The best Christmas pageant ever

The Christmas pageant at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco is an extended metaphor of what I love about being a liberal Episcopalian. Families arrive about 30 minutes before the service. Their children choose their roles (angel, shepherd, wise person--all genders welcome, naturally) from a lavish pile of costumes collected over the years. Each angel has a white robe, wings and a halo. Each shepherd has an array of earth-toned tunics and head wraps to mix and match. The wise folks have it best, in my opinion, with a bazaar's worth of fancy fabrics, turbans and crowns, along with gold spray-painted lumps of wood to represent the gifts. (Goddaughter Caroline in angelic regalia)

After everyone suits up, the bishop reads (and extemporizes) the basic Christmas story. Mary and Joseph (the only preassigned roles) troop up the center aisle with Mary on a rented pony guided by its shepherd-clad handler. A mom (dressed as an angel) places the baby Jesus-of-the-year on Mary's lap, then hovers close by. Last year, my hefty, six-month-old nephew played Jesus. This year, an Asian baby of about the same age filled the role with equal aplomb. As the story progresses, the congregation sings hymns to match the action and the angel choir (about 30 girls and the occasional boy ages 3-10), the flock of shepherds (at least 20) and the wise folk (25 extravagantly clad pre-teens, one of them carrying a large, sequined star on a stick) make their appearance and crowd the alter area. Everyone mills around, mostly quietly. There are a few real goats that enter with the shepherds (though the pony quickly exits stage left after dropping off the BVM). These provide some entertainment to the younger members of the Nativity scene while the bishop continues the familiar tale. (This is a pic of Mary surrounded by wise folk at the Grace Cathedral pageant two years ago, but the scene today was similar.)

The whole thing takes about 45 minutes from start to finish. As one of the clergy says, it works beautifully every year no matter what happens. It's impossible to make a mistake or do it "wrong." Kids feel comfortable and welcome--they are also much more likely to absorb the message while dressed in a cool costume and sitting at the bishop's feet rather than stuck in an itchy church outfit out in the pews. Parents feel comfortable and welcome--and are also much more likely to absorb the message when their children are excited and occupied. It's everything good about a church where the spirit of the law usually trumps the letter of the law and where awe inspired by a live goat at the communion rail is valued alongside awe inspired by the Baby J. No one has to be anxious or rehearsed to death in order to pull off an exuberant rendition of the Greatest Story Ever Told. Even the prayers come from the kids. One young shepherd brought down the house when he told the bishop to pray for "a smart president." The bishop assured him (accompanied by cheers and applause) that his prayers had already been answered.

This year I took my scarily precocious goddaughter, who wanted to dress up as a lamb, but settled for a pair of angel wings as long as I dressed up too. She was interested in everything: the empty stable set before the play started, the arrival of Mary on the pony, the baby, the manger, the fact that we were in Bethlehem, even if we were just pretending. During the pageant, we positioned ourselves to pet the goats, took a quick snack break (a tangerine) and had a good look at the Holy Family, the bishop and the star on a stick. Afterward, we got our candy canes and found the pony, along with every other member of the angel choir (ie: little girls, ages 3-10).

I could talk about the wonder of seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child, even an almost three year old who can find Romania on the globe and wants an accordion for Christmas (I'm not kidding and, yes, she's getting one.) But that's not what I was thinking about. I was thinking about how free my goddaughter was to approach the pageant in the way she wanted with as many questions she wanted (she's definitely going through that "why" phase). She could make her entrance, take a break, come back, ask more questions, wander around and check out anything that caught her attention. It was so cool to watch her questions lead to more questions--there probably isn't a better way to encourage religious inquiry in kids, or any other type of inquiry for that matter. I'll see her again in a few days and plan to ask her what she remembers most about the pageant today. Maybe she'll put down her accordion long enough to answer. I wonder what it will be. I'm voting for the goats, the baby or the candy cane. What more do you need for the best Christmas pageant ever?