The Day of the Nativity Play

Sermon by the Revd Dr Brutus Green

Dies irae, dies illa. The day of wrath, that day. Today is that day which is looked forward to. Dies illa. The Day of the nativity play. It is a day of reckoning for vicars. You never know what you are going to get. What, you ask, if no children turn up? Do you coax adults into the roles? Easily done with the kings. Men usually enjoy a bit of dressing up, and a king is a strong, masculine figure. Adults look a little more ridiculous as angels and stars though, and although there are many contenders for the position of donkey at St Margaret, it would be very hard to choose. Fortunately, the position is solved by Zz who makes a good to scale donkey for children. I can see each year he looks at me with searching eyes: ‘Again?’ He seems to ask.

Christmas is, I think, then designed as a test of faith. It’s the time of year when traditionally we bring together children, animals and fire. Dies irae, dies illa. And we’re not even at the Christingle yet. And then there’s Mary. There’s something about Mary. You see the little eyes look up, flickering at the prized blue hood, asking, “this year, is it me?” Who am I to crush these dreams? You imagine the therapy, years later, “well it all started with the vicar: I was sure I was to be Mary, but somehow the fool made me ‘second innkeeper.’”

It’s worth reflecting that some little girls never get to play Mary. Not a fate that beset Rhiannon who reprised the role eighteen times due to a series of unexplained stage accidents affecting other would-be performers, long after she had left primary school.

It’s easier being a boy. No one is ever that bothered about being Joseph.

But the nativity play is important. People often remember their part for the rest of their lives. And you can tell. There’s a game you can play with people – guessing the instrument they played at school from their appearance. Thin stick-like people often played the flute. Neurotic, geeky types, the violin. The awkward and bullied are always given a viola, which seems particularly cruel. Lads and tomboys are at the back in the brass. I don’t need to give the type for singers.

But perhaps it’s the same for the nativity, the parts you play come to define you. It’s a terrifying thought. I never made it beyond shepherd, which seems a very safe part for a boy. But not very ambitious. Maries may find it difficult to understand why the world is not paying homage to them.

But the nativity is actually important as it begins for us the process of identifying with biblical characters. The Bible is a book which is constantly trying to draw you in. It’s written as the stories of our forebears, our people; It’s saying this is how you got to be here today, and this is what awaits you. It wants you to listen to listen to Jesus; to go with him to Jerusalem; to be there at the cross, in incomprehension and grief; to experience the resurrection and rejoice.

So at Christmas we can experience the different parts, possibly over a lifetime. We may know the exasperating difficulty of pregnancy and having to travel; or the guilt, the fear, the concern of being with that person, trying to make it easier. Luke – in his Gospel is always concerned with the poor – and so wants us to imagine it as the poorest in society; The shepherds, who come as the first to recognise the baby as God with us. Matthew, who is more concerned with Jesus as the king of the Jews, has the kings of other nations come to recognise and bow before him. The angels look on Mary – in awe and wonder; In praise? In jealousy?

As children, as adults, we can all recognise the vulnerability of a new child in the world. The children will sing ‘Little Donkey’ at the beginning of the Nativity play today which I think is especially appropriate. There’s something about the plaintive hee-haw of the tune, and the Eeyore like lyrics, That’s a little self-indulgent. You always get the feeling the donkey feels he’s having the most difficult Christmas. When I hear people complaining about how busy Christmas is I think, “ah, a little donkey.” “Giddy-up donkey”, I say. Let’s get Christmas done.

So whether we’re children, new parents, poor hard working labourers, wise people from abroad, donkeys or angels, And let me tell you a secret, St Margaret’s does have one or two but I can’t tell you who – the Gospel builds on our experiences and finds new ways of bringing us to the manger. So hear the story again this Christmas, let it be our care and delight to hear again the message of the angels and in heart and mind to go even unto Bethlehem, past the second innkeeper and third lobster, the ferocious Tiger of Bethlehem, and see this thing that has come to pass and the Babe lying in a manger. And perhaps the Christmas story will speak again to us and build in us the joy and wonder of the holy child. Amen.