Have you ever seen a pig in a Christmas pageant? The people in one community I know almost did.
In this city one church’s annual pageant has become an extravaganza that draws thousands of Christmas worshippers from miles around.
Every year the main scenes of the pageant remain the same. After all, you can’t write Mary out of the Christmas drama, even if she sings off key. And the ministry of Jesus leads inexorably to a cross, no matter who pens the screenplay.
But each year’s pageant is different. One year it was narrated from the infamous inkeeper’s perspective. The next, through the eyes of a Roman soldier. One time a shepherd told the tale. And every Christmas the lighting and sound tracks evolve into something grander, more spectacular.
Most of the pageant cast and orchestra and stage hands are members of the host congregation, but the fame and fun of the affair does attract talented participants from other churches. That’s how the pigs almost got into the pageant one year.
Carried away by the mystique of the live baby Jesus, and the live sheep milling around the manger, and the live donkey clomping down the municipal auditorium’s long descending aisleway, one enthusiastic outsider hatched the brilliant idea.
“Why not have the wisemen’s entourage come bearing gifts not only of gold, frankincense, and myrrh?” she bubbled. “Why not let some of them honor the baby Jesus with potbellied pigs?”
Honest. This is a true story.
And the lady who came up with this innovative twist to the Christmas tale was furious when one of the church’s hapless pastors banned the porkers from the play. Futilely he tried to explain to her that a pig, potbellied or otherwise, would be an insult, not an honor, to the King of the Jews.
Although the poor pastor lost some posterior hide for his efforts to keep the pageant kosher, the swine were ousted, and people who attended the program that season never knew how close they came to seeing a pig in a Christmas pageant.
Unfortunately for most of us, pigs aren’t the only intruders into Christmas, are they? It’s only too easy to clutter up Christmas if we forget Who the season really honors.