayer: “Lord, let me go gladly wherever You shall guide me. If this is the place that You have selected for the shelter and dwelling-place of Your own Son, please bless it, cleanse it and fill it with holy fragrance.“ And just like that, I dozed off for the night.
Reflection:
Bethlehem was filled with people, and yet, Mary and Joseph found the hearts and the houses of men closed to them. “There is no room in the inn,” was the phrase that they kept hearing. On this Christmas Eve, the malls are filled with people, and yet, many hearts have forgotten the reason for the season. Is my heart open to Jesus or have I gotten lost in the hustle and bustle of the preparations? Is there room in my inn to welcome Jesus this Christmas? Or am I going to keep my heart closed and send Him away because there is no room in my inn for Him?
Copyright © 2019 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.
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