Acting as Innkeeper: Making Room for Jesus and Others
“Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40).
I was alone last Christmas. In the days leading up to the holiday, a deadline for my job was extended, and I found out I could no longer visit family for Christmas. I went to midnight Mass, curled up to a short film about Jesus’s birth, and cried for the first time in years.
The tears were a mixed batch. Part of me longed for community—longed for family and matching pajamas and dancing in front of the Christmas tree. But the other part of me—the larger part of me—felt raw from the gravity of the incarnation. For a brief moment, I understood the weight of Christ’s becoming human—and an innocent, vulnerable baby at that.
We are told every year to prepare our hearts for the birth of Christ. Yet, it took silence and an anticlimactic holiday for me to realize just how significant it is that God became flesh.
I’ve sat with this spiritual epiphany for the past year, trying where I could to incorporate silence and rest into my days in the hope that God would break into my stubborn, cold heart.
While preparing this year for Christmas, my mind has fixated on the innkeeper who famously told Mary and Joseph there was no room at the inn (or the relative who told them there was no room in the guest house). There are many things we can glean from this Gospel, but I’ve focused on two: what the innkeeper didn’t do and what he (potentially) did do.
Making Room When It Seems Impossible
The innkeeper (or relative) is commonly used as an archetype for people who cannot inconvenience themselves to make room for Jesus in their life. This image of the innkeeper suggests that he had no problem-solving capabilities. The host didn’t poll other guests to see if others would leave, check with other friends to see if there was more room elsewhere, or—importantly—remove himself to make room for the family in need.
Every day, we, too, are innkeepers, each of us tasked with deciding whether we have room for Jesus and how we are going to make room, even if it doesn’t seem like there is a way. Making room for Jesus in our work day can look like carving out time to pray before beginning the day, offering up daily tasks, giving full effort and attention to what is in front of us, or being generous with our gifts.
Again and again, Joseph and Mary present themselves at the door of our hearts, asking if the Savior can be born within us. We have the ability to shuffle around a few items and rearrange plans to make the appropriate space for the King and His family—or we can choose not to sacrifice, choose not to be inconvenienced, and push the Holy Family aside to find rest elsewhere.
Giving With Whatever You Have
The innkeeper’s story doesn’t have to stop there. We know little about the days leading up to Jesus’ birth. Christmas plays often fabricate details of Mary and Joseph’s search, with innkeepers slamming doors and crowds ignoring a distressed woman in labor. Yet, Luke’s Gospel mentions having “no room at the inn” as a side detail.
A different story emerges when the crusty innkeeper image falls to the wayside. Imagine this: The inn (or guest house) is full due to Caesar’s census, and Mary and Joseph need a private place for the birth. The innkeeper—who has built his career on hospitality—does everything in his power to accommodate the desperate couple. He offers the pair his stable and runs and grabs fresh clothes, water, food, and blankets. What if he did what he could, given the limitations of the moment?
This alternative story illustrates how our generosity toward God and others—and even our work, no matter how small or humble—can transform into something greater. It underscores how we don’t have to be put together and perfect to serve God or serve others; we simply can show up and give, and grace can abound.
So, invite your friend who has rocky relations with her family to your Christmas gathering, even if it means toys are scattered everywhere and your child might scream the entire time. Offer to take on an aspect of a project you normally wouldn’t, even if it means you might need help along the way. Say a decade of the rosary in the car on the way to work, because it's the only place you find silence. Whatever the balance, God can transform our small acts into revolutionary love.
The Commission of the Innkeeper
The radical silence of last year's Christmas let me learn from what the innkeeper didn’t do and cultivate a practice of making room for Jesus in my daily life. This year, I am also focused on thinking about what the innkeeper may have done by inviting Jesus, and others, into my life in any capacity I can.
This story of the innkeeper teaches us how hospitality can be an avenue for us to come out of ourselves. This Christmas season, how can you be the innkeeper for the Lord and for others?
Marissa Vonesh works as the lead graphic designer for Moment magazine in Washington, D.C. A native to Northern Arizona and adventure junkie, she is no stranger to hiking, spontaneous road trips, and midnight adoration sessions. Visit her work at marissavonesh.com, or connect with her on Instagram.