There is—for many of us of a certain age—the
remembrance of the enchantment of a Nativity set
under the Christmas tree. These were a treasured
fixture of the holidays, along with the glass bubble
lights and the angel whirligigs that spun around
powered by tiny candles. My own family’s Nativity
set was modest, possibly purchased at the local
Woolworths—just the stable with some straw on
the roof, Baby Jesus in a rather shaky crib, Mary in
her blue and white robe, Joseph in brown (not to
outshine Mary), the three Wise Men on camels, one
lamb, one cow, a slightly bent star, and possibly a
shepherd boy. Over the years, the ceramic figures
got chipped and I tried to touch them up with poster
paint that ultimately left the set looking rather
camouflaged. But I still remember the absolute
delight I had while lying on my stomach playing
with these characters. My favorites were the Wise
Men whom I often had galloping around the edges
of the Nativity like the wranglers of Ponderosa
Ranch, “ta da da dah, ta da da dah.”
The whole set, I thought, was there for me to
embellish—sometimes with cotton batten from the
aspirin bottle, sometimes with grass clipped from
the lawn. I felt sorry for the Baby Jesus—he looked
so cold laying there with hands raised, feet kicking
in joy, but quite bare of covers—so I would cut
some scraps from old flannel to make some quite
nice pajamas. I don’t think the New Testament tells
us exactly how long the family needed to stay in
that stable, so my thought was, “let’s decorate a bit.”
Sunday school did not mention how long the family
was encamped; nor did
Amahl and the Night Visitors
,
the opera by Gian Carlo Menotti which I saw on the
Hallmark Hall of Fame when I was eight years old;
nor the Christmas segment of the television series
I Remember Mama
in which the regular characters
became part of the Nativity story. So, I had a grand
time making sure the stable had a few nice amenities
for the family. I think now of how much my religious
education was
ad hoc
—learned from Hollywood
Bible epics, televisions specials, popular culture,
and the many Christmas Eve pageants I went to
but never participated in, as my own family did not
send me to a specific church in our neighborhood.
I think my parents thought that the Methodists,
Lutherans, Baptists, and the Eastern Rite Church
were all telling the same story, anyway. In looking
back now, I realize that all of this was really a
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2014 Crèche of the Year
—s
ee page 20 for more details!
Crèche, 20th century, Bellenes Puig, S. L., Spanish (Barcelona), painted clay, fabric, wire, wood, and straw
