By Rev. Geoff Leslie, Barham Baptist

Renovators pulling up the old lino at the Bethlehem hotel rear kitchen found this fascinating diary from one of the earlier innkeepers. Let me share a few extracts.

The diary starts with these rules of the trade.

"Hospitality rules: 1. Always give the customer what they want.

2. Choose your customers carefully. (Avoid single mothers, Samaritans, Egyptians and backpackers.)

Then the last page has this remarkable entry:. "I am so different now, my old Dad would disown me. This bloke turned up today. He was one of them half-caste Samaritans that I would have sneered at once. And he's nurse-maiding a very dodgy looking chap who he claims was beaten up by robbers on the road to Jericho, which he wants me to look after - on credit!. Time was when I'd say, "I offer hospitality not hospital. Get back on your donkey." But no, I hardly notice a bloke's race anymore, I feel for people, and I love to help. So I take the sick bloke to a room and wave good-bye to the Samaritan who says he'll be back to pay the bill. Frankly, it wouldn't worry me if he doesn't come back. I don't dream of making a pile anymore, just of making a difference. See entry 30 years ago, December 24 for why I've changed."

So a flick back through the diary finds this story on December 24: "Augustus Caesar's big census has made this place so overcrowded that a tent city has sprung up on the footy oval - all these northerners coming back for registration. One chap though ignored my 'No Vacancy' sign this morning, and pleaded for a room for his pregnant wife. Somehow the poor, little weary woman on the donkey got under my guard, and I wanted to help. I offered them the little shack out the back, and I'd just got them set up when she goes into labour. I get straight out of there and calls the missus and after a while she calls me in to see this beautiful little boy lying in the donkey's feed trough on the straw, all bound up with cloth my wife had to find because they'd brought nothing with them. Then later tonight, Snake the drover from Bethlehem Downs turned up with a sheep and a few of his hard-drinking mates asking if there was a baby here lying in a manger. When I told him that it just so happened there was if he cared to take a look around the back, he gave us a speech about this baby. "God has sent this kid to be a champion to follow. This kid has come to set the world right", said Snake, "so there'll be food for the hungry, jobs for the unemployed, and houses for the old folks." All sounded a bit left wing but we gave three cheers anyway."

At a later date, the diary tells of three foreign travellers on camels who' ve come to the inn looking for this same baby, and as they are leaving they say some spooky things to the innkeeper: 'As my three foreign guest are leaving, I'm holding the door open for them, and one of them, a black guy, looks me in the eye for a moment then says, "You too have worshipped the child-king. May the Great World-maker bless you for your kindness and for opening your heart." Then the Persian chap stares at me as he's passing over the threshold, "Now that the child has opened your heart to mercy and kindness, do not let fear or weariness close it again." Well, this was nice, I like a few tips from the Wise. But the third bloke, the pale fellow, someone said he calls himself a Saxon, his words chilled me to the bone. "On our journey, we met a King who was viciously vain and dangerous. We have been told in dreams that we must avoid his abode. And you - may you be strong and courageous - for we saw a great shadow of darkness winging this way. Good-bye."

That gave me something to puzzle over, I tell you.'

A few days later, we read:

"It's been quiet since the little family left us, but this morning a squadron of soldiers marched into town and then we heard screaming. I run outside and a woman clutching a baby to her breast is hurrying past. "What' s going on?" I ask and she says, "The soldiers are killing the children - they're looking for a child-king". I have an idea. "Follow me", I says, and I lead her around the back to the same recently-used shed. "You'll be able to hide here", I assure her. Later I sent several others to hide in there as well. Soldiers came - searched the inn - found no children. They eventually rode off. As the women come out from the hay shed, they thank me and one says, "It was a wonderful place actually - it felt safe .almost holy." "O it is!", I said, "A very holy place!" There's just one other part of the diary I'll mention. It's on the inside back cover.

It says, 'New hospitality rules:

1. Kindness and mercy are worth more than money

2. Listen with an open heart.

3. When it gets hard to keep your heart open, remember the child-king.