Christmas Eve thoughts on the Nativity.

The story is about birth. I have seen countless depictions of the story, and have collected many unusual, handmade nativity sets from all over the world. I am especially drawn to creations of mother and child. A few of them are not depicting the birth of Jesus, but of god by another name. The birth of Buddha, or of Horus, with the main figure being the mother, birthing God into the world. So many cultures are drawn to the story of God being born into the world, and dwelling with us.

I enjoy visiting creche exhibits, and seeing the way an artist will tell the story. What medium will they use? How many characters will be included? What do they look like? Are the animals and clothing specific to the artist’s culture?

I have seen sets of figures that are made from the finest materials, with idealized figures and faces, placed out of reach, to be viewed behind glass or other barriers. The story of birth is glorified, beautiful, calm, untouchable.

I have several sets that are finely detailed, and look fragile, but they are made of plastic. I watch my toddler niece play with them. She likes gathering the baby figures from each set, and having them ride the different animals. She tries to have the angels hold the babies, but the outstretched hands can’t be moved. She eventually asks for the grandma, who needs to be by the mother. The shepherdess in one of the sets has become the grandma. A 2 year old has fun playing with the babies, but already knows that help is needed at a birth.

A few days ago, I saw several nativity sets made by artists from Kenya. They had to create the figures from whatever materials they could find – recycled aluminum cans and juice containers, oil barrels, bits of rag and wood. The one I really noticed was made of mud and dung. The sets that have touched me the most are ones where I see how the maker has brought whatever they have, whatever they are, to the story of a birth that impacted so many. These figures made of mud and dung moved me more than those made of fine porcelain with the look of calm faces and flowing robes. 

Birth is messy. Even though I birthed my children in the ideal and sterile setting of a modern hospital, there was pain wracking my body, vomit, blood, tearing, unexpected complications, fear, risk, and the dawning realization that what my life had been, was now gone, and a completely different way of living began.

This is what birth is. Any kind of birth – of a biological or adopted child, of a new idea, of a new phase of life, a new relationship, a different home or job, of a new paradigm. A birth is the beginning of something new, and the ending of something past. This is opposition in all things – each birth, or renewal, also involves a type of death or ending of what was. 

Christ was born into the world to fulfill, to complete the old law. And to bring the new law, the law of love. The story includes the rejoicing of those beyond the mortal perspective – angels who could see how transformative this could be. They were so excited, they called upon humans to witness this birth of a new way, of God being among us because They love us, and invite us to experience that love. Not because of power, or force, or authority – only and always because of love for all. 

I wonder, did angels try to invite others to witness, but the others could not or would not see? Such a messy birth as this. A young woman who had courage I can’t imagine. Even though I still live in a culture and country where a woman might be risking a great deal by expressing strength, ideas, thoughts that do not conform to tradition, Mary’s life was in constant danger beyond my comprehension. She took on growing a new life within her, having it emerge in the mud, and dung, and blood and danger of whatever shelter she could find. Many who could find more comfortable surroundings would not need to witness God appearing in this dark place of filth. Those who are closest to this place could have the eyes to witness the only way God can really be among us, as one of us. 

It would be nice if the story of such a birth could be as clean and glowing as some depictions. And it would be nice if each new stage of life, or new paradigm, or epiphany could be easy and pleasant illumination. But that is not my experience. The deep, soul changing awareness of new life that can transform my heart and mind comes only through fierce battles I wage as I seek new wisdom, even as I try to hang on to the old way of living. I do not have the eyes to witness God in the world when I am only focusing on appearing happy and shiny. The birth story has no power when I won’t allow new light and understanding to grow in me, even if it can only emerge in the mud, and dung and blood of the woundedness of this life. 

Even later in life, when the Christ child became the man who could perform healing miracles using spit and mud, there were those not willing to see the embodiment of the love of God because it was not what they expected or imagined. They could only look for the shiny, powerful warrior king god who would destroy enemies. This God who loved them, and also loved their enemies, and told them that to do likewise was the only salvation – this God was too messy. 

One of my favorite nativities was made by my children and nieces and nephews when they were much younger. I set boxes of beads and spools of wire in front of them, and asked them to make any nativity figures they wanted, any way they wanted. The result was unexpected, and more than I could have imagined. Animals unlike any I have seen. A stick figure angel with enormous, elaborate wings. And a baby Jesus which is twice the size of Mary and Joseph. There are no flowing robes or lovely, calm faces on these figures. This set speaks to me powerfully of the birth story, just as the one made of mud and dung.

Let new life emerge, even when it must come with the death of the past way of living. Even when you are not sure what to expect, have room for something unimaginable to happen. Don’t wait until you are happy enough, shiny enough, worth enough, clean enough, perfect enough before you listen for the good news that God is with you now, and loves you now. The good news that God loves all now. Let the new life that can emerge from you be bigger than what you are now. You are complete and whole in the mud and dung messiness of your life. Don’t look for a shiny, clean god that will fix you. Let God show up as the messy, unexpected, bigger than you can imagine love that They are.