Christmas Under Another Name: La Natividad

We are in the midst of the 6^th year of La Natividad, a bilingual Christmas production that our church does in concert with the world-renowned In the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theater.  It is told from the point of view of an immigrant family in the neighborhood, and includes the whole of the Christmas story, most importantly murderous King Herod who is so afraid of this little child to be born.  In our telling, Herod tries to stop the immigrants from crossing a bridge, saying they aren’t allowed, they cannot work here, be here, belong here.  The “neighbors” in the play (actual neighbors in most cases), call out “mother—madre”, “hermano-brother”, “tia-aunt” in order to disarm Herod’s guards peacefully and allow everyone to pass.

We call it a play, a performance, but it’s more than that—it’s a procession of courage and joy through the most diverse neighborhood in the city, a neighborhood looked upon by many as “crime ridden” and “unsafe”.  And it is a political statement that the love of God shown by God’s people breaks down the barriers that divide us.  Barriers of race, religion, class, language, status, age—we can go on forever

I was interviewed about the show last night on local radio, and the interviewer asked me what I would say to those who say that such themes are not in their view of the Christmas story.  I can’t remember exactly what I said, but the basic thing I would say today is “read the book, would you?!”  Mary and Joseph have to leave their home in Galilee because Caesar wants to count everyone (for the purposes of taxing and conscripting into his wars).  They are rejected by Joseph’s kinfolk in his home town.  The little one is born among the most poor.  Then he is hunted by Herod, the puppet king of Rome, and the holy family has to flee to Egypt, where they are political refugees for seven years.  Yeah, it’s in there.

She also asked me how it was for children who had grown up in the show, and how that effected them (I chose “effected” over “affected” on purpose).  I talked about how people who have immigrated here, under hardship—and often persecution—can see their own life story in the Christmas story, and what a difference that can make.  They can see liberation and abundance coming, even in the midst of darkness, and see—and to a great extent be—God’s power working that in the world.

This is a poem that I wrote for La Natividad a few years back—the tricky angels, and the beasts with fins and paws and feathers can still be seen from December 11-21.  www.hobt.org.

One more thing: when I send an e-mail with La Natividad and spell check it, the first option given is “antiviral”.  Which I trust that it is: an antiviral against the brutality, division and fear in our land.

LA NATIVIDAD

Maria, you shop for tortillas, the tongue’s comfort,

a bed to lay the evening meal upon.  One eye out

for La Migra, one ear cocked for a shout, a boot,

a hard knock on the door.  You hear the bells

of tricky angels troubling, you listen to the voice      

of God that tells you your womb

is a quarry of bright diamonds, a pond

bearing wounded fish into the world. How

to explain that to a man who spends his days

talking to wood?  Finally, you walk. Together

and alone.  You take your feet and the child

feasting on your darkness and you carry

into the night, trusting that the dust you walk on,

the water you caress with your eyes

is the same dust, the same dew God

used to make the world, to make the man

and woman one and apart and free.

You cross a bridge, you don’t look back,

you march into the holy, abandoned rock

where beasts assemble and you wait. 

One by one the heavenly beings return,

with four paws and two, with wings

and fins and feathers, gathered to

watch the little one burst from you

and keep the silence love requires.

Look, Maria!  Listen! The voice of God

upon your lips.  Even your screams

turn the stars into dancing.

Be justice

Be beauty

Be antiviral

Patrick

Come and see how grownup these tricky angels are!