One of the best aspects of the Christmas
season is the parish Nativity pageant. It also goes by other names, such as
Christmas pageant, Nativity play, or Les
Misérables (which describes the parents who have to explain to the pastor
why they thought it was a good idea to bring live farm animals into the church
sanctuary, one of whom just deposited some steaming tidings of comfort and joy
right on the new carpeting).
The format for most Christmas pageants
is similar. The younger children in the parish C.C.D. program volunteer to play
the parts, oftentimes volunteering just like privates in the army when a
sergeant points at them and says, “Congratulations, you just volunteered!”
There are many important parts in the
play, none more crucial than St. Joseph. Although he has no lines and does not
move from his spot next to the crèche, it takes a very special fourth grade boy
to play this part. He must have a dignified appearance; he must refrain from
suddenly running over to inspect the steaming pile of comfort and joy deposited
by the farm animal, as all the other impulsive fourth-grader shepherds just
did; and most of all, he must resist the urge to die of embarrassment while
sitting right next to a fourth grade girl playing the part of his wife, who no
doubt is infected with a severe case of the dreaded “cooties,” while all his shepherd
friends point at him and giggle.
The role of Mary is important, too.
Especially if one of the parents, usually the same parent who thought the live
farm animals was a good idea, decides it would be wonderfully authentic if the
part of Jesus is played by a real live human infant rather than a toy doll. Therefore,
the fourth grade girl who plays the part of Mary not only must exude holiness,
she has to know how to hold an infant without giving him whiplash, and how to keep
her cool when the little tyke starts screaming at the top of his lungs—which
definitely was not in the script, but you know how temperamental three-month
old show business celebrities are.
When the infant starts screaming and
flailing, the actual mother of the child, who has been nervously waiting in the
wings wondering how she ever let herself be talked into this, tip-toes out to
the center of the action to try and calm her baby. For some reason, adults who
need to assist wayward junior thespians during the middle of a performance
think if they tip-toe and bend at the waist while on stage then no one in the
audience can see them. They are wrong.
The climax of the action occurs when the
final three actors make their grand entrance. That’s right, it’s time for the
Magi, the Three Kings, bringing their gifts of an empty shoebox wrapped in gold
paper, an empty shoebox wrapped in silver paper, and an empty shoebox wrapped
in the Sunday comics.
The great thing about parish Nativity
pageants is that no matter how much the performance deviates from the script,
no matter how much the farm animals or infants or distracted shepherds try to
steal scenes by ad-libbing, the show is always a rousing success. This is
because the story itself is so compelling: the Creator God of the Universe
decided to take on human flesh in order to save mankind, and He did it in the
most unexpected and humble manner.
So, make sure you attend your parish’s
Nativity pageant this year. And watch out for that steaming pile of comfort and
joy.
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