An innkeeper arrived at the court of the famous Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, known as the “Bnei Yissaschar,” complaining that his landlord planned to evict him from his inn.

The Rabbi asked the Jew if he lived in a certain city, and if his inn was designed a certain way. When the Jew answered yes, the Rabbi asked if there was still a well with good tasting water in the courtyard. When the innkeeper nodded again, the Rabbi said that there was nothing to worry about, and everything would work out.

As a reply to the man’s befuddlement, the Rabbi told him the following story:

A young man once travelled to his Rabbi. After three days, he arrived at an inn.

The innkeeper was busy with his patrons, and no one took notice of the young man. He waited for a while, and then got up to leave.

Looking from the window, the innkeeper’s son noticed the young man walking away. He ran after him and told him that his father would soon be able to care for him.

The young man was given tasty food to eat, and then he asked for a drink.

He waited for water for quite a while, but the water did not arrive. The innkeeper explained to him that though they had a well in the courtyard, its water was not desirable, and so he had sent someone to bring water from the city’s well.

The young man said that he would try water from the inn’s well, as he was very thirsty. He tasted it and said that in fact it was quite enjoyable.

Surprised, the other patrons tasted the water as well. It was true—a transformation had occurred. Word soon spread that the innkeeper had delicious water in his well. Selling the clean water at a neat profit caused him to prosper.

After telling his tale, the Rabbi told the villager that he had been that young man in the story. By that point, the villager remembered the story as well, recalling that he had been the young boy who had entreated the Rabbi-to-be to return to the inn and enjoy his family’s hospitality.

The Rabbi explained that when he heard that the well was still providing its tasty water, he understood that the mitzvah of hosting guests, which was the source of the family’s change in fortune, was still being kept. This is why he could assure the man that all would be well.

There once was a lovely couple expecting a baby. For reasons beyond their control, they had to go on a long and difficult journey right before the woman was to be delivered. Now, this couple knew no one in the town to which they were traveling and, due to the woman’s condition slowing them down, they were pretty late to the gathering and couldn’t find anywhere to stay. Again and again, they reached out to people, hoping that they would find a welcome and that their needs would be met. It was getting later and later, and they were losing hope.

Enter another humble innkeeper. He was taking care of the guests already overflowing his small establishment when the man and woman knocked on his door. At first, he told them that he, too, had no vacancy. There was no more room in his inn. But then, he saw the woman’s condition and was moved to help them. He had a stable. It wasn’t very nice or clean, but it was shelter. If they were willing to overlook the inconveniences, he was willing to extend his hospitality to these weary travellers. He did this without formality and without concern about how the type of lodging might reflect on him. He saw a need and he generously gave what he had to the strangers.

I think we all know how the story ends.

Christmas can be the most wonderful time of the year, but it can also be a terribly sad and lonely time; a time when bereavement feels more raw and when the expectations of cheer grate painfully with our true inner state. It’s one of the reasons that hospitality is particularly important at Christmas.

Jesus was born into a harsh reality – a dirty animal shed, an unsafe political situation, a religious establishment that had their hopes set on an altogether more impressive-looking saviour. Christmas marks the birth of God himself into this world, come as a baby, vulnerable, powerless and at risk.

When we extend a welcome to another person in his name, we echo his willingness to come close to the mess and, in that closeness, transform it.

I have been thinking quite a bit about time recently. 2024 has gone so fast – I feel quite bewildered to be on the threshold of Christmas once again. But I love this season. The expectant waiting of Advent, the child-like anticipation of the birth of Jesus, the hope of light arriving in the middle of whatever darkness surrounds us, and the delight of reconnecting with friends, so few of whom we manage to see in the fullness and fastness of life. For many people, of course, it is a sad and lonely season, and for us, too, there has been grief this year.

When I think about the Bible’s promises about the life to come. The scriptures say it will be like a great feast, where everyone has a place at the table, there is an abundance of food and no fear of hunger. We will have bodies made to last an eternity – no pain or decay. We will live this never-ending life in the fullness of the presence of God, worshiping him as he deserves, forever and ever.

Until then, we share his kingdom by living as he calls us to – generously, sacrificially, joyfully and hospitably. Let’s extend wide welcomes in his name this Christmas, and watch the miracle of his love.

Every blessing for Christmas and the New Year,

Rev Nick