lessons from the cattle stall

December 25, 2022 • Christmas Day
Scripture Readings: Luke 2:1-20 (The Inclusive Bible)
Rev. Jeff Wells

[You can view the full worship video recording at: https://fb.watch/hQ4IKj_wJk/]

We need to examine carefully the scene described in this passage. We are so accustomed to the cleaned up images of the scene at Jesus’ birth we see in Christian paintings or get offered up in made-for-TV movies and nativity sets that we can have trouble seeing this tableau for what it actually was. Perhaps the creators of these images, and even we, are ashamed that the one called the “messiah” was born into poverty and dirt.[1] Be assured, however, that the people reading the Gospel stories of Jesus’ birth, near the time they were first written and shared, would have known the truth. That stable was messy, smelly, and unsanitary. The manger – the feeding trough – would not have been clean either. The stable was not a desirable place to spend a night in the cold, let alone a safe haven to give birth. If Mary was very fortunate, perhaps there was a midwife available, or at least a woman who had given birth herself and would know what to do. Perhaps the innkeeper’s wife offered to help. The authors of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke were apparently not interested in such details or maybe considered it culturally inappropriate to write about such things. The experiences of women, including physical and emotional suffering and pain – even the pain and the joy associated with going through labor and giving birth – are largely ignored in the biblical texts. So it is important for us to look behind the surface of the story to ponder such concerns.

Let’s remember that both Mary and Joseph had visions in which they perceived messages that the child born of Mary would be great, would be called the Son of God, and would save his people. So, have you ever wondered about the incongruity of this great “savior” being born in a cattle stall? This young couple were in a stable, at least in part, because they were not well-off, they were not people of privilege. Thus, Jesus was born not in comfort or warmth, but out in the cold, next to the ox and the donkey, with limited protection from the elements and temporarily homeless. The scene makes me imagine the pregnant women among the asylum seekers and refugees from Latin American and other parts of the world arriving every day at U.S. border. Surely, some of them end up giving birth in less than ideal surroundings, under the stars or in a tent encampment under the suspicious and watchful eyes of Mexican or U.S. border control agents. Others make it to New York and other cities. They arrive with almost nothing. During the Red Door Place food pantry two weeks ago, several Venezuelan migrants showed up looking for winter coats. Some of the women and children were wearing only t-shirts, desperate for help. I am glad to tell you that Teresa was able to find coats for all of them.

Perhaps this makes the scripture lesson a bit more real for us and helps set the scene of the birth of Jesus. Now, we need to inquire about who showed up to welcome this newborn child, who later turned out to be a world-changing figure who fulfilled a very important call from God.  Next to Jesus’ parents, the first to gaze on his face were not humans, but beasts of burden – most likely a donkey and perhaps an ox. Did they bray and snort in approval when Jesus’ first cry pierced the chilly night air? How appropriate that it was the scent of these work animals and their excrement that were among the first smells Jesus inhaled. In spite of the human-centered character of most of the biblical writings, God’s care extends beyond humans to all living beings. Jesus’ mission of love, liberation, healing, and flourishing was not meant for humans alone.

If the innkeeper and his wife were not already present, when the baby began to cry, I have to believe they came from the house to see what was going on. Surely, they offered their congratulations. Mazel tov! To life! Maybe they then helped build a fire and loaned Mary and Joseph some blankets or extra garments. Perhaps neighbors or some persons staying at the inn also came out and offered some food, wine, or other provisions for the family, along with their expressions of joy and support. In a time and place where traveling could be arduous and dangerous, it was a part of the culture to offer hospitality to strangers – it still is today in the Near East.

Likely, the next to show up was the group of Shepherds, who had experienced a vision of an angel announcing good news of great joy to be shared by all people. “To you has been born a savior – the Messiah. You will find him lying in a manger.” Speaking of smells, those shepherds were undoubtedly a rough lot. I imagine them like all sheep herders or cattle herders the world over – an ancient Near Eastern version of cowboys, without the horses. They had been out in the fields, tending the sheep, with little opportunity for a proper bath. They must have been pretty rank when they showed up at the stable, mixing their own malodorousness with that of the ox and the ass. Why did God choose to inspire a group of lowly shepherds to be among the first to meet this anointed child? For that matter, why would God invite Mary to bear and raise this child? Presumably, God could have invited any woman or girl from among the Jewish elite to take on this important role. Oh sure, Mary had shown great courage, strength and trust in God. That’s why she said, “Yes” to God’s very challenging invitation. Yet, she was a poor, inexperienced girl – a nobody. This, friends, is one of the keys to understanding God. God can lure and inspire anyone, but God seems to have a clear preference for working in and through the insignificant, weak, unexpected, and marginalized – perhaps because they are more humble and open to serving God’s purposes. Moreover, God clearly takes the side of the oppressed and those with the greatest need. Think of it – God chose a poor couple, a very suspicious conception, a father willing to adopt a child not biologically his own, this is all very irregular and unlikely to succeed. Yet, God led Mary and Joseph, and later Jesus, to find a way out of no way – or at least what appeared often to be no way. This is the way God chose for one the most spectacular expressions of his incarnation, his enfleshment, in the world.

This same pattern of choosing the lowly shows up later in Jesus’ ministry. He gathered around himself a group of disciples who were not professional intellectuals, not primarily religious leaders, but common folk, people who worked with their hands, fishermen and farmers, along with a revolutionary Zealot and a tax collector thrown in for diversity and perspective.

In the Church of the Village, God leads us, also, to find ways out of no way, to gather the diversity of humanity – and increasingly some canines – and to seek to love one another and, like God, take the side of the oppressed, the poor, and the marginalized. We try to make room for the smelly, broken, hurt parts in all of us and also make room for all of the amazing gifts that each of us brings to our life together. We try to help one another to grow, be healed, find purpose, and flourish, to the fullest extent possible, in the communal spirit of Christ.

In spite of the immediate hardships and challenges ahead, in spite of the cold, the wind, the stench, Mary and Joseph must have felt ecstatic – filled with joy – at the birth of this child. Though the road forward must have appeared long and difficult, just as surely, they must have rejoiced and praised God, joining in the song of the angels, “Glory, glory to God and peace for all people and all creatures on Earth!” We too, in spite of the challenges we face, sing joy to the world, joy to the world, Jesus is come, God is with us. 

[1] Giovanni Papini, “Ox and Ass,” in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (Walden, NY: Plough Publishing House, 2001).

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