As a kid, I
always loved the book The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. When I became a teacher,
I was thrilled to discover a class set of it in the book room that I was able
to drag out and read with my classes each year at Christmas time. And this
year, I bought a copy to read with my children.
It had been
awhile since I had read the story. I mostly remembered the wild, crazy Herdman
children, and I thought a couple of my wild, crazy children would appreciate
their characters. What I did NOT remember were the church people.
I doubt I
even noticed those characters much as a child, or even as a young, foolish,
beginning teacher. But I certainly noticed them now! Noticed them, and was
appalled.
Appalled
because I KNOW THOSE PEOPLE.
Appalled
because I AM THOSE PEOPLE.
I AM Alice
Wendleken, with her superior attitude, thinking that looking the right way, and
talking the right way, and knowing all the right stuff is what being a Christian
is all about. Because “Christ-follower” and “good person/productive citizen/having a
moral compass” sometimes all starts to feel like the same thing.
And I AM Mrs.
Armstrong, who thinks that her way is absolutely, without a doubt the BEST way,
and who, I suspect, finds a whole lot of her value/worth in “serving” all over
the place without ever actually managing to become a servant.
And most of
all, I AM the father and the brother and all the other members of the
congregation who feel that they’ve heard all of this before, seen all of this
before, done all of this before; they know all there is to know, especially
when it comes to the Christmas story.
I found
myself in tears at the end of the book as I saw that nativity scene through the
eyes of the Herdmans—a wild and crazy crew, sure, but one who hadn’t gotten
numb to the biblical account of Jesus’s birth. It made me wonder how this
happened! And when! HOW LONG have I been reading Luke 2 and singing Christmas
carols without even noticing the enormity of the sacrifice Jesus is making
here?
When I
really started looking, I saw how easy it had been to miss it. After all,
listen to the Christmas carols we sing!
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
But was it
really? Was it really silent and calm? I doubt it. Mary was giving birth in a
barn, surrounded by animals who probably smelled less than fragrant, with no
epidural and no warm water pool. I bet that night was hectic, and stressful,
and loud, and messy. And the nights to follow were probably not much better.
Learning to nurse? No picnic. Mary probably hit that breaking point where she
was in tears from exhaustion from being woken up 100 times a night by her
newborn. She might have gotten mastitis like many other new moms. She might
have lost her temper with Joseph after sleeping on a barn floor for several days
in a row.
How about “Away
in a Manger”?
The cattle are lowing, the baby
awakes
But little Lord Jesus, no crying he
makes
Really? Are
we sure about that? Baby Jesus didn’t cry? Because Jesus was FULLY HUMAN. That
means he cried, just like any other baby! He got hungry, got the hiccups, had
gas, spit up, pooped, got diaper rash…! He did ALL of it.
I’ve been so
guilty of turning this story into some cheesy Hallmark special. I’ve taken out
all the mundane, messy, HUMAN stuff and left Jesus as a SUPER BABY with
ultra-special, barely-human parents. Somehow, I guess I thought that made a
better story. But really, it just waters it down.
WHAT A SACRIFICE
to become FULLY human. To choose to be raised by inexperienced, fully human,
fallible parents. To live through the reflux, and teething, and snot, and diarrhea,
and scraped knees, and body odor, and acne, and hormones, and… and… and… AND
ALL OF IT.
WHAT an AMAZING,
LIFE-CHANGING,
MOOD-ALTERING,
PRIDE-SMASHING,
PRIORITY-CHANGING,
JOYOUS,
LOVING,
WONDERFUL story.
Merry Christmas.
