Nobody likes to imagine himself as the heavy in a Bible story.

It’s the reason you don’t see a lot of soccer ball decals on the back of minivans identifying one of the toddlers within as No. 12, Judas.

But the other day, I recognized the conditions under which I could tell a couple like Mary and Joseph that there’s no room at my inn for them and their soon-arriving baby.

I was sitting at home, which I hadn’t had the time to do for a few days because of a family schedule turned hectic. While seated, I was doing something else I hadn’t done for a while: sorting through the mail.

From among the sales brochures and bills emerged maybe half a dozen end-of-year solicitations from community non-profit groups.

Each was worthy. But after the first few, I began to imagine the envelopes as a line of people standing on my front porch with their hands out. Busy, distracted and feeling bad because I’m less able to give this year, I found myself in a, well, uncharitable mood.

Rising within me was the urge to tell them all “there’s no room at my financial inn.”

I suppose I could write this off to “donor fatigue” on my moral taxes, or excuse myself for focusing on my family. But at 58, I usually know when I’m lying to myself. And that brought me face-to-face with my inner innkeeper.

That may be one of the points of the story, anyway.

We all get worked up over Mary and Joseph being told there’s no room at the inn because of Jesus’ star power. The more enduring truth may be that their family is just one in a long line of poor families stretching back and presumably forward into eternity, who have been told the same thing in various ways.

And today they might be traveling with a shopping cart instead of a donkey.

At any rate, this recovering innkeeper is going to give what he can this year. And because I’m a little short, I’ve decided to enlist others’ help.

My parents aren’t thrilled about accumulating more stuff in their downsized home and are impossible to buy for, anyway. I’m not going to totally stiff them at Christmas. But the second or third gift will be a donation in their name to someone in greater need. I’m pretty sure that will please them.

You can do the same kind of thing. Most any charities will send out a card telling someone a gift has been received in his, her or their name, then add what the money will be used for.

In case you have trouble deciding where to give money, head on down to Springfield’s Covenant Presbyterian Church from 9:30 a.m to 1:30 p.m. today for their eighth Alternative Christmas Market.

It started when member Cynthia Nowka read a newsletter sent out by the Presbyterian church in Milwaukee where her son, 1994 North High graduate Rob Ater, is a pastor.

The market provides a handy list for shoppers.

For $5, the Clark County Literary Coalition can provide a reading activity book for a student. For $15, Clark County Habitat for Humanity can buy a doorknob and lock for a new home. The same amount will buy one days’ salary for a teacher for the Hearts With Haiti program or a well-stocked baby care bag to help parents who overnight at Interfaith Hospitality Network.

For $50, Project Jericho can provide dancing classes for a budding star, Project Woman can shelter a woman for a night in a safe place, and On-The-Rise can buy enough feed and hay for a city child’s 4-H goat project.

Those with $100 to spare can buy a summer school learning camp for a child in the Springfield Promise Neighborhood program or an anti-bullying class for 20 kindergartners at the Springfield Peace Center.

The market has “continued to build each year,” Nowka said. “Even with difficult economic times we’ve still been able to continue to grow,” to the point that more than $60,000 has been given to worthy causes.

It’s just what the season ordered for a recovering innkeeper like me.