Few experiences in life are more tragic than missing something important when there was no real need to miss it. Yet that is the experience of many, many people. It is the experience of those who missed the first Christmas, and also of those who miss Christmas today.
The first of the men who missed Christmas was the innkeeper. The Bible does not mention this man explicitly. Probably by the time the story of the birth of Jesus Christ was put into writing no one remembered who he was; there was no reason to remember him. Still there certainly was an innkeeper, for when the Bible tells us that Mary “brought forth her first-born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7), the verse implies the existence of this man. The point of the reference is that in the hustle and bustle of the season the innkeeper missed the most important birth in history.
He should not have missed it, of course. He should not have missed it simply because he was so close to it. The decree of the Emperor Augustus brought the family of Jesus to his town, Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph stood on his doorstep, perhaps even entered his waiting room, stood before his desk. The child was born in his stable, almost under his nose. And yet his preoccupation with his business kept him from it.
This dramatized account of the innkeeper’s reasoning comes from a recent book by the distinguished American writer Frederick Buechner:
“I speak to you as men of the world,” said the Innkeeper. “Not as idealists but as realists. Do you know what it is like to run an inn—to run a business, a family, to run anything in this world for that matter, even your own life? It is like being lost in a forest of a million trees,” said the Innkeeper, “and each tree is a thing to be done. Is there fresh linen on all the beds? Did the children put on their coats before they went out? Has the letter been written, the book read? Is there money enough left in the bank? Today we have food in our bellies and clothes on our backs, but what can we do to make sure that we will have them still tomorrow? A million trees. A million things.… Finally we have eyes for nothing else, and whatever we see turns into a thing” [The Magnificent Defeat, pp. 66, 67].
The world is filled with such persons today—materialistic men, women, and children who miss the meaning of Christmas simply because their business, parties, Christmas cards, trees, and tinsel seem too pressing. Were this not so, there would not be so many grim faces in our stores or so many tired people in our churches in December.
Do not think that the Christmas story is merely speaking to non-Christians at this point. It is probably not speaking to them much at all. Who would berate Caesar Augustus for missing Christmas? He was too far away. There was no possibility of his finding it. No one would berate the Greeks or countless others. The story speaks rather to Christians, for they are the ones who should take note of the birth of Christ deeply and yet often do not.
A number of years ago a minister named A. W. Tozer was concerned about the feverish materialism of Christians in our age. He wrote this about it:
Every age has its own characteristics. Right now we are in an age of religious complexity. The simplicity which is in Christ is rarely found among us. In its stead are programs, methods, organizations and a world of nervous activities which occupy time and attention but can never satisfy the longing of the heart. The shallowness of our inner experience, the hollowness of our worship, and that servile imitation of the world which marks our promotional methods all testify that we, in this day, know God only imperfectly, and the peace of God scarcely at all [The Pursuit of God, p. 17].
He added,
If we would find God amid all the religious externals we must first determine to find him, and then proceed in the way of simplicity. Now as always God discovers himself to “babes” and hides himself in thick darkness from the wise and the prudent. We must simplify our approach to him.
The second man who missed Christmas was Herod, king of Judaea, or, to put it more accurately, an underking of a border province of the far-flung Roman empire. There was nothing likable about Herod. He was a sly old fox, guilty of murdering many, including at least one wife and three sons. He probably had no religion and was a cynic. He knew the traditions of Israel, but he only half believed them if he believed them at all. Yet he should have found Christmas, if only because he had such a large stake in the outcome.
Matthew is the one who tells us Herod’s story. Herod was at home in Jerusalem when news reached him that wise men had come from the east. They were asking where they could find the king of the Jews, the one born recently. Herod was well aware that they were talking about the Messiah, and he knew of no Messiah. Talk like that was dangerous. Herod therefore called the religious leaders to find out where the future king should be born. After he had found out he called the wise men themselves and persuaded them to report to him if their search in Bethlehem proved fruitful.
“Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also” (Matt. 2:8). It was a sly maneuver; murder, not worship, was in the old king’s heart. It was a great pity also, for Herod knew of the birth, knew its significance. He missed it through the encrusted habit of greed and self-interest.
Today many people miss practically everything good in life because of greed and self-interest. They miss friendship, beauty, love, good times, and happiness. And many miss Jesus. Jesus said, “What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36.) Real self-interest lies in finding the one who loves us and died to be our Saviour.
There was another group of persons who missed Christmas. These were the religious leaders, the chief priests and the scribes. They of all men should not have missed the birth of Christ, for they had the Scriptures. They were the ones who could tell Herod where the Christ was to be born. They knew it was in Bethlehem. Yet they did not leave their own homes or the palace to investigate his arrival.
What kept these men from going along with the wise men? We do not know for certain, of course. But it might have been their pride in the fact that Herod had called them instead of others and that they had been able to give the right answer to his question.
We see this in the religious world. There are sectors of the Church in which almost any Bible question will receive a right answer. Yet in many of these places there is no real hunger after God; the vital, joyous, and rewarding reality of the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ is lacking. Knowing the content of the Bible is not enough. To be all that God intends him to be, a person must see beyond the Book to its Author.
Yet though many did not find Christmas, some did. They were not the thousands who were engrossed in the countless details of materialistic lives. They were just poor people who were looking to God and to whom God came.
The shepherds, for instance, were not important in the social structure of the ancient East. Most people thought poorly of them. They were not even able to testify in a court of law, for their testimony was considered unreliable. And yet they saw the angels. The wise men also found Christmas. They were not even Jews—and everybody knew that God’s promised salvation was of the Jews. Yet the wise men saw the star. Finally there were those like Simeon and Anna, poor but saintly people who like many others “looked for redemption in Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38). No one would have given a second thought to these poor people. They were not important. Yet they saw and even held God’s treasure.
Why did these people find Christmas? The first answer is that they were honest enough to admit their need of a Saviour. The self-sufficient would never have made the trip to the manger; they do not do it today. These people knew they needed a Saviour. Second, they were also humble enough to receive the Lord Jesus Christ when he came. No doubt there were levels of comprehension. Perhaps the shepherds, or the wise men, or even Simeon and Anna did not understand very much. But whatever they understood they received, for we are told in each case that they praised God for the birth of the Lord.
The wise men, whether they be shepherds or magi, are the ones who acknowledge their need and humble themselves enough to receive the Lord Jesus Christ as their Saviour. These, and only these, find Christmas.
George M. Marsden is associate professor of history at Calvin College, Grand Rapids, Michigan. He has the Ph.D. (Yale University) and has written “The Evangelical Mind and the New School Presbyterian Experience.”
