My last name
is Wiseman. And I have two sisters. We grew up in the church as the three
Wiseman sisters. So you can guess which kids were always picked to play the “Three
Wisemen” in the annual Christmas Nativity play at church. It drove me insane.
All I wanted was to be a shepherd and wear a bathrobe with a towel wrapped
around my head – but the directors of all of these plays thought it was
adorable to let the 3 Wiseman girls play the 3 wisemen since it would be “so
cute.”
As I grew up
and went into ministry I got a bit bothered by the purée of Gospel that is the typical
church nativity play. We take some shepherds being visited by an Angel from
Luke, add some magi and a star leading them to the baby from Matthew, and the
inn keeper from out of thin air. And we get a Nativity created out of Gospel purée.
It is familiar to most of us – and at the same time it is not quite accurate to
the story.
This week, I
went to a Christmas Program and nativity play at my son’s parochial school and
he played one of the wisemen – once again because the director thought it would
be “so cute” for him to play the role. We had an angel visit the Shepherds,
Magi visiting from the east (three of course, even though there is no evidence
that there were actually three), and an innkeeper who allowed Mary and Joseph
to stay in a stable out back for the birth of Jesus because no rooms were available in the inn. And I survived.
As a biblically trained minister and scholar of practical theology – I survived.
One reason I
survived – with little to no reaction – was that I had just experienced
something so moving it made me weep. The little kids had sung a song about
peace. They were Kindergarten and First Graders – all dressed up in red, green,
and white with their hair (for the most part) just right and their smiles so
big they lit up the room. And as they sang, I thought about the 20 little kids
who were killed last week in Newtown, CT. The similarities were eerie. There
were a few little boys with mussed up hair and little girls with bows and
hairclips. There were missing front teeth and fidgety bodies. There were
beaming parents with handheld video cameras catching every moment of their song
– a song about peace. It was almost too much to bear.
But I heard
the words and saw the smiles of the kids and parents and knew we were
experiencing a moment of amazing grace. Many of these parents had hugged their
little ones more tightly over the last week and prayed for those who couldn’t
do that anymore. Many of those kids had asked if they were safe at school and
their parents and teachers did all they could to reassure them.
Many of them
were unaware why the audience seemed to react more to them than to any other
group singing that night – but we all “got it.” We saw the little faces of “our”
kids but were symbolically seeing the little ones from Newtown. When the crowd
applauded louder than normal – the kids took an extra bow. And we knew why we
were so touched. I doubt they did but it was profoundly powerful.
The entire
show was full of big smiles, cute kids, one or two out of tune singers, a few forgotten
words to songs, parents beaming and catching every second on digital memory
cards. And it was a sign that we can continue to live fully – even in the midst
of the mess of death and horror – and that God is with us in the midst of our
grief.
We prayed
for those families and lit a candle in remembrance. But we did not need that to
bring the irony of these adorable little kids in front of us to remember but
what a gift to witness their spirit and delight.
And at the
same time to be reminded that we have to be better … we have to end this
horror.
Thanks for your thoughts, reflections and memories. Inspiring on the eve of preaching "a week after."
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