Our parish Christmas pagaent will be held on Sunday. Lots of people are busy making the final preparations for this amazing celebration that places us in the final days leading up to all the excitement of Christmas. I am thankful that here at Christ Church we have some amazing Pagaent presentations that can be done in extreme simplicity and avoid the pitfalls of Christmas pagaents past.
In the years of my early ministry, as surely as the Wise Men would follow the star and the shepherds follow the sheep, the parish Christmas Pageant would arrive — glorious, unpredictable, and possessed of a remarkable ability to turn grown adults into nervous wrecks armed with safety pins and bribes of hot chocolate.
The pageant, of course, is meant to be a serene retelling of the Nativity. What it actually became was a delicate dance of incarnational theology and crowd control. It’s the one liturgical event where the Holy Family used to be played by a twelve-year-old who is suddenly “too mature” for this but has agreed under protest, Joseph tried to look stoic while his crook poked him in the ribs, and Mary prayed the Baby Jesus wouldn’t escape her arms like an errant curling stone.
And then there’s the angel contingent — an entire chorus line of celestial beings, each flapping their tinsel wings with the unrestrained enthusiasm of a flock of over-caffeinated seagulls. Somewhere behind them, a sheep is chewing on the edge of a costume left carelessly within reach, and a camel made of two fifth-graders in a burlap sack is contemplating a career change. I have had experiences of a shepherd who was brought into the cast on the very day of the pagaent because the director felt that every child in the parish would be a part of the show, and who — every time a parent would point a camera at the action on stage would forget his non-speaking role, and begin to loudly shout “Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeese” until the picture had been taken. Another year, the tiny innkeeper hearing the beautiful carols played on the Cathedral organ began a wonderful interepretive liturgical dance that brought the house down.
In my experience, pageants unfold in three sacred movements:
1. The Rehearsal of Great Frustration
This is when we realize that no one can remember their lines, the costumes itch, and the baby donkey is allergic to wool. The rector (that would be me) offers reassurance: “It will all come together on the day.” This is, of course, not based on evidence but on the theological virtue of hope.
2. The Pageant of Controlled Chaos
The sanctuary fills. Cameras rise. The organist prays the children won’t start the opening hymn on a note only molars can hear. Mary and Joseph shuffle down the aisle with all the gravitas of two preteens walking into gym class. Something will fall over. Someone will cry. An angel will sneeze glitter. And the congregation will love every second of it.
3. The Benediction of Pure Grace
Because at the end of the day, amid the crooked halos and unevenly stuffed sheep costumes, something holy happens. God chooses to arrive again—not in perfection, but in all our earnest imperfection. The pageant reminds us that the Incarnation isn’t a polished performance. It’s the outrageous truth that God enters our world as it really is: wiggly, uncoordinated, full of surprises, and absolutely overflowing with love.
So, to all who wrangle shepherds, pin wings, mop glitter, and whisper lines from the front pew—take heart. You are participating in one of the holiest forms of chaos the Church has ever known. And the good news is that Emmanuel comes anyway. No perfect staging required.
Companion Prayer
Holy and Joyful God, Bless all our Christmas pageants — the wandering shepherds, the nervous Marys, the Josephs who didn’t want a speaking role, the angels shedding tinsel like confetti, and the adults holding it all together with tape, prayer, and a sense of humour. In the beautiful chaos of this holy season, let us glimpse again the wonder of your Incarnation: that you come to us not in perfection, but in our real, ordinary, joy-filled lives. May our laughter be prayer, our mistakes be grace, and our pageants be portals to your love made flesh.
Amen.