This is an original piece and all characters are the property of Pat and Barb Roman and copyrighted by PAR/59 Enterprises.

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Reverend Peter DeAngelo sat at his desk and stared out the rectory window. The snow was falling only lightly now, but the damage had already been done. For two days, the blizzard had raged, and before it was over, it had dumped over three feet of snow on the area. All roads, including the interstate had been shut down, and the major airports were snowed in as well. Using bulldozers and halftracks, the National Guard had ferried thousands of stranded holiday travelers into the tiny town of Lowewood and neighboring towns, too. The high school and the elementary schools had been pressed into service as shelters and the overflow had been shuttled into the churches and the synagogue as well. The community hall at St. Ignatius was packed with cots supplied by the Army, and the Red Cross and Salvation Army had sent emergency rations. The areas that were not occupied by the refugees were stacked with boxes and bags of foodstuffs.

He sighed deeply. This was no way to spend a Christmas. These people should be home with their families and friends, not huddled in some emergency shelter. Somehow, he had to bring some message of joy and hope into their lives. To make matters worse, he hadn't the first clue for a sermon for the Christmas Eve services later tonight.

He cleared the computer screen and stared again at the blank monitor before him. Ten times, he had started, and ten times he had cleared the screen. He had paged through the book of sermons for every occasion put out by the diocese, but nothing seemed appropriate. He had even rummaged through some of the previous Christmas sermons, but to no avail.

He stood and paced for a few minutes and then sat down on the sofa in the study. It had been a long week, what with preparations for Christmas and now this influx of refugees. He leaned his head against the soft brown leather of the couch back and closed his eyes.

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The banging on the door woke him. Slowly, Peter sat up and stretched. He had only laid down a few minutes earlier. "Don’t break the door down." He grumbled, pulling his tunic straight. "I'm coming."

He walked across the storeroom that served as his makeshift bedroom and pulled the door open. The man on the other side of the counter was a Roman Centurion.

"Innkeeper!" The soldier shouted in the manner common to all Romans. "I will have rooms for myself and all my officers." He placed a Denarius on the counter.

"I am sorry, sir." Peter said. "There are no rooms available. The census ordered by your great leader, Caesar Augustus has packed the Inn beyond capacity."

"The room at the top of the stairs is still empty. I will take that."

"But that room had already been promised. Joseph Ben Jacob of Nazareth reserved the room several weeks ago. He is due in tonight and from what I hear, his wife is ready to deliver at any moment. Surely you would not turn a pregnant woman out into the cold." He pleaded.

"Let her whelp in the street for all I care. All that it means is that there will be one more of your kind to register. If you Jews weren't so prolific, or so obstinate, I wouldn't be here in this Jupiter forsaken stretch of dust you jokingly call a country in the first place. Now Innkeeper, do I get my room or not." It wasn't a question. Of that Peter was certain.

"But ... " Although he knew it was an exercise in futility, Peter tried once more to reason with the man.

The Centurion grabbed him by the throat and pulled him to him. "He hears but he does not listen." He growled. "I said I will take the room at the top of the stairs. My officers will sleep in there." He pointed to the storeroom.

"But that is where I am sleeping." Peter started to protest, but was cut off by a glare from the Roman.

"That will be four Cisterces per room per night. Baths are extra." Peter said.

"This is for all of the quarters." The Centurion said pointing to the Denarius on the table. "Baths included." He strode toward the door. It was obvious there would be no more negotiating. The room at the top of the stairs was his.

With a heavy sigh, Peter picked up the coin and put it in his pouch. He motioned to a youth sitting in the corner of the room. "Simon." He called. "Go to the room at the top of the stairs and make certain it is ready for our guest."

"Oh! Is Joseph Ben Jacob here?" Simon asked. "I heard that he and his wife were coming here. I know of him. My mother has several cabinets that he made for her when he was here the last time."

Joseph Ben Jacob was well known throughout Judea for his outstanding carpentry work. The Inn was furnished with many of his pieces.

"No. The Centurion will be using that room." Peter said flatly as Simon scurried up the stairs.

A commotion in the street caught Peter's attention. He went to the door. There, Iscariot's son Judas was arguing with the Centurion. Even for an eleven year old, that was not a very healthy thing to do.

" ... So you see, Most Honored Sir ... " Judas made a fawning bow before the Roman representative. " ... Most boys would ask five Shekels to carry your bags. You would offer one and then we would proceed to haggle for many minutes before settling on two. I quote a firm price of three Shekels. No haggling. No wasted time. Isn't that worth the extra Shekel?" While the soldier was pondering the statement, Judas was already lugging the heavy bags inside. He had his bargain. Even if the soldier refused, he had to pay him since Judas has already performing the task. Iscariot had taught his son well. Like father, like son.

Peter glanced at the packed common room. True to form, Iscariot sat at one of the tables, three large cups overturned in front of him. Several soldiers, feeling exceptionally little pain, sat across from him. "Now, my worthy friends ... " Iscariot said, placing a date under one of the cups. "Watch once more." He deftly scrambled the cups. "Now, all you have to do is tell me which one contains the delicious little morsel to win back all your money."

One of the soldiers unsteadily pointed to the cup in the middle. His companions nodded agreement. Iscariot lifted the cup and, naturally, it was empty. It would not have mattered which cup they had pointed to, since Iscariot had covertly palmed the date before he began shuffling. In the condition his opponents were in, they would not have noticed even if he had eaten the confection in front of them.

"Shall we play another round?" Iscariot suggested. "Double or nothing?"

"What will we play with?" One soldier said. "You have all our money and promises on half of our next salary." With that, he and the others rose and half staggered out the door.

Peter smiled. By the time the soldiers sobered enough to realize what had happened, it would be too late. Iscariot and his worthless son were well known throughout the area. They would follow the crowds, fleecing the gullible. By the time their con was discovered, the pair would be gone, moving on to the next town to start again.

It was almost dawn when a haggard and obviously exhausted man came into the Inn. Peter got up from the two benches he had placed against the wall. While not as comfortable as his own room, and not even as comfortable as the bed of grain sacks he had made in the storeroom, it was all that was available. Few had left after the tavern had closed for the night. There was nowhere to go. Many slept on pallets and blankets on the floor, while others merely laid their heads on the tables to slumber.

"I am Joseph Ben Jacob." The man said softly. The weariness was evident in his voice. "I am sorry we were delayed, but my wife's days have been accomplished. We had to make many stops along the way. I will take the room now."

Peter stared at the man, tears welled in his eyes. Touvye was the midwife for the community and on several occasions, he had assisted her in the birthing of babies. While the actual birthing was woman's work, he ran for supplies and generally kept the other menfolk out of her way. It was a difficult time, even with many hands helping. He could imagine what Joseph had gone through on the road with no one to help. "I am sorry, Joseph." He said. "There is no room. A Centurion and his officers came in earlier and demanded quarters." He shook his head slowly. "I had to ... " His voice trailed off. "I had no choice ... "

"Perhaps we could stay in the storeroom?"

"The officers are there."

"Another Inn possibly?"

"They are in worse shape than I am. I could ask in the morning and see if any of the townspeople have an extra place to sleep, but I doubt even that is likely."

"I cannot wait that long. Mary must have shelter and help quickly or we might lose the baby."

"I'm sorry." Peter said, his heart heavy. Outside, he could hear the petite woman moaning in pain.

Slowly Joseph made his way to the door. "Thank you anyway."

"Wait!" Peter called. "There is one place. There is a barn on the back of this property. It isn't much, but it is warm and out of the wind. And it is tidy. Simon cleaned it only this morning. You can stay there that if you wish. I'll have Simon bring you blankets and I will get the midwife to assist you."

"Thank you." Joseph said, embracing the Innkeeper. "May Yaweh reward you a thousand times over."

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"Peter! I want answers immediately!" The man said as he strode across the common room. Instinctively, the crowd parted for the Pharisee. "Why is there a gentile ... and a Roman of all things ... defiling the room across from me? You know the law! No consorting with gentiles!"

"Avrim, do not get yourself worked up into such a state." Peter said gruffly. The steady stream of customers with requests and demands had started before dawn. He had gotten only a few hours rest, and his thoughts kept drifting to the couple in the stable. Compared to them, these people had it easy. "I had no choice. The Roman commandeered the room. I could not turn him away without bringing severe penalties. As far as the room being unclean, I will have the Rabbi cleanse it as soon as the Centurion leaves."

"It is not just the room that is unclean!" Avrim said in almost a shout. "You have broken the law by even allowing this ... this ... rabble into your establishment. It will take more than a ritual cleansing to rid you and your place of this sin." Avrim pulled his prayer shawl tightly around him in an effort to keep the supposed evil from touching him.

Behind him was a woman dressed in the clothes of a Greek. She and her husband had traveled from Antioch to register here since this was his ancestral home. "Good Sir." She said in fractured Hebrew. It was obvious she had not had much schooling in the Torah. "Is there anywhere I can get some of my native foods. I am afraid my palate is not accustomed to kosher diet. The only time we have it is on the holy days and Sabbath."

"Apparently not all those who call themselves Jews are faithful followers of the law." Avrim huffed

"Unfortunately, good woman, we are not accustomed to having this diverse a mix in this town. I am afraid that the nearest place to satisfy your dietary needs would be Jerusalem, and that is nearly a half day's journey south."

The Centurion stood at the railing and tossed a large bulging sack over the edge. "These are my clothes." He shouted at Peter. "Have them cleaned and returned to me within the hour."

"But sir … I … " Peter started to protest, but he was answered by the slamming of the door.

"Another defilement." Avrim sneered as he stared at the laundry bag in disgust. "This will warrant severe penance from Temple."

"Avrim … " His words were cut short as Simon burst through the door.

"Peter!" Simon shouted. "Touvye is with Joseph's wife and she says things are not going well. She says that she needs these things immediately." He handed Peter a list. "She says you are to bring them to the stable as soon as you can."

He glanced over the paper. Some of the items, he had on hand here at the Inn. Others would require considerable hunting and scrounging. He pulled his cloak around him as he headed for the door.

"But I am still talking to you." Avrim shouted after him. "You cannot ignore me like this ..."

This would be a very long day.

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He looked up into the angry eyes of the Centurion.

"Why are there people in the stable?" The Roman officer demanded. "Get them out of there. My horse needs the stall they are occupying. "

This was the final straw. With the confusion caused by the overcrowding and the general chaos, he had not eaten a decent meal in over two days. Now, his evening meal was to be denied him. In addition, the frail woman in the stable was about to give birth any minute now, and Simon and he had spent the greater part of the day ferrying supplies to Touvye. There was no way he was going to turn them out into the night so that this ... this … person's horse could be warm and comfortable. He stood nose to nose with the Gentile.

"No." He said.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" The Centurion bellowed. "You realize I could have you crucified for disobeying a Roman order!"

"You can do with me what you will, but I cannot believe that you have such little regard for human life that you would condemn that poor innocent woman and her child to possible death just so your horse has a place to stay. Your horse has a much better chance of survival in the night air than that tiny infant who is about to be born."

To Peter's surprise, the Centurion said nothing, merely turned on his heel and strode to a table. A withering glare sent the occupants of that table scurrying for other accommodations.

"FOOD!" The Centurion bellowed. "And none of that Hebrew swill, either. Bring me good solid Roman sustenance."

A waiter hurried to full the soldier's demands.

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He started across the yard to the stable. Mary had been in labor nearly all day, and Peter was starting to worry. The last time he was in here, Touvye had said that the baby should be crowning any minute. That was two hours ago.

Simon nearly knocked him down as he approached the stable door. "It's here! He finally got born! The Baby!" He shouted.

Peter held him briefly and then Simon ran into the Inn to spread the good news to the patrons.

Joseph strode to meet him, his face beaming. The two men embraced in silent congratulations. Joseph took his newfound friend and guided him to the manger that served as a makeshift cradle.

Peter looked at the incredibly tiny being lying in the straw. Suddenly, the newborn opened His eyes. Peter knew that until about two or three weeks, infants did not have much control over their eyes and saw everything as blurry images, but he could swear that this one was looking directly at him.

"Would you like to hold Him?" Mary said, picking up her Son and handing him to Peter.

Awkwardly, Peter cradled the tiny Babe in his arms The Infant gave a lopsided smile and grasped his finger. It was probably gas, but the smile warmed his heart. A feeling of incredible calm and peace flooded his tired body. He didn't want it to ever end. After a few minutes, he reluctantly handed his small charge back to His mother. "Thank you." He said. "He is very special. He is destined for great things."

"How do you know." Mary said softly, laying her Son back in the manger. The Infant had gone to sleep once more.

"I don't know how I know. I just know." Peter said, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"PETER!!!" Avrim huffed from the doorway. "HOW DARE YOU!!! You know the law. You cannot touch a woman who has just given birth. She is unclean!!! This could cause you to be sanctioned! I must inform the council immediately!"

"Avrim." Peter said calmly.

"Yes?"

"Sit on it."

Avrim only tugged on his ever present prayer shawl and stomped back to the Inn.

As he left the stable, Nathan came running up to him. "Where is He?" He asked breathlessly. "Where is the Babe that the angel told us about?"

Behind the teenager was a growing crowd of shepherds and townspeople converging on the grounds between the Inn and the barn.

"Would you like to start at the beginning?" Peter said.

"My father and I were in the meadow behind Shameir's property with our flocks when this beautiful lady appeared out of nowhere. She said we were not to be afraid. That she was an angel sent from Heaven. That she brought glad tidings of great joy. She said that a Baby was born tonight and that he was to be the Messiah. Then there was a whole multitude of other heavenly beings with her and they were all singing praises to the Lord. When they finally disappeared, we started for town. When we told the others, they joined us."

Peter surveyed the crowded courtyard. Many of the people there were carrying gifts for the Infant and His parents. Food, clothing, and sacred objects were in abundance. Many were chanting prayers of celebration as well. Even the Rabbi was present. Avrim was nowhere to be seen, thankfully.

"What is going on down there?" A voice from one of the upper windows called. It was the Centurion. "Innkeeper. I need my rest. If you cannot control the crowds, then I shall do it for you." Seconds later, the Centurion strode into the courtyard. He had on his armor and his sword was drawn.

"Disperse immediately!" He yelled over the prayers and singing of the crowd. No one moved.

"I said disperse." He repeated. One of the Shepherds made a rude sign to him. At the same time, one of the townspeople loudly whispered a suggestion as to what the soldier could do with his sword.

A band of soldiers gathered behind the Centurion. Several of the more militant shepherds and townspeople formed a line facing them. Pitchforks and knives seemed to appear out of nowhere in their hands.

Boldly, Simon strode up to the Centurion.

"Is this what you want?" He asked angrily. "Death in the same night that He is born?"

"If they want bloodshed, then they shall have it." The Centurion said flatly.

"He wants peace."

"Who?"

"The Babe. Can't you feel it in the air? He is special. He is the Son of God."

"Which god is that?"

"The One True Living God, and He is His Son. Get down on your knees and adore Him."

Slowly, the Centurion approached the stable and the Babe in the manger. Peter felt the same peace and contentment that he felt when he held the Child. Then, miraculously, it grew to encompass the Centurion and everyone in the stable and even beyond. It was so strong he could almost see it.

The Centurion stood for a few minutes staring at the tiny Baby before him. Almost involuntarily, he dropped his sword and took off his helmet. Then slowly he lowered himself to one knee.

The Baby smiled.

The Centurion rose and turned to his men. "Stand down. There is no threat here." He said in a hushed reverent voice.

One by one, the soldiers left the area. Slowly, the crowd dispersed as well.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and looked to the heavens. There, directly over the stable was a star. One he had never noticed before. It was brighter than anything in the sky with the exception of the sun.

He smiled as he headed for the Inn. Perhaps Simon was right. Perhaps the tiny Jesus Ben Joseph was the Son of God. Perhaps He was the Messiah that the prophets had predicted. Perhaps …"

He lay down on his makeshift bed. Miraculously, it was not as hard and rigid as it had been the night before. He fell asleep mulling all the possibilities in his head.

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"Father DeAngelo. Father DeAngelo. Wake up." Angie Dennison, the church secretary was standing over him.

Peter opened one bleary eye. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked.

"About four hours. I didn't want to wake you before this, because I knew how tired you were. But now … there is barely enough time left to get ready for services. I also noticed that you haven't even started on your sermon."

"I know. The muses have deserted me. Maybe now that I'm a bit rested, maybe I'll get an inspiration." He went to the window and stared out a few minutes. The snow had stopped and the sky was beginning to clear. A bright star shone through the rapidly diminishing clouds. "Just like in Bethlehem." He mused. The dream came flooding back to him. It was so vivid, like he was actually there. He could still feel the peace and joy that the Baby radiated. He put his hands into his pocket. His fingers tightened around a small round object. He drew it out and stared at it. He recognized it. It was an ancient coin. A Denarius.

He sat at the computer and began typing. As if they had a life of their own, his fingers flew over the keys.

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He looked at the overflowing pews. Not only was his own congregation present, but most of the refugees as well.

He cleared his throat and stepped up to the pulpit. "My dear friends, and you are all friends, whether we have known each other for years or we just met these past few days.

I know we have all heard the story of the Birth of Jesus from early childhood.

In many ways, it is a story as new as tonight. Just like many of you, Joseph and Mary were travelers. Strangers in an unfamiliar place. Like many of you, that place was not where they wanted to be. That, however is where they were meant to be on that fateful night two thousand years ago … " He paused and fingered the coin in his pocket.

"Many times, the Innkeeper has been portrayed as a careless, unfeeling, and sometimes evil person for turning the weary couple out into the cold. But think about it my friends. Think about his situation in light of this week's events. He, like many of us, was overworked and frustrated because there were too many people and not enough space to put them all.

He could have turned the couple into the streets. He could have, but he didn't. He sheltered them in the only place where there was room. A stable. There, in that makeshift lodging, history was made. History was changed. The Son of Man was born. Perhaps in this place ... and in this time, He will be born again. Not in flesh and blood, but in our hearts. Think about it, my friends. Will you be the Innkeeper? Will you give Him a place to be born in your heart?"

He looked over the congregation. There was peace and hope in their eyes and in their hearts.

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