“The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee…”—Phillips Brooks
Every night on my way home from work at this time of year, I used to pass a festive lawn display in Goffstown that was the ultimate in diversity and inclusion. One year, at the center of it all was the traditional Nativity scene of Jesus in the manger with Mary and Joseph. But then they were surrounded by Santa and his sleigh, Rudolph, angels, The Grinch, the wise men, elves, old-fashioned carolers, sheep, Frosty, the obligatory pink flamingo lawn ornament, and Kevin from Home Alone.
Invariably, at the end of the day, I needed that smile or good laugh as I drove by. It reminded me to leave the workday behind and not to take everything so seriously. “Lighten up, exhale, and be grateful for life and breath.”
That lawn display is in stark contrast to the simplicity of the one at home under the tree, where all of the pieces are fixed in place, with the exception of the removable angel over the manger who the kids named “Gloria.” I like that Gloria is removable. It reminds me that angels and God’s presence go wherever I go.
I also like how the scene is either before or after the visit of the shepherds. Silent night. I like how unlike many Nativity scenes, there are no wise men with their camels and unusual gifts; as it should be, since they apparently didn’t arrive on the scene until several months (or years?) later.
I like how there is only one animal — the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world — resting at Jesus’ feet.
I like the sense of the thunderous silence and a million thoughts that must have been running through Mary’s and Joseph’s heads in this rustic atmosphere that fueled a gigantic, symphonic celebration in Heaven.
I like that Mary is on her knees with hands outstretched, maybe pondering in her heart the hopeful words of the angel: “You will give birth to a son and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and be called the Son of the Most High.” (Luke 1:31-32). And Joseph with his hand over his heart, perhaps remembering the fear of hearing Mary’s pregnancy news and pondering divorce so she wouldn’t have to face public disgrace (Matthew 1:19), and yet grateful beyond words that he got the same message from the angel as Mary: “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21-22)
"What child IS this?!"
And even Jesus, with tiny hands upraised. A baby’s cry? No doubt... the Word became flesh, after all. But maybe also this promise of comfort and joy: ”Here I am. I have come to do Your will.” (Hebrews 10:9)
Most of all, I like this different nativity that brings a different kind of smile, realizing that each character in it is worshiping, and remembering that worship and trust in the everlasting God means it’s not contingent upon being in a good mood or when you have everything figured out, but just as needed and appropriate and powerful in the midst of life’s questions and uncertainties. Maybe more so.
I still enjoy a belly laugh from things like that crazy holiday display. But just like Mary and Joseph with their hopes and fears, the old Nativity under my tree is a reminder that it’s OK to admit that some things are beyond figuring out, that Christmas means it’s good and healthy to be real before God, to embrace the mystery of all mysteries, to believe once more, to sing “Glory in the highest!” with Gloria the goes-everywhere angel...and to live to worship in every season, long after the tree comes down and the decorations get boxed up for another year.
"We live in a world full of sin and hurt and sadness and confusion; the gospel answers all of it, but it doesn't twinkle it away like pixie dust...The hope of the gospel is not clarity in our confusion, but the knowledge that God is at work in spite of the fact that we don't understand what He is up to."
Updated from original, 12-22-19
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