Favorite Carols: "Away in a Manger"
“No crib for a bed”
Unknown
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This is the third article I’ve written about my favorite Christmas carols. The first was a popular canticle in the nineteenth century, but rarely sung these days: “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman.” The second was a classic that continues to enjoy widespread acclaim, even if it’s often truncated in our singing: “We Three Kings.” This year, I offer another classic, one taught to children early in life since they are the objects of the baby Jesus’s love: “Away in a Manger.”
The nativity of Jesus is so well-known it often causes many of us to yawn through Christmas readings, pageants, and carols. And Luke’s telling of the story is so simple and straightforward it belies the majesty of that holy birth. In fact, Luke confines the delivery narrative to two short verses: “While [Joseph and Mary] were [in Bethlehem], the days were completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7–8).
That’s it. Bethlehem. Blanket. Bed.
That’s all we’re told about Jesus’s birth—until we look a little closer. When we do, we discover there’s more going on than what Luke reveals on the surface. Each carries a significant, if subtle, message about the reason why Jesus was born.
The place of Jesus’s nativity wasn’t just Joseph’s hometown. Bethlehem was the birthplace of Israel’s greatest king, “the city of David” (v. 4). It was where Messiah—God’s Anointed One—was to be born. So said the prophet Micah.
“But as for you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
Too little to be among the clans of Judah,
From you One will go forth from Me to be ruler in Israel.
His goings forth are from long ago,
From the days of eternity.” (5:2)
It was where Jesus was born, of whom the angel Gabriel said, “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end” (Luke 1:32–33).
Bethlehem was just down the hill and down the road from the king’s city, Jerusalem, just six miles away. Because of its proximity to Jerusalem’s temple, the pasturelands surrounding Bethlehem were filled with flocks of sacrificial sheep. When the angels made their heavenly announcement of Jesus’s birth to the “shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flocks by night” (2:8) the angels probably spoke to shepherds hired to tend sheep destined to die.
The blanket, or swaddling cloths, is familiar to every mother of a newborn. Mothers in the first century were not different than mothers in the twenty-first century in wrapping their children in blankets. At the time of Jesus’s birth, there were two methods to swaddling a wiggling newborn. Some swaddling cloths looked like baby blankets we might use today, with one notable exception—a long bandage-like strip coming from one corner. Mary would have wrapped Jesus’s body in the blanket portion first, then would have wound the strip of fabric around His arms and legs to keep Him snuggly.
The other type of swaddling cloth consisted of many strips of long fabric. In a similar fashion, if this is all she had, Mary would have wrapped each of Jesus’s arms and legs, to keep them straight, and finishing with a final wrapping over His entire tiny frame.
Whichever method Mary used to swaddle baby Jesus the image is evocative—especially during that day and in that culture—for swaddling cloths were also used to bundle the dead. So, whether we’re talking about those who have come to the beginning of their lives or those who have come to the ending of their lives, the wrapping was the same.
Now, let’s talk about Jesus’s “bed” for a moment. We know Jesus wasn’t born in a dwelling. Luke said “there was no room for [Mary and Joseph] in the inn” (v. 7), which in this case, despite popular perceptions, doesn’t refer to a hotel-like building. Rather, what Luke had in mind was either a private home or a public shelter where many people gathered for the night. And since Jesus was “laid . . . in a manger” (v. 7) we know He was born in some sort of animal shelter. This could have either been a stable—a wooden structure next to a home or public shelter—or a cave. If He was born in a stable He was probably placed in a wooden feeding trough. But if He was born in a cave He would have been placed in a stone trough—a ledge cut into the side of the cave wall and hollowed out to hold hay and feed.
Caves dot the landscape of Bethlehem and Jerusalem, so a stony nursery is a distinct possibility. Ancient tradition ascribes Jesus’s birth in a cave. In the fourth century, during the reign of Constantine, a basilica was erected over a cave, at the site of the Church of the Nativity.
Jews of the first century, when Jesus was born, used caves to shelter animals and to shelter the dead from animals. A typical Jewish cave burial consisted of wrapping the body in strips of linen and placing it on a rock-cut ledge that resembled a bed.
Bethlehem. Blanket. Bed.
Each foreshadowed something tragic on that evening of joy. Jesus told His disciples, “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost. . . . to give His life [as] a ransom for many” (19:10; Mark 10:45). He was born with the shadow of the cross across His cherubed face. He was born to die. That’s the tragedy foreshadowed by Bethlehem, blanket, and bed. So does one of the most beloved lullabies of the yuletide season: “Away in a Manger.”
A version of the poem first appeared in print on December 24, 1868, in the Protestant Churchman newspaper in a story called, “A Christmas Story. Founded on Fact.”
The stars from the deep sky
Looked down where He lay,—
The little Lord Jesus,
Asleep on the hay!
Away in a manger,
No crib for His bed,
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down His sweet Head.
After that, the poem disappeared from public view, until January 4, 1882, when it reappeared in The Congregationalist, a religious paper published in Boston. This time, the poem was introduced with the title, “Luther’s Cradle Song,” along with his editorial: “The following hymn composed by Martin Luther for his children is still sung by many of the German mothers to their little ones.” That was all hokum—cleaver marketing to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Luther’s birth in 1883. German mothers never sang the hymn because they didn’t know the hymn, because Luther didn’t write the hymn. The poem was probably penned by an American and put to the tune “St. Kilda” by J. E. Clark.
It was first published as a song in the Evangelical Lutheran song book: Little Children’s Book for Schools and Family (1885). The stanza beginning with “Be near me, Lord Jesus” was written by Charles H. Gabriel, music director of Grace Methodist Episcopal Church and first appeared in Gabriel’s Vineyard Songs (1892). Since then “Away in a Manger” has become one of the best loved and best known carols of the season—a Christmas lullaby.
The first three stanzas remind us of the incarnation of Jesus at the nativity. These lines evoke the cave in Bethlehem, of Jesus’s swaddling cloths, and his stone-hollowed bed. They remind us of what Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 18:3).
The last three stanzas remind us of the glorification of Jesus at His death, resurrection, and ascension. These lines evoke the cave in Jerusalem, of Jesus’s burial cloths, and his stone-ledged bed. They remind us of what the angels said to the women who came to the tomb on that Sunday morning: “He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you . . . that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day” (Luke 24:6).
Bethlehem. Blanket. Bed. And the yuletide lullaby “Away in the Manger” all remind us of the womb-like cave and the caved-darkened tomb—and the glorious resurrection of the Babe of Bethlehem.
That there was no room in the inn was symbolic of what was to come, for the only place where there was room for “the little Lord Jesus” was on a cross and in a tomb. Though He sought entry as Messiah and King into the overcrowded hearts of those first century Jews, He found no room there. He searches still—and is rejected still. My prayer for you, during this yuletide season, as you hear and sing “Away in a Manger,” is that you make room in your overcrowded heart for the Babe who had “no crib for his bed” but who can “fit us for heaven to live with [Him] there.”
Merry Christmas, y’all.
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Mr.Jeter have a blessed and peaceful Christmas. Our circumstances may seem lowly sometimes but we are the children of the King !