They need a baby Jesus
My mother is a special mother and this is why: she is respectful of my many boundaries. Early in November she called and said, “I don’t want to overstep any boundaries but… They need a baby Jesus.”
“Of course they do,” I said. “It’s the way we humans work. A tangible reminder of the holy is always nice this time of year.”
In our house we over think this fact. Who are we if we say YES? What are we really saying about the infallibility or historic value of the birth of Jesus if we say we will wrap our little girl in a piece of cloth and pretend she is the Christ child? If we say NO, we shy away from the invitation to take a place of honor among the children and families trying earnestly to remember Immanuel in the midst of December’s consumer chaos. Citing theological differences rarely brings us closer to becoming the Beloved Community. I needed to at least collect some data and it’s much easier to put on a costume than do research (especially for a family with a newborn).
The day of the pageant there was no Joseph in sight. We noticed the irony in this but finally gave in to the romance of a traditional tableau. Turns out we were going to need all hands on deck. Nathan reluctantly donned a scratchy poncho and joined Pazita and I in our blue and white cotton yardage. As we entered the hall I heard a little voice rise up: “Is it a real baby?!”
“Yes. We got a real baby!” I heard. They began to sing Silent Night and Pazita, who had been cooing quietly for the last 30 minutes began to scream as if she’d been poked by a piece of straw-just like a real baby- maybe just like the real Jesus. Our Pazita, Joy of Man’s Desiring, pitched a fit and there was nothing the reluctant father figure nor the inexperienced new mother could do about it, try as we might.
The angels and Centurians forgot the words to Silent Night and the melody faded into the sounds of cacophonous midday. Shepherds and cardboard sheep looked on in a mixture of empathy and surprise.
As I look back on that day, almost four years ago, I find it easier to believe that Mary pondered all these things in her heart; not because I need her story to have happened exactly as written but because I need to know that pondering is not any less important than knowing. I’ve studied the dangers of idolatry and often questioned traditions like Christmas pageants that make us believe that the most important question about Jesus’ story was whether or not it all really happened exactly as it is written. But in my heart I hear the Latin phrase Imago Dei: Image of God. It’s simply the idea that we all bear the image of God. Perhaps this means that each of us is invited to take a place of honor-not because we are perfect but because we are real.
The pageant coordinators at my mom’s church wanted Pazita with them because she was real, not because she was perfect. She delivered: her humanity interrupted their silent night. Empathy and surprise broke down the facade and what was pageantry became an unexpected show of real humanity. Nathan and I were no longer able to pretend this was a perfectly happy child of a perfectly happy couple.
I guess my mother failed. She hadn’t meant to overstep boundaries but all kinds of walls fell down that day. Pazita's floodgates opened and alligator tears tumbled down the face of God.
And here is what I learned: If somebody invites me to be the Christ among them, I’d better say yes. The challenge is to remember that the holidays may mean a breach of decorum or a change of boundaries. We may disturb the peace, because we are human, because we bear the Image of God and it need not be a stumbling block. It may, rather, be an invitation for us to see Life, Spirit, Immanuel, God with us.
© Abigail Vizcarra Perez 2017
