The inn and the stable
No room at the inn. Those words are carved deep in our Christian sensibility. Over the centuries, we have imagined a heartless landlord turning away a woman in labour, and her anxious husband; 
but the reality was probably a bit different. It was census time, and Bethlehem would have been crowded. Inns were basic buildings, one large room with straw on the floor for bedding.
That evening, the inn would have been full of dusty, noisy travellers, some of them intoxicated, and it was certainly not a place for a woman about to give birth. So our image of the landlord changes. He is now thoughtful, caring. He takes the couple away from the crowd to a quiet place that houses his animals, and no doubt he provides bedding. Perhaps he calls his wife away from duties, to help with the birth. We are not sure. But the evidence suggests the landlord was more compassionate than heartless, and there is connection between the crowded inn and the stable where Jesus was born. For some of us, this can be seen as a metaphor for church.
Many of my encounters this year, have been with stable-dwellers, people who find Jesus on the fringe because they feel there is no room at the inn. Most have been Catholics: people divorced and remarried, people committed to loving same-sex relationships, women who feel they have no voice in the church. I suspect these have become so many that in some places they are majority. A few years ago, an American Catholic paper stated that 61% of American Catholics lived outside the sacraments. To extend the metaphor, this suggests that the stables are becoming larger than the inns.
Here in New Zealand, the stable-dwellers come to retreats and prayer days. They hunger to belong, but they view the landlord as heartless, and they feel a disconnection between their relationship with Jesus and the institutional inn. How can we demonstrate that the landlord is compassionate and caring, that the inn and the stable may seem separate but are connected and actually one territory? That kind of rhetoric doesn’t work for divorced and remarried couples, or same-sex couples, who see the church as being unloving about loving. It doesn’t work for women who consider the landlord deaf to the feminine voice that can’t express itself with masculine language. There is a gap made by two extreme views, and the middle ground seems to be empty.
What will close that gap? The answer to any question of faith, lies with Jesus in the Gospels. As a devout Jew, Jesus’ mission began to his own people, and then expanded with need. He preached to the Samaritans. The faith of the Syro-Phoenician woman resulted in him ministering to the pagans, making his mission global. Always his concern was for the spiritual well-being of the people. What did Jesus say about same-sex relationships? Absolutely nothing. He did comment on marriage and divorce but that was in response to some curly questions from the Pharisees. It was to the Samaritan woman who’d had five husbands, that he first confided that he was the Messiah and then gifted her with the task of breaking the good news to her people.
It is Jesus who answers that voice of fear in us that makes us want to judge either the landlords, or the people dwelling on the fringe. It’s his love that heals our divided thinking, and I am convinced that this is our way forward. Love in action fills the gap.
I believe the landlords are caring and compassionate. They do their work well, but some demands are outside their job description. It is up to the occupants of the inn, the lay people, to occupy the middle ground. We have the freedom to go to those who see themselves as fringe-dwellers. We can listen to their stories, respect and honour them where they are. We can allow Jesus to love them through us, and allow Jesus to love us through them.
This year I’ve experienced Jesus’ love in many ways, through beautiful masses and parish functions, in ecumenical retreats and days or prayer. I’ve also experienced that love when writing blessings for people who want God in their civil union ceremonies, and in reading faith-journey letters from people in prison. And I have felt a healing in myself.
So my Christmas present from Jesus this year, has been the gift of inclusiveness. He tells me that the inn and the stable are one.
Joy Cowley
Feeding the birds
Little boy Baxter wants us to feed the birds.
He tells me so with just the one word
“Birds!’
He grips the bread tightly
and proceeds to break it into
ever smaller pieces.
We are in this together.
My job is to throw the bread up to the raised plateau
where the wax-eyes, sparrows and chaffinches
swoop down from the old plum tree
and what’s left of the olive.
This exercise knows no end.
He breaks the bread into large pieces at first
and then, all concentration,
he breaks what’s left again and again
and passes it to me very carefully for dispatch
until all the birds are fed
and we are face to face
and he is smiling at me
from beneath a tumble of unruly blond hair
and together we are trying to separate the last crumb
to make of it
two crumbs,
to make this communion
go on forever.
– Michael Fitzsimons
The inspiration of Christmas
The Inspiration of Christmas is its Message that Shines Forth from Bethlehem
The inspiration of Christmas is its message. As Bethlehem adorns itself with the colorful decorations that induce joy and optimism, another transformation takes place during this happy season. Hearts, so routinely worried about the daily life in these holy lands, take a breather. They are warmed by the traditional hymns sung in Arabic, native tongue of Palestinian Christians, and in other languages. Choirs from far away join local choirs in singing the Christmas message and in spreading the hope that shines from the manger. Children wear brightful clothes and as they munch on local varieties of the Christmas cake, the Christmas spirit engulfs them with the satisfaction that the world cannot be any better.
On December 24th, the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem, His Beatitude Fouad Twal, leaves his patriarchal seat at the Jaffa Gate of the Old City of Jerusalem at noon time. The community of Jerusalem dignitaries, women and men, hailing from the different faith groups of the city accompany him as he makes his way to Bethlehem. The feeling of togetherness warms people’s hearts as they congratulate the Patriarch and each other on this joyful occasion. Bells of churches ring aloud as the patriarchal motorcade moves on its way.
Bethlehem is only 12 kilometers from Jerusalem. There is a separation wall that now divides the two cities, traditionally in a twinning relationship for the one has witnessed the birth of our Lord and the second his death and resurrection. As the Patriarch’s entourage approaches the Separation Wall, the gates that are closed year long are opened and the cars pass freely through them. Symbolic and yet suggestive move that reminds all of us that Christmas is the season to let down walls and to work always to challenge all forms of separation.
Once the wall is crossed, hundreds of Bethlehemites receive the Patriarch with cheers and ululations. Ululations are special sounds, only perfected by older women, who make them on occasions of joy and community togetherness. Children hurry to get the blessing of the Patriarch as the boy scouts start playing band music. The motorcade of the Patriarch arrives at Manger Square which is adorned with a big Christmas tree at around two in the afternoon. The fanfare of the reception there sees official personalities headed by the Mayors of Bethlehem, Beit Sahour of the Angels’ Field fame and neighboring Beit Jala of the Roman Catholic Seminary and the many churches adorning it, formally welcoming the Patriarch. The Square is abuzz with pilgrims and locals, priests and nuns, boy and girl scouts and with young men and women waiting to perform with their respective choirs, outside the Church.
Christmas eve, preparations are completed for the Midnight Mass presided over by the Patriarch with the presence of the President of the Palestinian National Authority, Mr. Mahmoud Abbas, as a gesture of Muslim-Christian coexistence and good neighborliness. The mass is attended by a combination of locals and internationals and is broadcast live worldwide. Christmas day is declared a national holiday for Muslims, Christians and all others to enjoy. The morning of Christmas families visit each other. Usually it is the mother or grandmother that invites all the children, their spouses and entire families to come partake of the Christmas dinner. Families exchange gifts but most importantly they sit together warm with the spirit of Christmas and mindful that the occasion which brings them together did transform the world.
During the Christmas season, we often remind each other in our greetings and exchanges that Christ is the Prince of Peace. This reminder is especially judicious since our land has been a land of conflict for countless generations. Conflict wears the human spirit down and makes one long for stability and peace. Christmas comes knocking at our hearts’ doors every year to remind us that there is no other way but the pursuit of peace and that the essence of life is to experience it in reconciliation, love and forgiveness. This remains the eternal message of Christmas for us in Bethlehem and for the rest of the world.
Dr. Bernard Sabella
An advent sermon 1511
On 21 December 1511, the fourth Sunday of Advent, a memorable event occurred in the Dominican church in Santo Domingo, on the island of Hispaniola – today, the Dominican Republic and Haiti. Antonio de Montesinos, a friar, got up in the pulpit and preached what has become known as the first cry for social justice in the Americas. Dominicans had been present in the New World for just over a year, but his words stung the ears of his listeners:
“I am the voice of Christ crying out in the desert of this island… the most shocking and dangerous voice you have ever heard. You live and die in mortal sin for the cruelty and tyranny done against these innocent peoples. With what right and by which justice do you hold these Indians in such horrible servitude? By what authority do you carry out such detestable wars against the people of these lands – people so meek and peaceful?…Are these not human beings? Do they not have rational souls? Are you not obliged to love them as yourselves? Do you not understand this? Do you not feel this? How can you be in such a profound and lethargic slumber? Be certain that in the state in which you find yourselves you can no more be saved than…those who lack or have no faith in Jesus Christ.”
These are startling words, and they received a startling response. Diego Colon, Columbus’ son and successor, protested vigorously about Montesinos’ preaching to fr. Pedro de Cordoba, the 28 year old superior of the local community. Colon was stunned at de Cordoba’s response: “We are all authors of this sermon; fray Montesinos was simply our mouthpiece, our thundering apocalyptic voice.”
Setting the scene
Fr Antonio Montesinos was among the first 15 Dominicans that the Master of the Order, the famous Thomas de Vio Cajetan, sent in 1510 to help evangelize the ‘New World.’ The fact that the Master of the Order was involved in sending these friars shows how important he regarded their coming. It was just 18 years since Columbus had ‘discovered’ the lands we call the Americas.
It is quite difficult for us at five centuries remove to recognize the significance of the ‘finding’ and opening up of the Americas. James Allison has described it like this:
“It was and is momentous… the greatest event since the Incarnation was how it was seen by some in the 16th century. Certainly, landing on the moon has had no such effect and the discovery of penicillin has not had such universal consequences.”
Columbus’ discoveries quickly meant that many European people arrived in the Carribean, happy to become part of the conquest on behalf of the Spanish Crown, to colonize and begin the process of the wholesale theft of the continents’ resources. The Franciscans accompanied them. Other secular priests and religious orders followed. This group of Dominican friars, including Montesinos, was part of this “second wave.”
By 1511, the basic mandate for priests and religious coming from Spain to the Americas was clear. They were to make Christians of the indigenous population, and to look after the Spanish colonists’ and soldiers’ (conquistadores) spiritual and pastoral needs. It was presumed that the Dominicans would fit into the religious arm of the colonization process, now running at full speed.
But they didn’t. Why was that, and what was it that this first group of Dominicans saw when they arrived? To understand this we must look at what happened to the local people at the hands of the colonizers.
Encomiendas system
The first colonizers had immediately found they needed cheap labour to fulfil their ambitions of exploiting the mineral and other resources they regarded as theirs by right of conquest. Columbus himself began what became known as the encomiendas system of supplying labour for the Spanish conquistadores’ business endeavours. Its theory is simple. The Spanish Crown entrusted (“commended”) Indian people to the local Spaniards, known as encomenderos. The Spaniards got the right to demand labour or tribute from the native people while the encomenderos, who became virtual slave owners, were obliged to provide religious teaching and protection for their Indian labourers. This was a rather unequal bargaining arrangement by any objective standard.
As the system grew, the encomenderos were obliged to defend the land for the King. The system was institutionalized by the first royal governor of Hispaniola, Nicholas de Ovando. The Indians were compelled to work, to be paid a daily wage and “treated as free persons for such they are, and not as slaves,” one of the terms of the royal order of 1503.
However, despite the terms of this royal order, in the first 20 years of Spanish rule there was wholesale exploitation of the Indians. Thousands of them ‘died like flies’ because of the introduction of European diseases like influenza, and also because of the fact that they were unaccustomed to work in the way in which the Spaniards drove them to work. The indigenous people commonly lost heart amongst themselves. Queen Isabella of Spain, hearing of some abuses, had forced Columbus to return the first 300 Indian slaves he had brought to Spain in 1494. But because communication back and forth across the high seas to Spain was slow and spasmodic, the encomiendas system continued to grow unhindered.
The preaching
It was against this tough background that Antonio Montesinos preached. The friars in his community had been well prepared for their mission through the spirit of renewal that had spread from the priory of San Esteban in Salamanca. This had given them the tools they needed to see what was happening in Hispaniola. Two things stood out in the style of their evangelization. The first was that they lived poorly among the people. Religious poverty meant that their first convent in Santo Domingo was a set of huts, made of palm branches. It was at the same time their church and studium. They had little materially (but were able to bring some theology books), but quickly learned the truth of the situation of the local people. At the same time they learned the truth about the excesses of the conquistadores. The second and more important feature of their evangelical style was that they preached communally. They prepared their homilies together around a table by candle-light.
Significance
One North American historian, Louis Hanke, has described Montesinos’ sermon as “one of the great spiritual events in the history of humanity.” The friars who prepared it with him had scrutinized the signs of the times and interpreted them in the light of the Gospel (Gaudium et Spes, 4). Five hundred years down the track it is important to recall this powerful sermon preached on the 4th Sunday of Advent 1511 by Antonio Montesinos, and to link it to our times.
The question raised by Montesinos still rings true: Where in New Zealand or in other parts of the world are people being treated as virtual slaves and not as human beings? Will we be the prophets who will work to change these wrongs? There are many glaring examples: our world-wide banking system that needs a thorough overhaul; the peoples of the third world kept poor structurally by the ever growing and impossible demands of our first world lifestyle – to name just two in which we are all involved. This Christmas Day, the feast of the incarnation, may we celebrate anew the fact that God took on a human face in a humble child who gave his life for us all, but especially for the vulnerable poor and those without champions for their human rights. What positive choices will we make to help renew our world? Viva Montesinos!
Kevin Toomey OP is the editor of Tui Motu