Greendale Peoples Church in Worcester, MA is famous for its wonderful Christmas pageants. “Angels Among Us” makes use of young and old alike taking the roles of angels, prophets, shepherds, magi, Mary, and Joseph as well as a large cast called “the people of the world” who process to the manger at the end of the show dressed in ethnic costumes representing all of humanity. And there are live animals too – yes in the sanctuary! – sheep, goats and Chester the donkey who brings Mary down the aisle to “Bethlehem.”

It’s a fabulous pageant!

One year I had to be a Wise Man in addition to serving as the Narrator because Bill T. – at the last minute – came down with some mysterious illness that prevented him from going on and singing his verse of “We Three Kings of Orient Are.” 

So, at one point in the pageant, I had to slip out of my Narrator role, dash in darkness out of the sanctuary, down the stairs to the dressing room to don my Wise Man costume with its cardboard crown, and then run back up the stairs just in time to meet my two Wise Men colleagues at the front of the sanctuary by the pen where we kept the live sheep and the goats.

And that’s when I had a firsthand experience of the true humility – and humanity – of Christmas.

Running down the darkened stairs to the dressing room, I passed by one of our little angel girls. She was just sitting there on the steps. I thought nothing of the fact that she should have been on stage at that point, and just kept running to the dressing room. Pulling off my shoes, I threw on the robes which were once the drapes in some church member’s house, and scurried back up the stairs – barefoot. That’s when I realized the reason the little angel girl was on the stairs.

Just a little stage fright.

And an upset stomach.

And, in the darkness, I stepped right into it!

“Sorry, Marty,” she moaned.

“Not as sorry as I am, honey,” I replied.

But, the show must go on.

So I kept running – up the stairs, down the aisle. And I managed to get there – to the front of the sanctuary, by the animal pen with the live sheep and the goats – just in time for the cue to sing my first-ever public solo – the verse that goes: “Myrrh is mine; it’s bitter perfume, Breathes a life of gathering gloom…”

And just as I triumphantly vocalized the last note of my solo, one of the sheep in the pen beside me let out a really loud, long flatulent sound.

Obviously, a stinging commentary on my singing.

_____

I’m guessing the first Christmas was sort of like that.

Truly human.

Truly divine.