Making Room

Confession time. As I open up my wardrobe and do the most basic inventory, I can’t help but laugh. When the pandemic put us in what feels like an eternal timeout, I essentially wear one of four tracksuits…

every.

single.

day.

So apparently 90% of my wardrobe is useful if I leave the house and interact with the public. That is both funny and sad.

Let’s turn to the region of Galilee in first century Israel, which is where you assumed we would go, I know. The villages that made up the Galilee were almost entirely peasant villages. The poor. Scholars say that upwards of 90% of these people’s income was taken as taxes to Rome, Herod, and the Temple in Jerusalem. 90%. Wow. So, I guess our taxes are one less thing for us to complain about today, correct?

A typical peasant house in 1st century Palestine was small and usually only had one room. The floor was tamped with dirt. Lime was sometimes smothered on the floor to harden the surface and discourage dust. Homes were dark, confining and smelly. People spent as much time outside as possible, including to do most of the cooking. The roof was a part of the living area. Hebrew people dried clothes, fruits, and vegetables, stored wood for winter, napped, and prayed on the roof. Every square inch of space was utilized in the most practical of ways, in a multitude of ways.

I’ve traveled to Israel and have seen the tiny excavated villages, so the idea of hosting guests seems like it should be put in the category of fantasy. But it’s absolutely central to what it means to be a good Jew. First. Top priority. If a stranger arrives at the door needing rest or sustenance, they were welcomed with coffee and what we would know as pita bread. Guests would stay overnight. Two nights. Possibly even three nights.

Because people made room for that which matters most.

This Advent season, or seasons if you include this global pandemic, is an invitation to clear the clutter. Maybe it’s an excess of clothes in the closet, or it maybe it’s a heart clogged with complaining and grumbling. We are being invited to make room for an abundance of gratitude and joy.

Peace begins by making room for that which matters most.

So, will you join me in clearing the cluttered closet and the calloused heart?

The time Sarah and I experienced Bedouin Hospitality in the desert of Israel.