You Either Performed in a Live-Action Nativity When You Were a Kid, or You Didn’t
This Is for Those of You Who Did
By: Jaime Church
You might not remember much of it. You might have been really young. You might not like to think of it too much, because who knows what you’ll remember if you do? Today I was bored at work and I did nothing but force myself to remember every bit of free performing art work I did as a kid. I figured that if I think about uncomfortable memories in a situation that's already spoiled, I won’t have to tend to those memories later when I’m in a nice situation. It’s called thinking ahead. What makes nativity memories so complex? Only someone who hasn’t been in a live-action nativity would ask such a question, and as the title has already implied, this article isn’t for you if that is the case.
Anyway. As I’m sure you know, when you’re really young, they start you off as an animal. No speaking parts. This of course is adorable, because then you have a small herd of children-sheep wandering around some questionably lit church gym and baaaah-ing because what’s not fun about that? And they don’t know why the hell they’ve got black slippers on or fluffy white pants held up by suspenders that smell like the way the word moist sounds, but they do enjoy doing something new and can you blame them? They’ve just spent the entire year learning that Jesus loves them, and they’ve been told this is a really big deal– the biggest deal actually—but in no point in time did Jesus ever let them dress up as a sheep during second hour instead of sit and be told they’re bound to grow up to be a bunch of sinners. (For those of you who didn’t grow up attending church, it’s mostly just being told you’re always sinning. And I don’t say this as a critique on religion or anything, I just say it as a fact as to what goes on when you go to church. And the concept of sin was always very stressful to me as a kid, because I would sit there, thinking that I was pretty sure that I wasn’t sinning, but then I’d realize that that’s exactly what a sinner would think, and I’d freak out. I was seven years old, and I had already convinced myself that not only would Santa skip my house that year, but that I was probably going to go to hell.)
The next oldest kids were usually shepherds. One year, (let's say 2007 A.D.) I remember my sister was a shepherd and I was her sheep. Honestly, that was the best year I can remember because she had this long stripey poncho that looked like the uniform of a southern californian stoner, and she would slip me chunks of bread that had been used as sacrament earlier. And you couldn’t even get mad at us if you looked over and I was quietly chewing, because this was called method acting.
If you’ve never been in a nativity, you’ve never been told to “look peaceful” on the spot. Even as a nine year old I knew that “looking peaceful” on demand was a tall order. I say nine, because that was the year I scored the part of angel Gabriel. And I say “scored,” because in our rendition, angel Gabriel actually had the most speaking lines, and was basically the Shakespearean equivalent of Puck. And I say that the request was a tall order, because portraying the gratitude, reverence, and divinity of Christ whilst dressed in a white polyester robe eight sizes too big seemed a little unfair. So nine-year-old me is basically encapsulating all the charisma and brown-eyed beauty of Niel Perry in Dead Poet’s Society, only I didn’t kill myself afer the production. I’m sorry if this spoils the movie for you, but it did come out 36 years ago. My sister had graduated from the primary by that season, and my brother was too young to even be a sheep, so I was the only thespian from my family that year. I was supremely embarrassed by this. Not entirely sure why, because everyone in the crowd knew exactly who I was and who my siblings were, but somehow being forced to do the nativity as the sole representative of your family puts a lot of pressure and anxiety on the soul of a girl who already had the fear of god injected into her veins. The only other thing I remember about the nativity that year was that I had recently cut my hair as short as a boy, and it was in the weird in-between stages of growing back out, so I had to HARK, BE NOT AFRAID to a full crowd with a head of cropped, dark, curly, wildly unattractive hair. I think this is the thing of which I’m still the most sensitive about, because while my hair has grown out now, (I mean, I would hope so, it’s been 13 years,) I am still deeply insecure about my hair’s inability to be smooth or shiny. And while some say curly hair has made a comeback, I can’t look in the mirror at Christmastime without seeing an Angel Gabriel who has the self confidence of an unemployed worm.
I think I would have liked to play one of the wise men at some point. (But of course the wise men were men, not women, so that wasn’t a huge option.) And you might be saying, wait, but didn’t you play Gabriel? That’s true, I did. But that only happened because I think the boys at the time couldn’t sit still long enough to memorize the required lines. At least that’s my best guess, because I really have no idea how else I would have gotten the part. Letting a girl play Gabriel seems like a big risk, so there must have been a pretty good reason as to why they were forced to settle on me. But then again, the show must go on! Poor Taylor Swift. She has no idea what the life of a showgirl is really about.
If adults love the Christmas story so much, why don’t they act it out? Because you can force kids to do things, you can’t really force adults. But it’d be funny though. I’d love to see an adult nativity. I’d love to go back to all those leaders I had as a kid and tell them to look peaceful. But only after I cut their hair and take away their dignity. I’d love to tell them that they’ve got to suck it up and do it because it’s not a big deal, but also it's the biggest deal because this is the story of Christ we’re talking about, so you’re going to get up there and convey some reverence right now. I’d point out which one was my adult. Yes, that one there with the beer belly and patchy beard. The other women and I would have such a ball because this is what Christmas is all about. Anyway, It doesn’t matter much, I’m surprised if you’ve made it this far. The point is that I can’t wait to have a kid someday and put them in a live action Christmas nativity. Not because I care or really because Christ cares. But because it’s what we’ve all got to do. That’s what we signed up for. That’s part of the deal. I don’t know how else to explain it. At the very least, a long way down the road when my kid is incredibly bored at work, they’ll have something to think about.