If we take the story of Jesus being born in Bethlehem literally, the Holy Family has no choice but to go there because of the census being taken. In this case, it’s interesting to think that the Roman Empire—the very force that Jesus ends up standing up to, costing him his life—is an integral agent in the fulfilment of this biblical prophecy.
If we fast-forward to the end of Jesus’s ministry (yes, I know it’s not Easter), given that the Roman Empire also is the collective agent of his crucifixion, we could say that the “enemy” helped hasten the fullness of his becoming the Christ he comes to be.
It is not just the innkeeper who allows the Holy Family to stay in his stables who helps solidify the understanding of Jesus as a humble servant of the poor; the very opportunity would never have presented itself had they not been rejected repeatedly by the first innkeepers with whom they sought shelter.
It’s a curious thing, this Jesus story. At every turn, there seems to be something pressing against the direction God desires for Jesus, and yet he emerges on the other side, not unmarked by the experience, but transformed in a way that seems like an even more complete picture of the Jesus who was prophesied.
This could reveal some uncomfortable things about God, depending on how we look at it. If God willed all of these things to happen, it’s a pretty twisted way to show love to an only son. Or maybe Jesus is collateral damage in a larger story, with all of the means justifying the greater end of human salvation.
On the other hand, maybe people just do horrible things to each other sometimes. Maybe God doesn’t intercede because if God did, these constant lifelines would ultimately prohibit us from growing. Or maybe suffering is more of an inevitability rather than a necessity. Maybe God knows that though we have the capacity to know and do better, we won’t all the time. And maybe God can work in the midst of those worst moments of humanity too.
In the midst of a foreign occupation, faced with scandal, likely marital tension, potential poverty, far from home and absent a true resting place in a moment of greatest need, love, grace, peace, and hope still push their way through into the world. Yes, it’s messy, painful, and not exactly what we expected, but it’s beautiful regardless. It’s irrepressible in its aim to transform, despite the fear and violence with which that transformation is met.
We may be able to change how it looks or the places where it’s found, but love is insistent. It’s inevitable. It simply is.
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