"Nobody Remembers My Name"
a condensed version of the sermon delivered by Rev. Kirk Moore on Christmas Eve, 2008 at Union Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, in Somonauk, Illinois.

PODCAST of "Nobody Remembers My Name"

I’ll always remember the smell. It was strong - unpleasant – like a farm animal odor mixed with lemon, garlic and sesame. Top it off with a good helping of body odor and you get the picture – or smell. To this day, every time I smell any of those smells – and when I sometimes smell them together – I think of census season so long ago.

This one was great. I had people coming in from all over the country for the tax census. They were all related in some way – though there were so many I doubt that everyone knew everyone. Maybe they did. They sure fought like they were from the same family.

I have a dozen rooms in my inn. And people weren’t fighting over the rooms. They were fighting over any little bit of space in any of my rooms. Cousins arguing with each other over how many people could actually fit in a room. Distant relatives almost coming to blows as they waited in line to see what kinds of space my inn could offer them.

And I was raking it in. The smell that was all around me back then also meant MONEY. I was getting premium rates for dusty corners of rooms. I was getting 5 times my normal rate for 5 people to share half of a bed in a room. I think I made enough to take 6 months of vacation and still have money left over.

And I stayed comfortable, too. My room was still neat, empty, and free of most of the smell that brought in so much cash. After a long day of negotiating and fitting people into rooms, I put up the "No Vacancy" sign and settled in for a relaxing night dreaming about the vacation I would have after this census time was over.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door.

"I know that your inn is full, sir, but I wonder if you could help me."

I shouted, through the closed door, "We’re really full – there’s not an inch of space left here. You’ll have to check at another inn."

"Yes, we’ve tried that, but there’s no room anywhere else, either. My wife is with child, and I fear that her time is very close. Won’t you please help us?"

I looked at my empty room. Can you imagine the premium I could get for this place? I could sleep out in the stable for a night or two if it was going to mean the kind of cash this place could bring in.

"We don’t have any money. But I’d be willing to work for our board. I’m quite handy with wood. I could fix things up here and also make some new furniture for you."

No money? Did he say no money? Forget it! I’m not giving up my room unless there’s a life-changing amount of cash in it for me.

"Sorry, sir – I don’t have any room at all."

A little bit of remorse came over me. I couldn’t let a couple about to have a baby stay outside with no shelter at all.

"If you want, you can stay out back with the animals. I’m sure it will be warm and dry there."

‘Thank you – thank you."

And then they were gone. I never saw them. I never even opened my door.

You may have heard what happened later. A baby born, wrapped in strips of cloth and placed in a manger, angels singing to shepherds, those same shepherds visiting the baby and his mother and father in my stable.

And I can’t help but think, "What if I’d let them use my room?"

I missed a golden opportunity. If I’d let them use my room, I’d have been known as the generous innkeeper who gave up his own room so that . . . Jesus . . . would have been born in a safe place. The Angels would have sung about my place. The shepherds would have visited. And . . . Mary . . . would have thought about the kindness she was shown by a humble innkeeper.

I would have made a mint! Imagine the souvenirs! I could have made little trinkets in the shape of my inn. "Birthplace of Jesus", they would say. People would come to my inn to visit the place where he lay – on my bed! I could charge the equivalent of a night’s boarding charge just to let them spend a few minutes in here. I could convert my whole place to a museum and never have to work overnight again!

But I didn’t give up my room. I never even met the couple I talked to through a closed door. I’m not the innkeeper who gave up his room for Jesus. I’m the one who sent the family to my stable – because I wanted more money. I still remember the smell – but nobody remembers my name.

+++++++++++++++

Missed opportunities. In this story, the innkeeper missed an opportunity to get rich because he was too greedy to give up his room for a couple about to have a baby.

But the coming of Jesus isn’t about making people money.

Sure, lots of people make money during the Christmas season.

The coming of Jesus isn’t about giving people fame.

Sure, lots of people capitalize on their fame or try to use Christmas to get famous.

The coming of Jesus is about God arriving not with fanfare or accolades, but rather humbly – as a child. It’s about the quiet beginnings of an extraordinary child who came to bring good news to the poor -- to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind -- to let the oppressed go free -- and to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor. It’s about the quiet beginnings of the child who came to remind us of the most important commandments – to love God and to love everyone. It’s about the quiet beginnings of Jesus – who came to give us life – abundantly.

It’s about God arriving – bearing so many names of hope: wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting father, prince of peace.

It’s about the birth of our savior – Jesus.

Close with prayer.

© 2008 Union Congregational Church, All Rights Reserved