Dear People of St. David’s,
I collect Nativity scenes. Some are antiques like the one that Bill’s grandfather brought home from FAO Schwarz the year his first child was born 100 years ago. One is a yearly collectible set that now has so many pieces that Jesus is born on one bookshelf while the shepherds adore him on another. Some are a little silly, like the transparent window cling I bought at St. David’s Cathedral in Wales 30 years ago. We have Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, depicted by clothespins, glued onto a triangle made by tongue depressors. This creation was a gift from our second son when he was a student at St. David’s Nursery School.
Some years I set them all up, which can take up a lot of table-top space to the annoyance of those visiting me at the holidays. My daughter-in-law brought me one from Mexico that is the size of a walnut, and now she and I compete to take up the least space. I think I won this year; I found socks with a Nativity scene knit into them.
Some years, I only set up one or two. But whether it’s a couple, or the whole collection, as I set them up, I pay attention to the details of each scene. The unique features help me wonder: what am I doing to prepare my heart and soul for God to be born anew, again?
Some set-ups require lighting—what am I doing to bring light to the world? Some need the hay or cotton fluff or packing material in the manger to be renewed—am I remembering to take the rest that I need to renew my body and spirit? Some years, flying angels and stars seem like fun—although setting that up can be a little precarious. What am I doing to stretch myself to see the world from a new perspective?
The Nativity Story is our very best story—we find the sacred details in the first chapters of Luke and Matthew, and a mystical poem to go along with them in the first chapter of John. We set up Nativity Scenes and stage Christmas Pageants and watch movies that tell the story—because the story of God becoming one of us in the fragility of an infant is God’s own love letter to us. The details that we notice each time we re-tell the story can be signs of where our hearts are full, and where they are thirsty.
This year, Bill and I are travelling at Christmas, and so our decorations are minimal. The tongue-depressor scene is on the mantel, and I think of the precious life of babies: my own babies, and the babies who won’t sleep in comfort or safety tonight, and the precious life of God begun and expressed in a fragile human baby.
We set up one other scene this year—the easiest box to lift out of our basement Christmas corner. As we unwrapped the pieces, Bill placed the gold, frankincense, and myrrh right there in front of the baby—on December 10! No hiding the baby until the 24th this year—no starting the kings in another room and moving them along slowly until January 6. This year, all the elements of Luke and Matthew are right there in one place and that battery-operated candle reminds us of John. This year, I wonder, are these details a sign that I already have all the gifts that I need to be the person that God calls me to be?
How are you preparing your heart and mind for God to be born anew, again?
Faithfully,
Nancy+
The Rev. Nancy Webb Stroud
Priest Associate
Pictured: The Nativity Scene that was given to Bill Stroud to mark his ministry as Property Manager of St. David’s 1985-1998.
Published on December 12, 2024