Category Archives: Church

About God and Christmas

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Circa December 2004: Every Sunday School play needs a wise man (Simon), Joseph (Tim) and, of course, a Russian named Boris (Gil)

[Because I love this story from 2002, it’s another Throwback Thursday. Enjoy.]

Some of the most interesting discussions can be overhead from the backseat of a minivan. Sometimes parents are even invited to contribute. The other day as we were on our way to our Sunday School Christmas concert dress rehearsal, my ears perked up at the conversation that was going on behind me. Gil had taken that moment to educate his brothers about what mammals were.

“We’re mammals, aren’t we, Mom?” Gil called for confirmation. Tim, who was in Christmas concert mode and not quite following the conversation, gave the two of us a confused look when I confirmed Gil’s statement. The confusion became obvious to us when he protested, “But I thought we were shepherds!”

Gil responded by telling Tim that people were mammals. But Tim wasn’t leaving Christmas concert mode that easy. “So are shepherds mammals?” he queried. In the qualitative style of a scientist, he then proceeded through the entire cast of nativity characters, asking if each one in turn were also a mammal. Yes, sheep were mammals. Camels, too. No, not angels. And then came the inevitable question.

“So is Jesus a mammal?” By this time Tim was enjoying his goofy repartee immensely. But when Gil answered Tim by saying, “No, Jesus wasn’t a mammal. He’s God,” I had to gently correct our little theologian. Yes, Jesus is God, but when he was a man on earth, he was a mammal, too. 

What parent on their way to a Sunday School Christmas concert could pass up a teaching moment like that one? I explained to the boys that the whole reason we celebrate Christmas is because Jesus came down from heaven and became a mammal just like one of us and that even though he is God, he knows what’s it’s like to be a human being, too.

The boys gave me their token attention, and then digressed into what the difference was between mammals and birds. Gil’s qualification, which for some unknown reason involved the number of times a day a bird goes “poop”, had me making a mental note to spend more time on Science after Christmas.

As Gil continued to “educate” his younger brothers, I marveled at how easy it is for the little ones to believe. In their childlike way, they have the faith to accept that Jesus, who is God, was also once a man. By that same token, it is sometimes impossible for adults to acknowledge the same fact.

Whether it’s Jesus or Santa Claus, Adam and Eve or the Big Bang, everyone wants to believe in something. And when you think about it, maybe the whole idea of Jesus being born a child of poverty in a stable, the humblest of births, is not such a far-fetched idea after all. God made his Son accessible to everyone by making him a mammal, in his own way like both a lamb and a shepherd. During this season of wonder, it’s time to enter into the amazing reason we celebrate Christmas in the first place.

About Church and Christmas

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In the very small town where I grew up there were two churches, one little and one big. My family went to the little church.

And when I say family, I mean it. Not just my immediate family but aunts, uncles, cousins. And neighbors that were like family from our very small town. And when I say little church, I mean that, too. We filled up that very small church every Sunday.

On Sundays, we entered quietly, reverently, craning our necks to look back to see who was whispering so loud before the service started, or worse, laughing. Not that laughing was bad, it just wasn’t part of the proper preparation in waiting for the priest to parade from the back of the little church. But talking, visiting and yes, laughing, were definitely heard after we had paid God his attention, after the climax of the Sunday story – holy communion – had taken place. First communion with God, then with our family and friends.

Going to church was a part of the fabric of our lives, but living in a very small town, the church building itself belonged to us in special way. It was very normal to enter the church on a Sunday, but if we were to go in on another day of the week, it felt different to me, like I wasn’t sure where to stand or what volume of voice to use. But I welcomed it, those odd times of meeting there and the feelings it created in me.

Every year before Christmas, my mother and aunties and almost-aunties would get together to clean the church, enlisting any of their children who were around to help wash the windows and polish the pews. I’m sure it was done more often, but perhaps I remember this best because it preceded decorating the church for Christmas. It was exciting to change the landscape where we worshipped, to anticipate the birthday of the Christ child once more.

I loved being in that church on not-Sundays – the weightlessness of standing around the altar where usually only the priest and altar servers walked and the giddiness of being somewhere sacred and secret. And at Christmas, we would descend into the old basement to retrieve the annual decorations, the most fascinating being the small nativity scene that would be set up on the communion table, the small figures watching as parishioners came in and placed their host in the cup, like the taking of attendance.

It was my first nativity set that I remember. Long before Christmas decorations started multiplying in stores like Helga Hufflepuff’s cup in a vault in Gringotts, the same precious decorations were brought out year after year, with no thought of replacing them. Because they were part of the tradition itself, not just decorating, but remembering, cherishing. Maybe it wasn’t my first nativity set that I saw, but it was the first one I was allowed to touch, as we set it up on the table.

One of the wise men had lost his head. (Well, wouldn’t you if you met God in a manger? Though it seems rather funny – a wise man without a head.) No matter, he still counted – his body was there. It was small, but the whole set was small. Not much shuffling on the table was necessary to include this stable scene that reminded us all of Jesus’ humble beginnings as a man-baby.

The placement of the figures was important, it was part of the alchemy of Advent: the wise men three at one side, shepherds and sheep to the other. The angel with a tiny hook on a tiny nail at the apex of the stable roof. Mary and Joseph flanking the tiny little babe, center stage, like God is supposed to be. I was very young, but I always remembered how it was supposed to go.

I have two nativity sets now and I use the same guiding principles when I set them up. I take attendance as I pull them out of the boxes where they live hidden but waiting. I love how they represent everyone – families, blue collar workers, professionals, animals – and God. Everyone may not be related, but they come together in small spaces and represent the same thing every time: a family.

God’s family. Everyone is included. Even if you lost your head – you are welcome, you are part of the family. Even if you are dressed kind of odd or shabby and you stink like sheep poop – you are welcome, you are part of the family. Even if your beginnings aren’t perfect – that’s not his real dad, you know – you are welcome, you are part of the family. And yes, sheep and camels and all manner of animal friends are part of the family, too.

Angels above us. God with us. In a very small stable in a very small church in a very small town, but representing Everywhere.