Intergenerational Christmas Pageant

This year our new church decided to shake up the usual pageant. For many years, on Christmas Eve during the 4 pm family service, the children told the story of the birth of Jesus Christ. Even though we never attended, I'm sure it was adorable. I'm also sure it was a lot of work.

The first Christmas after the pandemic they created a Zoom-like version of the pageant. We watched in social isolation as everyone shared their part of the story. All I remember was the running gag of "Mary, you're on mute!" I believe it was pre-recorded. Like the pageants of the past, I am certain it was a lot of work.

This year the pageant was opened up to everyone -- not just children. There was a tiny glitch in that the costumes lovingly used for generations, were designed for grade school sized children. Instead of holding it on Christmas Eve, it was held on the second Sunday of Advent. There was a two-hour rehearsal held the Wednesday before the service, but if you couldn't make that rehearsal show up a little early for the costume fitting and guidance.

Warmed by memories of years of participating in the pageant (not much choice when your mom is one of the mothers running the event), I signed up hoping for a small role in the back. Instead I was asked to be one of the two narrators. 

*Gulp* I knew I would be at least a half an hour later because I already had a ticket to Princeton Theological Seminary's 3:30 PM service Carols of Many Nations -- an annual treat. There was no chance of arriving in time for the 5 PM rehearsal.

Back to the pageants of my childhood. We would rehearse for hours and hours and hours the day before the pageant. We may have even rehearsed on two Saturdays. The choir stood up front and sang our cues as we did as directed. For years afterwards me knees still wanted to genuflect upon hearing the soloist sing "Fall on your knees" during "O Holy Night." My sisters and I were often cast as angels -- "angels do not wear nail polish or have anything in their hair." There were standards to being an angel in the 1980's era Dutch Reformed Christmas pageant. 

We would gaze at Mary, a teenager wearing a light blue costume similar to our white gowns that covered us from our necks to our ankles clad in white tights (angels don't wear shoes, nor are they barefoot in December in New Jersey), as if she were a rock star. 

One year when I was in high school, or maybe even college, the new choir director attempted to modernize the pageant and included people from "today." I was cast as a nurse. I remember wearing my plain white confirmation dress, but without the red belt. 

Fast forward to my thirties when I was finally cast as Mary. Mom was still the casting agent for the pageant. By this point she preferred to have a live baby Jesus. Typically the parents who had the youngest baby were cast in the roles of Mary and Joseph, and there was a baby younger than 7-month old Ashley, but we were asked (voluntold?) to be the Holy Family. The other family was invited to portray the new parents during a regular worship service. 

Two years later, my sister, brother-in-law and five-month old nephew were asked to be the Holy Family. Two-year old Ashley was cast as a lamb (lambs are allowed to roam free as they are too young to corral). I believe I was a shepherd for the first time so I could keep an eye on lamby. 

Soon my parents left that church and moved to be closer to their grandchildren. My acting career in the pageant had come to an end, at least until I saw the announcement in the bulletin. This being a church, all who want to participate were encouraged. 

I am happy to say I was not the only adult. A retired woman played an angel. She said she didn't think she ever participated in a pageant before and was happy to finally have the opportunity. Two of the pastors participated as shepherds. A dad was another adult angel. All of us adults knew the congregation was packed because they wanted to see their children. My mom even commented that people seemed to sit closer to the front than usual.

I'm not as well trained as the rest of the family, meaning while they look at my mom while performing and she takes their pictures, I kept looking at my script or away from her. I wasn't much better for the official church photographers.

It was fun.

Someone described my performance as "spirit filled." Someone else chastised me for not remembering all of my lines even though they were written in front of me (harsh criticism considering she missed her cue and I had to make up dialogue to give them enough time to make it to the front). I skipped a paragraph and tried to make it up. The other narrator, thinking I had forgotten to speak, started to read my lines. I was pausing to allow the angels to get into place. Dad chuckled when I looked south to say "people came from the north," and I made it worse by commenting on his chuckle. It felt good to hear him laugh. To have my parents there.

It was only 15 minutes, but felt so much longer! Renewed appreciation for the family members involved with shows. Though, I wouldn't have objected to a repeat performance so I could do it better the second time. Maybe next year?