I will be the first to tell you that there is no bigger critic of my small church’s Christmas pageant than me. In my humble opinion our pageant is a necessary evil that is always scraped together at the very last moment in order to please parents and and grandparent while annoying me to death. (Of course, I have been known to be prone to dramatics.)
I do not enjoy the bath robes, the people who read their lines from the paper that they got for the first time ten minutes ago, or the fact that I myself can never seem to play my part correctly aside from my own practicing. I do not like the choir arrangements that are both cheep and have poor musical arrangements and I absolutely abhor the hand bells. (Because no one can play them. No. One.)
Aside from all of my personal objections I understand that this pageant is not about how well we go through the actions of how the birth of Christ was described in a historic and holy text. (Because believe you me, if it were about talent and presentation someone would surly come in and shut us down.) It’s a lot less about presentation and how cute the kids look and a whole lot more about how we are going to give thanks for another year that we have lived in our lives underneath the grace that is Jesus Christ.
Because even though it’s not really anywhere near when he was probably born it’s important and even endearing that we can keep up a tradition that is so obviously flawed and painful for all parties involved. It’s important, it’s memorable, and it’s another reason to be glad that Jesus was born for us, not so that we could run around covered in glitter during the worst play ever preformed ever, but so that we can take a moment out of the church year where we don’t have to feel guilty, sad, or repressed and be glad that something has been done for us. We have been given freely a gift of redemption.
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