The Nativity In The Living Room

Do you have a crèche or nativity scene somewhere in your home this Advent? In the Newcomer house, we have manger scenes in several rooms to celebrate Jesus’ birth.

On Christmas Eve of 1984, my father preached a sermon at Paoli United Methodist Church that challenged the traditional picture of Christ’s lowly birth in a stable. It turns out that if you place a manger scene in your living room, you may be closer to the truth than you might think:

“The story of the first Christmas is fraught with so much tradition that sometimes it is difficult, if not impossible, to separate what we actually know from the Scriptures about the event, from what has been added over the years by the collective imagination of believers in order to fill in the missing pieces. Christmas pageants over the years have conditioned us to imagine Mary and Joseph arriving late in Bethlehem, perhaps her labor pains already beginning. We've seen countless pictures of Joseph knocking on the door of the crowded inn, and we've heard all kinds of condemnations heaped on the innkeeper for not finding them a room. But all of this is supposition; none of it is in the Scripture itself. The text from the Second Chapter of Luke actually reads this way: “And while they were there the days were accomplished when she was to be delivered.” It really sounds as though Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem days ahead of Jesus’ birth.

The tradition about Jesus being born in a stable also may not fit the facts. In Luke, we read these precious words: “Mary gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” We have always supposed that a stable was his birthplace because they were turned away from the inn, and when he was born they laid him in a manger, a feeding trough for domestic animals. Where else would a manger be than in a stable?

Actually, there is another explanation. The Greek word kataluma – which is translated as “inn” – really means “guest room,” not “inn.” In the parable of the Good Samaritan, when the Samaritan takes the wounded traveler to an inn to recuperate, Luke uses an entirely different Greek word for inn. In Luke’s account of the preparations for the Last Supper, Jesus tells his disciples to find a “guest room” for the Passover meal. Here, the word is kataluma – the same word used in Luke 2’s story of Jesus’ birth. In short, a better translation of Luke’s account might go something like this: “She gave birth to her firstborn son and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the guest room.” Since Bethlehem was Joseph’s ancestral town, one might suppose that he had relatives there with whom they were supposed to stay, but by the time they arrived, the guest room was already full of kin-folk because of the census, so Mary and Joseph had to stay in the main part of the house – the living room, so to speak. But what about the manger? This doesn't explain the manger.

It is important to understand how a First Century Jewish house was arranged. It was usually one large room, and if the family could afford it, a kataluma, or guest room, was attached because of the Jewish emphasis on hospitality to strangers. The main room of the house was itself divided into two parts. The back part was a platform raised about one or two feet above ground level. Here, the family lived, cooked, ate and slept. The lower, front part of the main room was at ground level, and into this area the livestock was often brought to spend cold nights with the family. Naturally, a manger was there with fresh straw for the animals, and often it doubled as a cradle for the babies.

Is Luke telling us that when Mary and Joseph arrived at the house where they planned to stay, the guest room was already full, and so they had to stay in the main room of the house with all the family and the animals, and there the newborn child was laid in a manger?

Of course, there is much supposition in this theory, but if it is true it makes an important point. Luke seems to want us to know that Jesus – the Son of God – was born, not off in the guest room, but right in the midst of smelly hay, snorting animals, anxious onlookers, and the tenderness and love of the family circle. Jesus, our Savior, was born like all of the other children of that day. He was tenderly placed precisely where all other babies of that day were cradled.

If we experience the birth of Christ this Christmas, it will not be in the guest rooms of our lives – not off to the side in those special compartments of our lives that we've reserved for him – but right in the middle of it all, right in the middle of everyday living. … Jesus was born where we work and live and love and where we hurt. He is Emmanuel, God with us. … He goes to any lengths to meet us in the real stuff of life. … He is always where we are, concerned about what’s going on now in our lives. His salvation is not an other-worldly experience; it is for the here and now. God’s favorite place is the commonplace.”

Merry Christmas, my friends!

From: "The Nativity in the Living Room"

Scripture: Luke 2:1-7

Preached at Paoli UM Church

December 24, 1984