Not A Stable

The Daily Lectionary readings have not inspired me much lately, and I would rather not push the river.

I ran across some fascinating information the other day in an article in the Guardian about a mistranslation in the New Testament which led to the notion that Jesus was born in a stable. That is not remotely likely, apparently. The word translated as “inn” is the same word—katalyma— that is used in Mark 14:14 in which Jesus told the disciples to follow a man and tell him that the Rabbi says, ‘Where is the guest room for me, where I am to eat the Pesach meal with my talmidim?’

The article informed me that in first century Jewish homes (at least the affluent ones) there was an upper room that functioned as a guest room. It was a room set aside for the purpose of providing hospitality, and for putting up guests and traveling family members.

The design of first century Palestinian homes (and modern ones as well) supports this idea: “Most families would live in a single-room house, with a lower compartment for animals to be brought in at night, and either a room at the back for visitors, or space on the roof. The family living area would usually have hollows in the ground, filled with straw, in the living area, where the animals would feed.” (link to article) This is not a new interpretation: a scholar in 1584 got turned over to the Inquisition for suggesting it.

After all, Joseph was returning to his hometown for the census. Stands to reason that he would have family there. I was tickled to find that my current favorite Bible translation (The Complete Jewish Bible) supports this translation:  Luke 2:7 ^7 “and she gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped him in cloth and laid him down in a feeding trough, because there was no space for them in the living-quarters.”

So, some other members of Joseph’s family were probably occupying the guest quarters upstairs (or on the roof) and Joseph and Mary had to make do with mattresses on the floor in the main living area with the resident family. So, Jesus would have been born surrounded by family, in a crowded but congenial place, and laid in a manger because it was handy— right there in the room with them.

They weren’t turned away by some fat, heartless innkeeper. They didn’t have to sneak around back to the inn stable and evict some cow from its byre, or stumble through the dark to some rowdy caravanserai full of drunken herdsmen and traders.

No, Mary would have been surrounded by Joseph’s uncles, aunts, and cousins; there would have been women there to help with the birthing. She would not have been cold and alone, with no-one but Joseph to help.  Jesus would have been born in a place where other children had been born, with plenty of support and celebration.

Mary and Joseph were not outcasts—

Not neglected and forlorn,

Not rejected and disrespected,

Not treated with scorn and indifference.

That changes things.

Jesus was born into a place where he belonged.

God-on-Earth was welcomed as a member of the family;

as a person who had a place in the world;

as one who merited respect and consideration;

not as one who deserved only pity:

an unfortunate, annoying inconvenience

to those with much more important things on their minds.

No, the Christ-child was born into a household where,

when it was time for his parents to leave

and go back to Nazareth, everyone said,

 “Can’t you stay for a little longer?”