Away in a Manger

Many years ago, I bought a small Polyresin crèche through a school fundraiser. I chose it because all of the characters were dark skinned; most crèches sold in the US have white characters, with perhaps a token black wise man. (I think it would have been interesting if this crèche had included a token white wise man, or maybe an Asian.) When it arrived, one of the figures was broken, and while I’m sure the company would have replaced it if I had asked, I was able to repair it with a little glue.

When I was a kid we used to play with our nativity—a little. My dad thought he was hilarious when he would put the sheep up on the roof of the rustic stable; Mom was less amused. Several of our current crèches are “interactive,” or at least unbreakable, and the kids have played with them—gently— over the years. When the bio kids were younger I allowed each kid to select a nativity to put in their rooms, but as they got older they were no longer interested. This year each of the younger kids got a set; I gave Lewi the set with the black figures, and he promptly broke off the glued head, and then a second figurine’s head, which led to a one-sided conversation on the difference between figurines and action figures.

Over the years I’ve amassed quite a collection of nativities, most of them created in other countries and purchased in stores that support overseas artisans. I also pick them up at “regular” stores at a deep discount in the days following Christmas, and I rescue them at estate sales. One of my favorites, which cost a dollar at a garage sale, is from Poland. It’s unusual in that it only includes Mary and the baby. I kind of like the image of Mary alone with her child, pondering things in her heart.

Each culture and artist offers a unique and beautiful perspective on the holy family and those who visited the stable. There’s a lot of variety, but it’s interesting how similar they can be. Stereotypically, Mary kneels, hands on her chest; Joseph stands, often leaning on a staff; the Magi, full of dignity, carry their wares; and there is always, always a donkey.

Often the most interesting figures are the angels, because they tend to look like they are flying, singing, announcing— doing something besides staring at the baby. They are almost always depicted as feminine and sweet, a contrast to the biblical record. The only two angels mentioned by name in the Bible are male, and since angels tend to begin their announcements with the words “Fear not,” it seems to me that there must be something awe-inspiring and a little bit intimidating about angels.

Angels bring good news, but with that good news there is change, which can be more than a little scary. And they don’t hang around as protectors and guides, helping God’s favored ones to navigate the difficult aspects of the task they’ve been handed. They say their piece and leave, leaving the humans to figure it out and face the future.

But the message of the angels stays with us. Fear not: you can do this, because God is with you. Fear not: in the darkest hours, in the saddest times, God is with you. Fear not, even in the face of the impossible, because with God, nothing will be impossible. Fear not. The road will not be easy, but it will be blessed.