The Innkeeper

And It Came To Pass...

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed, every one into his own city.
And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered, and she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. - The Gospel, according to Luke

The innkeeper kept his head down. “No room,” he said, dispassionate and flat, not bothering to lift his eyes. He wished tax season were spread over the whole year, so he might enjoy the full benefit of this windfall of travelers. This was the seventeenth customer he’d turned away today.

“My wife is with child,” the man said, the weariness in his voice even more evident than the innkeeper’s.

The innkeeper raised his brow from his ledgers. A Jew. Nazarene, by the look of him. A bad taste came unbidden. Only last week, one of his kind had skipped out before the sun rose. Still, not as bad as the Assyrians – none were as bad as the Assyrians. He thought of the musical caravan that had recently passed through. Fishing the piano from the pool was trouble enough, the trashed rooms beyond repair. More and more these days, he longed to walk away from it all, take up something quieter. Maybe open an ice cream stand, or a bordello. Something useful. His wife, called from the back, “Who’s there?”

“A customer, looking for a room.”

“Tell him we don’t have any.”
“I did. Says his wife is with child.”
“Why didn’t you say so? I’ll pull a room from my arse.”

Crude laughter followed. “Tell him they can sleep in the stable. They’ll have to share the bathroom.” More laughter.

No doubt she could, the innkeeper thought. With an arse that big she could produce a double-wide. He looked to the man for sympathy, the unspoken bond of husbands. What can I do, his eyes asked. “My wife. As you can tell, she did not complete charm school.”

The man said nothing, too tired to honor this with a response. Pithiness was not in his toolbox.

“Did she mean what she said?” he asked.
“What? Pulling a room from her arse?”
“The other,” he said.
The innkeeper studied the man’s face. There was good in him. If he could, he’d put the man and his wife in his own bed and sleep with the animals. He’d find more comfort there. He took up a candle, raised himself from the rough hewn desk. “Follow me.”

The night was cold, colder than it ought to be, the innkeeper thought. Maybe there was something to this global cooling people spoke of, after all. He could see his breath. The stable would be warmer, the closeness of the cow and the ass would give off some heat. He attempted small talk.

“Your first?” he asked.

A strange question, the man thought. “Yes,” he said, hesitant. “I’ve not slept in a stable before.”

“I meant the child. Your first?”

The man took a moment to ponder the question. “Yes,” he answered. “And no.” A pause. “Maybe.”

The man is an idiot, thought the innkeeper. Yes, no, maybe... which was it?

“Well then, you must be excited. I would be. My wife... my wife could not give me the heavy blessing of children.”

“Uh-huh,” the man replied.

The innkeeper assessed the man again. Not only was he an idiot, but he had no heart. He could understand nervous, even a little fearful of having the responsibility of parenthood in these troubling times. But how could he not be excited, at least, a little?

The man broke. He was in torment, had been for some time, ever since the night his wife had broke the news. Months of doubt and anger spilled to the surface. “My wife will give birth,” he said. “Probably this night. But the child is not mine.”

It was the innkeeper’s turn to register incredulity. This changed everything. How could the man, any man, accept this? Why was he carting around this trollop still? He himself would have done the honorable thing. He would have found the man responsible, killed him, then the wife, and been done with it. Any court would acquit him. All he could do, was sputter. “Well then... why don’t you... whose child is it?”

The man sighed. “God’s,” he replied.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people, for unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” - The Gospel, according to Luke

Back on the Mothership, Ozekiel and Gabriella got out of costume. Their thin green bodies pulsed with relief.

“Help me, Oz. These things weigh a ton.”
Ozekiel struggled with his own, before turning to help her. Though made of finest gossamer, on their frail bodies, in this heavy atmosphere, the wings did indeed, weigh a ton. Oz tried to sneak a feel as he helped her out of her halter.

Gabriella swatted his hand. “Stop it!” she said. “I’ll bring your ass up on charges so fast, your tiny little pecker will never get hard again.”

“Geez, Gabby, I’ve only known you ten-thousand years,” he said, rubbing his hand. “It is Christmas, you know.”

“Not yet, it isn’t. Soon.” She massaged her breasts where they chafed from the bindings.

“I could help you do that.”

Gabriella spun so fast, Ozekiel didn’t know what hit him. In an instant she’d lifted him by the neck and slammed him to the floor, pinning him with the strength of righteous anger. “Those days are finished, Ozekiel. Get it through your head. Chicks rule.”

“Okay, okay,” Oz choked. Gabby eased her hand off his neck. Slipping into her work overalls, she glanced down. “Doesn’t look like it’s going very well.”

Oz waited for her to continue.

“I feel sorry for the poor bastard. Joseph’s a good guy. This is no way to start a marriage. First, I deliver the news. Now, he can’t even get a decent bed for the night. I wish there was something I could do for him.”

“Him, you want to do something for?”

Gabby turned on him. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?” she said.

“Hey, persistence and patience I got plenty of.”

“No, dummy, I’m not talking about your sniffing and whining. I mean, fooling the rubes. The sham of it all, wearing all this... this drag,” gesturing to the accessories strewn around the floor. “Zipping around the Universes, doing the Boss’s bidding, checking on the experiments, stirring the soup, cleaning up the messes, doing it all over and over and over and over again. When does it end?”

Ozekiel was concerned for his colleague. “You just need a break. Put in for a vacate when we’re done here. I know a spot on Arubia, great beaches, ceviche to die for.” Gabby wasn’t having it. He spun her ‘round. “Look, Gabriella, it’s a job, right? A good job. Benefits. Full dental.”

“Sez you,” she says.

Oz took another look down. “I like these humans. So perfectly imperfect, but they have, I dunno... something. He’s a little thick, but a hard worker. He’ll be a good provider. And she... she’s... beautiful.”

Gabby raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, in a human way,” he continued. “Not like you. You’re... celestial.”

Gabby sulked. The earthling was beautiful. Much prettier than her. Nice smile, perfect little boobs. And genuinely sweet. “It took some searching,” she said. “Harder and harder to find a virgin these days. Quick as I find them, the Boss keeps knocking them up with his ‘Son of God’ shtick. Somebody needs to give Him the memo.”

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, “Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.” - The Gospel, according to Luke

Mary was not having a good time. Whoever the father was, cramps were cramps, and pain was pain, and the waves of contraction came more frequently now. One good thing though; the clenching and clamping down negated the smell. The hay was thin, not nearly enough to absorb the smell of cow poo and donkey piss, certainly nothing she wanted to bed down in.

Leaning into her husband, the innkeeper’s wife allowed, “We should’ve given them our bed.” After her husband’s badgering to come give a hand, she’d finally relented. Mary was grateful for the comfort of another woman, even one that knew nothing of what she was enduring.

Standing back, but still close at hand, was her husband. Joseph felt pity for his wife in all of this. No matter that he’d never lain with her; her insistence to wait till after this “immaculate” birth, the promise of what was to come falling far short of what he’d been asked to accept. Why God, why my wife, why ask me to swallow this? He’d been grateful to get out of town. He’d grown weary of the snickering of the other carpenters. Some looked at him with open disdain, appalled at his ineffectiveness, the horns he’d been made to wear. Worse still, were those who put their heads down, embarrassed for him. As if reading his thoughts, the innkeeper squeezed his arm, steered him away to the courtyard.

They stood for a moment in silence. The innkeeper broke it. “Look at those stars,” he said. The Heavens were filled with them, more than either had ever seen. “One could almost think the angels are attending.” Joseph said nothing.

The innkeeper laid his hand on his arm. “You must have faith, my friend. Your wife is unsullied, she will be your virgin bride.”

Joseph jerked his arm away. “And why must I have faith, innkeeper? Why must I believe this... this... hallucination about an angel’s visit? How do you know she speaks truth?”

“Because I feel it, Joseph. I know this thing. One has only to look at her to know it, too. And no matter what you choose to believe or not to believe, this child will be yours. This child is yours.”

In the dark, he could feel Joseph’s restlessness.

“If you don’t believe it, then go! Run away now. We’ll take the child, and your wife, too, if that is what you wish. Though you’d be a bigger fool than I thought, and it would follow you all your days.” He softened, tried another tack. “It’s easy for me to say, I know, but I would give much for this honor that is bestowed upon you. Both of you. I cannot prove it. But while I can understand your doubt, Joseph, I reject it.” He looked to the sky. “The stars would not lie.”

And in this moment, the night was ripped asunder, and a great whoosh of sound and whiteness filled the vacuum. The music of Om filled the air, and the rent fabric of time and space, sealed over it. A soft explosion infused the world and all in attendance bathed in it. Hastening inside, the men beheld in wonderment, the innkeeper’ s wife, the ox and ass, all, all glowed with a light whose source they could not identify. But only one glowed from within. Mary beamed, the deliverer of salvation, she who had carried her faith forward, borne the load of knowing and the doubt of her husband, the conviction, now rewarded with the truth that she’d been right to trust the angel’ s word. As the explosion dissipated, lingered, the vibration of pure love as carrying wave, the source of the light within the stable became obvious. Against her breast, the babe, naked and impervious, beamed its beneficence, and all were warmed by its immanence. The innkeeper’ s wife unwrapped her shawl to swaddle the child in. The child did not cry, nor make any sound. Its hungry eyes sought the eyes of each in turn, sensing the road ahead, assuring all. The innkeeper found an empty feed sack, its roughness miraculously softened, to cover mother and child. Joseph rushed to Mary’ s side.

“Joseph, your son,” Mary whispered. “My son,” Joseph said. - The Gospel, according to Alki

In the distance came the sound of drumming approaching, underlaid with the silent tread of a shepherd’s flock. Beyond, far beyond, their presence merely sensed, came three Magi bearing gifts, none more precious than the faith to follow an unknown exploding star.

On the Mothership, Oz reached for his wings. “Showtime,” he said. “Let’s congratulate the happy couple.”

“Ugh. Strapping on the paraphernalia... can’t we just go as we are?”

“Angels they can handle, Gabby. But, little green people?”

He allowed the thought to fade away. “Or... we could just leave.” Looking down, Gabriella reached for Ozekiel’s hand, squeezed it.
“Not yet,” she replied. “Not yet.”

Alki Steriopoulos, originally dreamed up Christmas Eve Day, 2017

My good friend, artist Brian Kelly, who makes these images, made my favorite Christmas card some years back. I share it here with you now. How much nicer things might’ve been for Mary if she’d had a hot bath at the Bethlehem Holy-Day Inn…

Christmas Eve in the year 0 A.D., at the Bethlehem Holy-Day Inn. - Brian Kelly

I was noodling around on my digital piano thingie in a maudlin mood tonight, feeling very Charlie Brown-ish, when my bride snuck in and recorded me “musing” as she called it, on Silent Night, my favorite Christmas carol.

I wish you all to feel every inch of the ups and downs of this Christmas season. There is nothing like Christmas to bring out the missing of loved ones no longer with us. So I invite you to allow yourself to go as deep into your sadness and your joy, your memories, your hopes and wishes for now and the future, as you dare. It’s okay. Permission to wallow, permission to rejoice against all odds. We’re just here for a precious minute. Enjoy. Disfrutar! Feliz Navidad! love, alki

Dept. of a Little Something Extra - Just found this. Constantino Yucca Chutas, founder of Acción Andina, plants hundreds of thousands of polylepsis trees in the highland forests of the Andes with the help of local Quechua communities, with the aim of protecting and conserving the watersheds of the Andes and the Amazon headwaters. Maybe you want to help support this work. At the very least, let us celebrate this hero. The UN has awarded him the honor of naming him a Champion of the Earth.

https://www.cnn.com/world/americas/andes-cloud-forests-polylepis-c2e-spc/index.html