I have written the following story for my column in the local paper this week. The readers of that small-town weekly might miss half the subtleties but I hope it inspires someone. I thought I’d offer it here for a wider readership. It’s a bit longer than usual – 1200 words. Of course, the innkeeper does not appear in the Bible – he is a delightful construct of modern storytellers. Actually, ancient world inns were often run by women – widows, etc – and not always reputable eg Rahab- but I stayed with the tradition.

~~~

The Innkeeper’s Story

By Geoff Leslie, December 06

I cannot forget the wild-eyed panic of those women running down our road to get out of Bethlehem clutching babies with desperate arms. An ugly band of soldiers had arrived in the town and were spreading through the streets kicking in doors, dragging out babies to hack them to death, deaf to screams of man and woman. O when will Israel ever be free of Rome and its butcher puppet king Herod! I tried to help some of the women, of course, and I take some pride in the knowledge that I saved three young boys through my efforts.

I had no room in the inn – every room and bed had been full since the start of the census season seven or eight months earlier – people coming from the Galilee farmlands down to Bethlehem to register so that the great Empire can maximise its taxes – all former residents they were, compelled to return by Caesar’s decree. They would come for a couple of weeks usually, long enough to complete the paperwork and re-stock for the long journey home. And there has been a bustle of family reunions going on.

Sorry – I was going to tell you about the ones I saved.

I hear the shouting and struggling up the Western end of the town and then I see a few people with babies running all directions – like goats chased by wolves.

“What’s goin’ on?”, I call out and they tell me the soldiers have turned up with orders to kill the baby boys. Now we’ve heard many stories of Herod’s brutality – mostly palace intrigues and imagined plots – but this is the first encounter our quiet country town has had with it.

“Are they just taking the boy babies?” I ask and one woman blubbers as she relates how she saw her neighbour’s little fellow slain in front of his hysterical sisters.

They’re all confused and can’t think clearly but I have a suggestion. There ‘s a little hideaway place I’ve been using a bit lately and I help the first two ladies to hide in there. It’s where the animals are stalled on the cold nights, but we don’t keep so many nowadays and we can put them elsewhere.

I whisked these ladies in there – I told them the manger with fresh hay makes a fine cradle – it’s been used for that very purpose only just recently! Later on I bring in another fellow with his frightened little wife. They laid low and I kept them hidden for about three days. When the coast was clear, the soldiers had moved on, they crept back to their houses.

It’s all been mighty strange. We expected an increase in custom once the ‘return-to-your-town-of-origin census’ was announced. Bethlehem was a big town years ago, but it’s not much more than a village these days. We have a great heritage you know – King David was born here 900 years back and that’s made us famous. But this rocky hill-country has broken many a farmer’s heart and you can’t blame them for moving the family north to the soft plains of Galilee.

Anyway the trade starts to pick up as the census gets under way and soon accommodation is hard to find in the town. One afternoon a few months ago – December, I think – there’s a knock on the door and I start off on my ‘sorry, no room’ routine but this fellow puts up a pitiful story about his wife being about to give birth and was I sure there was no way I could help.

So that’s when I first thought about this animal stall – built out of earth and thatch by my grandfather back when we used to breed oxen for the ploughing trade – that fell away when the farming game hit a downturn with all the good operators migrating to Galilee. So I call the wife and we go and tidy it up a bit, then I send her off to get the village midwife.

I wouldn’t have done that once – I reckon I’ve changed with all these goings-on. Got all soft-hearted and generous. It’s as if you open your heart once to someone in need and you see that it doesn’t do you any harm and suddenly you seem to see people who need help everywhere.

Where was I? O yes, the midwife came and after dark we hear that the lady has had a little boy, so we go and congratulate them, and bring them some leftover soup and bread. My wife has the bright idea of using the manger for the baby to lie in which we all think is an excellent makeshift invention.

We just get back to bed and there’s some other people poking around out the front. I open the door and there’s a bunch of shepherd boys from the hills come into town, saying they need to find a baby who is using a manger for its cradle. How on earth did they hear about that, I ask them and their answer made no sense to me, but I showed them the way to the stall.

Well, we got the family into a room in the inn eventually but the baby seems quite famous. Apparently the shepherds had told everyone about my wife’s manger idea, but even when he was in the cot in the inn he attracted a lot of attention.

And then these strangers arrived on camels. They wanted to see him too. Eastern gentlemen they were from somewhere hundreds of miles away. They said they’d come because of “an auspicious birth of a great king revealed in the conjunction of abnormal astral portents”. (I memorised that line hoping it would mean something one day but it has me beat!). They were rich and hung around a few days, lavishing gifts on the child and interrogating his parents.

Then suddenly, about a fortnight after they left, Joseph comes rushing out with everything packed and said goodbye, they have to go – Egypt I think he said. It was all kind of sudden-like but he only just got out of town the day before these soldiers came – talk about lucky! Would have been a terrible shame if that poor little fellow got caught up in all this killing and terror.

There’s really not much we can do about this outrageous government. We just pray and hope someone will come who can change it all one day. Maybe our little baby ‘king’ – he certainly changed me somehow. But what can he ever do? If he ever gets into politics when he grows up he’ll just get into the system and become like all the rest, and if he tries to change things from outside the government well, they’ll probably just kill him and what good would that do? Still there is a strong belief around here that, this being Bethlehem, and what with that business with the shepherds and the Eastern gentlemen, God may be starting something now, beginning to stir the pot, getting us ready for a change. I feel different anyhow!

I have to go, there’s a knock on the door. Who is it this time? Looks like a Samaritan. I never let them stay here once, but . well. they’re people too. Strike, his friend doesn’t look very well. Must have been beaten up by robbers. I’ve got some work to do!.