Nativity: No Room
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Though he was very rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty he could make you rich. 2 Corinthians 8.9 Dear Lord Jesus, You displayed ultimate humility by leaving the glory of heaven to dwell among us. Although all power, glory, and praise was due to You, You humbled Yourself and died on a cross so that we might experience freedom.

and the riches of your glorious grace. During this Christmas season, when gifts and glamour are on full display, inspire us to walk in humility. May we model your mindset of unconditional love, sacrifice, and lowliness for the sake of others. When pride seeks to grip our hearts and drag us down, correct us with your Spirit and push us forward toward righteousness.

We pray these things in Jesus' name. Amen. Thank you for praying with me today. Stay tuned now for another episode of Stories of the Messiah with Rabbi Schneider.

With each step, a new sensation grew within Mary, a tightening, a quickening that told her time was of the essence.

"Joseph..." she whispered, her voice catching with both wonder and fear. "He's coming." Joseph's face lost its color. His gaze met hers. "We're almost there." He gripped the reins of the donkey and led them down the final switchbacks leading down to the city gates. Campsides laced the vacant area surrounding the city. The census had uprooted everyone.

Roman soldiers marched in and out of the gates in groups of 10 to 20. It seemed like they were searching for something or someone. Their presence made Joseph nervous. Hello and shalom. Welcome to another episode of the Stories of the Messiah podcast. I'm your host, Rabbi Schneider, with Discovering the Jewish Jesus. It's Christmas Eve, and our Nativity story is ramping up to the glorious arrival of Christ.

Mary and Joseph have endured ridicule, robbery, and storms to arrive at Bethlehem. Now, just as the city comes into view, Mary is experiencing the pangs of childbirth. Joseph and Mary require some hospitality. Will they find it? This episode will explore themes of hospitality and compassion for those in need. Mary and Joseph are vulnerable and at the mercy of the people around them. If they don't find shelter soon, Mary will have to give birth on the streets.

Hospitality and compassion reflect the character of Christ. Our faith is shown in how we treat people who are vulnerable and in need. The Nativity story illustrates that God's providence will always come through even when we feel lost and without help. His providence doesn't always look like parted seas or fire from heaven. Sometimes it's a small act of generosity from a stranger. Let's dive into this dramatic retelling of Luke 2.

Afterward, we'll come together to unpack these timeless Christmas themes.

The streets of Bethlehem were a chaotic smattering of voices, noises, and scents. The city was alive everywhere they looked, with travelers and traders gathered for the census. It became apparent that finding a quiet space in the city would be a nearly impossible task. Mary winced in pain, her breaths becoming more labored. "Joseph, we need to find somewhere to rest. I think he's coming soon."

I have distant relatives here, Joseph said, trying to hold back his panic. This way! They quickened their pace towards the group of homes tucked away on the city's outskirts. A vast and open pasture was behind the property, the very same hills where David once strummed his harp beside his grazing sheep. Joseph knocked on the door. Jephthah! he said frantically. It's Joseph!

Please, open the door. An older portly man opened the door. Behind him were dozens of Joseph's distant relatives from far and wide. Joseph, he said with a furrowed brow. I was wondering if I'd see you here.

There's no room for you. Jephthah, please. My wife, she is with child. I know your wife is pregnant, Joseph. We all know. The man sneered. We all heard about the woman you married. It's a disgrace to your father, my cousin. I won't condone it by letting you remain here another minute. With those final insults, he slammed the door in Joseph's face.

Joseph paused for a long while, words of anger and frustration dangling on his lips. He looked back at Mary. She was in pain, straining for each breath. They needed a safe place, now. Time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. Mary's contractions grew more insistent, her pain a constant reminder of their urgent need.

Joseph, driven by a blend of fear and determination, knocked on door after door. "Can anybody help us?" he shouted. "Please! My wife is in labor!" His pleas were met with nothing but awkward apologies or cold rejections. The night grew darker, and their hope waned. A flickering candle in the relentless wind.

But then, as if guided by a hand unseen, they found themselves before an inn, its warm glow a beacon in the dark night. Joseph urgently picked Mary up and hurried down the lane to the inn. "Please help us! Someone, please! We beg for mercy!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. Joseph's forehead met the heavy wooden door of the inn with a thud,

all the while keeping Mary secure in his embrace. No response came. Laughter and the clinking of glasses echoed from within. He raised his voice, bellowing, "Please! Anyone!" Silence was the only reply. With Mary tenderly held in his arms, Joseph reeled back and delivered a powerful kick to the door. It burst open, yet still failed to catch the attention of anyone inside.

Only then did he understand why his call had gone unanswered. The inn was overflowing with patrons, so packed that there was hardly room to move, let alone notice a cry from outside. Joseph's eyes found the innkeeper busy clearing cups in a corner. "Innkeeper! Innkeeper!" he yelled, finally catching his attention. The innkeeper was a disheveled man, his grey hair unkempt, his round face flushed from the heat.

We're filled to capacity, sir, as you can plainly see. His voice trailed off as his eyes met the tear-streaked face of the pregnant Mary. Show compassion upon us. Mary exhaled. My baby.

The baby is coming soon. The innkeeper's face creased with worry as he ran his fingers through his beard. My own room is taken. Even my wife and I have nowhere to lay our own heads now, you see. His voice filled with sorrow. I wish I had more to offer, but we have no space. Certainly not a proper place for your particular needs. His eyes flickered down the hill behind the inn.

But there might be a spot I can show you.

Hurry, follow me. Joseph helped Mary onto the donkey and they found the innkeeper down a narrow twisting path to a cave-like enclosure in the hillside where the animals were kept. The sun was sinking and Mary's agony intensified. The innkeeper hung a lantern, casting a soft glow over the stable. Mary's cries grew louder, her pain more acute, the birth drawing near.

"I regret that this is all I can provide," the innkeeper said, his voice low. Joseph simply nodded his thanks, his focus solely on Mary. Mary looked around. After the journey she had just endured, she was about to give birth in a stable carved from a hill. This was the stage for a moment of divine significance.

Amidst the hay and the gentle lowing of animals, Mary prepared herself. In the cool evening air, she whispered softly to the Lord, "I am your servant." In that moment, the veil between the worldly and the divine was paper thin. Outside, the world continued its restless dance, but time seemed to pause within the stables' walls.

Above the stable, unnoticed by the city's throng, a star shone with a brilliance that seemed to pierce the very fabric of the night. Its light, a herald of a new era, cast a gentle glow over the stable where the child of promise was about to be born. Joseph and Mary's journey to Bethlehem was filled with obstacles. You would think that arriving in Bethlehem would be the easiest part.

But just as they reached their destination, tension rose. Doors were shut in their faces around every corner. Even Joseph's family rejected him. There is a theological precedent for including Joseph's family in this story. Luke 2 tells us simply that there was no room in the inn. But that could be taken to mean several things. Some scholars believe it was an all-encompassing term. They were refused hospitality.

In Christ's day, hospitality to visitors among the Jews was essential, based on biblical examples in the law. In Deuteronomy 10:19, God told the Israelites to love the stranger. And Leviticus 19:33 states, "If a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall not mistreat him." Denial of hospitality was shown throughout Scripture as an outrage, unless it was established as a sign of disowning that family member.

Even from the very start of his life, Jesus had nowhere to lay his head. This situation was not by chance, but rather a symbolic representation of his complete identification with the oppressed, vulnerable, rejected, underprivileged, and poor. When God took human form, he sought none of the worldly comforts, luxuries, and protections many hold dear.

God knew that throughout time, lonely and homeless people from all corners of the globe would gaze at the stars shivering in the cold and cry, "God, you can't possibly understand what I'm experiencing." To this, Jesus could respond with truth and compassion, "Actually, I know exactly what you're enduring." The rejection by the people of Bethlehem serves as a painful reminder that judgment and scorn can cause us to close our doors to those in desperate need. May we never fall into that same trap.

Hebrews 13:2 tells us not to forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some have unwittingly hosted angels. God is at work in the margins of compassion and generosity. There is no way to predict the ripple effects of their kindness. For Mary and Joseph, the act of kindness is all they needed to usher in the Son of God. The compassionate innkeeper shines a light on the loving character of Christ.

Though he had no room, he did what he could to provide a place for the Savior to be born. His actions reflect Christ's teaching in Matthew 25, verse 35 through 40, where Jesus says, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Despite their dire circumstances, God's hand was evident throughout their journey. The stable, humble though it was, became a holy place. Here, Jesus Christ, the King of kings, was born in simplicity and humility.

Tomorrow is Christmas, and no doubt many of you will reflect on why Jesus came in the way he did. Why was he born in a stable? Why was he born into a family with little resources and status? It's simple. God chose the path of humility so we may have hope in any circumstance. We do not have a God that doesn't sympathize with our struggles and needs. As it says in Hebrews 4.15,

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Jesus knew what it was like to come from nothing, suffer and work. Some of you may feel alone, rejected and misunderstood like Mary and Joseph. Know that Jesus understands you, loves you, and has provided a place for you to call home, the kingdom of God.

Join us in our next episode as we behold the glory of Christ's birth. In the most humble of circumstances, the Son of God will be born. I'm excited to unwrap the glorious gift of Christmas with you. If you want more resources on Jesus and the Old Testament, visit us at discoveringthejewishjesus.com. Another resource you might find very impactful is my new book, Messianic Prophecy Revealed, Seeing Messiah in the Pages of the Hebrew Bible, which can be found on my website.

If you enjoyed today's podcast, give us a review and share it with a friend. We want the story of the Bible and the hope of Jesus to spread worldwide. To make prayer a priority and hear more stories to inspire hope, visit Pray.com.