On the Road to Bethlehem

I happened to be reading GK Chesteron's Irish Impressions recently, and was very stuck by something he wrote:

The Irish Catholics, like other Christians, admit a mystery in the Holy Trinity, but they may almost be said to admit an experience in the Holy Family. Their historical experience, alas, has made it seem to them not unnatural that the Holy Family should be a homeless family. They also have found that there was no room for them at the inn, or anywhere but in the jail; they also have dragged their new-born babes out of their cradles, and trailed in despair along the road to Egypt, or at least along the road to exile. They also have heard in the dark and the distance behind them, the noise of the horsemen of Herod.

One of the typical Christmas decorations here in Ireland is a lit candle in each window of the house throughout the Christmas season. These are intended to light the journey of Mary and Joseph on their way to Bethlehem. In some parts of Ireland it was the tradition to take the candle from the window on Christmas Eve and place it in the middle of the kitchen floor. The door of the house would be left unlocked as an invitation for the Holy Family to stop for refreshment on their journey. Sigerson Clifford's Kerry Christmas Carol refers to this custom:

Brush the floor and clean the hearth,
And set the fire to keep,
For they might visit us tonight
When all the world’s asleep.

Don’t blow the tall white candle out
But leave it burning bright,
So that they’ll know they’re welcome here
This holy Christmas night.

Leave out the bread and meat for them,
And sweet milk for the Child,
And they will bless the fire, that baked
And, too, the hands that toiled.

For Joseph will be travel-tired,
And Mary pale and wan,
And they can sleep a little while
Before they journey on.

They will be weary of the roads,
And rest will comfort them,
For it must be many a lonely mile
From here to Bethlehem.

O long the road they have to go,
The bad mile with the good,
Till the journey ends on Calvary
Beneath a cross of wood.

Leave the door upon the latch,
And set the fire to keep,
And pray they’ll rest with us tonight
When all the world’s asleep.