The BEST Christmas EVER

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.