In Defense of the Innkeeper

Every time I hear the Nativity story, I wonder about the innkeeper. There wasn’t room. I certainly don’t believe he was lying. I tend to think he was having a stressful night, knowing the “tax rush” was upon him. I’m sure he was pleased to see the revenue he did, knowing that it would help him feed his family, maybe buy his wife something nice. He was probably tired and weary of turning away travelers; Mary and Joseph were surely not the only ones who got there too late.
I wonder what he thought when he saw the unfortunate couple at his gate. It would be unfair to assume he had any inkling who these two were or Who would be born that night. He probably just saw a young couple that he couldn’t possibly accommodate. The woman was pregnant, very pregnant I imagine. He certainly couldn’t turn them away. To his credit, I believe, he found a place for them. Not an ideal place, but the only place he had.
What was he to do? No room. Honestly, no room. He couldn’t displace his own family and, with what limited understanding I have of the cultural context he found himself in, he couldn’t leave them alone with the strangers gathered in his inn. Order had to maintained, I can appreciate that. And I tend to think that if room could possibly be made he would have done so.
Dramatic portrayals of the innkeeper show his as an impatient man who heartlessly turns his back on the mother of the Savior. But I like to think he did all he could to help them. I hope he sent an employee to tend to the young mother. I hope he prayed for their safety. And I hope he visited in the morning to make sure all was well. He would have had quite a surprise.
Maybe I’ll write a play about him someday. About the difficult choices we’re faced with and the lose-lose situations the Savior came into the world to remedy. About the miracle that took place that night and this sad, misunderstood man’s part in the great drama of Christmas.