While Shepherds Were Watched

It had been a good evening so far, but we still missed that moment, something that would lift the spirits, give people a reason to really enjoy themselves. 2/3 of our annual Carol Concert had gone, I was placed at the back of the hall by the sound desk, supposedly because from there I could intervene if anything went horribly wrong.

There had been good and moving moments. When our guest soloist sang “O Holy Night” followed by “Who would expect a King” (from “The Preacher's Wife) or when the Youth Chorus had sung “Prayer of the Children” and with some haunting words brought the reality of suffering and pain round the world into the Christmassy atmosphere in Manchester. I am sure I was not the only one with moist eyes at the conclusion of that song. But the item we had discussed in the planning meetings, but never really found, was just missing.

Then came the Nativity play. Esther, a young girl from one of our plants, stepped forward and without any accompaniment began singing “Silent Night”. As she was singing children slowly walked onto the stage, dressed as characters from the Christmas story. First came Mary and Josef with the baby. We had only been able to mobilise one shepherd and he entered during the 2nd verse. He was only 3 years old, but walked on stage just as had been planned, carrying his sheep under one arm and with a staff that seemed twice his size in his hand. Probably would have looked fine, if he had not hold onto it like a walking stick, stretching his little arm to the limit to reach the handle at the top. A slight giggle went through the audience – he was cute. He walked straight to his assigned spot and sat down. Or rather, he tried to sit down. It is not so easy when you are only three, carrying a sheep under one arm while holding on to a staff twice your size, and wearing a dress does not make it any easier. While he was struggling to get down the giggle grew to a controlled laughter, the kind of laughter you use when children, unintentionally, are amusing and you do not want to upset them, but still can't help to laugh. Finally he made it down to the floor with his two short legs stretched out in front of him, his bare feet pointing at the audience. Suddenly he realised that in his struggle to get down, he had come too far forward. He was determined to do it right, he had been shown where he should sit, and he was going to get there, but how? Getting up would be just as difficult as it had been to get down. He could not use his hands, as they still were used to hold onto a sheep and the staff and his legs were stretched out in front of him. The only movable part of his anatomy in contact with the floor was his bum, and he decided to use it. Displaying an amazing control of his buttocks he “walked” backwards, using first the left, then the right, then the left and so on until finally he was in the right spot. The laughter was not quite as controlled any more.

Amazingly Esther managed to keep calm and kept singing. Next verse brought on the star, a 2 year old by dressed as a star. He did exactly as he had been told and a collective “ahhh” sounded from the audience as they saw him. As you know, after the star comes the kings. 3 of them, supposedly coming together, but for some reason they came one by one. The first entered with something between a brisk walk and slow jog, dumped his gift in front of the manger and then hurried into his position next to Joseph. The next king had understood that jogging was not suitable for the occasion and set of doing his best to look dignified and solemn. Unfortunately he over did it a bit. He walked so slowly that he would not have made it to Bethlehem in time for the second coming and tried so hard to look dignified that it became hilarious. The congregation, truly warmed up now, of course reacted with mild laughs. Esther, God Bless her, was still singing beautifully, and we managed to get the angels on stage without any further mishaps. Finally they were all there, placed around the manger and as Esther finished the song and thunderous applause broke out, the biggest of the evening.

I had enjoyed the nativity just as much as anyone else, accepting there was absolutely nothing I could do about it, but I was glad it was over. From now it was plain sailing until the end of the concert, or so I thought!

The Divisional Commander (DC) stepped forward, standing in front of the nativity scene to do his devotion. He connected quickly with the congregation, helping them to settle down after the excitement of the nativity play. The idea was the children would stay as a tableau of the nativity during the devotion – big mistake!

The children had been instructed to sit and stand still while the DC was talking and they actually did. The shepherd, still sitting on the spot he so athletically had moved to earlier, knew he should not move, but no one had said anything about his staff. He probably was bored, and so he started exploring what he could reach with the rod – the manger, Mary, the cornet bench of the band. He realised if he held on to the bottom of the staff then it had a hook at the other end and for a moment he contemplated pulling baby Jesus out of his manger, but the it seemed like he got another idea, wondering whether, if he got a big enough swing on the staff, he might be able to bring down the man (the DC) standing in front of him, blocking his view to the nice people in the hall.

While all this was going on the DC valiantly tried to deliver his well prepared thoughts. Unfortunately the shepherd's actions had not gone unnoticed by the congregation, who several times burst out in laughter. I did not know whether to laugh or cry at this time, seeing a well prepared programme with a natural progression going down the drain. Part of me wished some adult on the stage would take that staff, which by know had turned into a lethal weapon, away from the shepherd, but I also realised it would probably not be popular with the crowd. The DC finished of by saying “Thank You for listening”, but knew very few had the faintest idea what he had said, the show had been hijacked by a shepherd.

When we planned the programme the idea was that the devotion would have given people something to think about and so, without introduction, the band would accompany a trumpet rendition of Away in a Manger, to give the audience time to digest what they just had listened to. The lights would dim over the nativity scene and as the band would start to play the children would discreetly walk off stage, while the attention was on the band. That was the plan. In reality, the lights weren't dimmed and before the band got going the children, relieved finally to be allowed to move, marched out in a single file across the stage, with the audience applauding enthusiastically. Our little shepherd found it as difficult to get up from the floor as he had found it getting down. When he finally made it to his feet, the other children were off stage already. Carrying his sheep and dragging his staff along the floor, he hurried after them, all on his own, but accompanied not only by applause, but loud cheers from everyone in the audience.

It had been planned as a moment of silence and contemplation, instead we got that moment, where everyone was enjoying themselves and relaxing, that moment, which, when everything else is forgotten, still will bring a smile to the face of everyone present. I am not sure anyone focussed on what the nativity was suppose to mean, their attention was distracted with all the things going on around the scene, but was that not just what happened the first Christmas? No one really got what it all was about, focussing more on the star, the angels and all the other happenings? Maybe we can convince people we planned the nativity play the way it happened, to make it more realistic? Maybe we can tell we were trying to make a theological point when the shepherd used his bum to move back on the right spot?

Or maybe we should just accept that the shepherd stole the show? He was cute – but he sure is not getting on stage next year!