Christmas Pageants Galore
By Sally Armour Wotton
![]() Whatever your faith background, and North America has them all, December seems to be the time of year to tell the traditional stories. In my case it was all about Christmas Pageants. Not so long ago I directed not one but a number of these Pageants for my sins. My theatre background convinced several different churches each year that I was the one to keep the story, the nostalgia and the warm feeling of Christmas alive in their communities. The trouble was that, like everyone else, I had tons of other things to do and should be at the mall! Added to that the first pageant was in early December when we are still raking the leaves and putting the garden tools away.
So each fall I was overwhelmed by the prospect of finding sixty adult volunteer actors and four or five sets of parents with infants who are up for performing out of doors on a December evening. It turned out they actually enjoyed it! The show was presented on eight stages along a path in the churchyard. Audiences were guided past the scenes – a new audience every five minutes for four hours – four hours! A light fall of snow was always welcome but we did all the anti-rain dances we knew. One year for this pageant there were two choirs, five holy families with six infants (one set of twins), three life sized puppets and sixty-two actors, no animals – perhaps another year. The show was double cast so that all could take turns getting warm in-doors. Of course, the performers arrive on the day wearing multiple coats, long johns and thick wool socks. No problem – the medieval costumes, made from twenty-seven pairs of discarded drapes, are large enough to cover any size parka. A few came wearing your basic biblical Adidas, “But these are the only shoes I have” they say, hoping white canvas shoes sticking out at the bottom of an ornate period costume with velvet folds, gilt trim and feathered turban won’t be noticed. Sandals and extra socks are found. Mind you, some have no wardrobe limitations. When the last Mary and Joseph came in from the Bethlehem scene Mary removed her costume to reveal a full-length mink coat. Apparently, carpentry is the trade to be in. The holy families became a little extended family group between performances sharing baby stories and baby equipment. One infant had an enviable, thick head of black hair and Silent Night put him to sleep. A woman in the audience said, “Look it’s a doll, what a shame they couldn’t get a real baby” – which caused the mother to blurt out, “No, look again, this is a real baby!” I’m sure the original Mary would have done the same. Then before I could finish my cast party pizza I was on to the next – an indoor production. This one is done with very small children – guaranteed to get oohs, ahhs and chuckles from the adults. They were doing just fine until the sheep fight broke out at the high altar. For all but the sheep’s parents it was the high light of the production. Still recovering from tiny tantrums and backstage mothers I was thrown into the pageant that used live animals. The organizers got them from a petting zoo the day before the event. The “little” lamb we were expecting, for a shepherd to carry under his arm, weighed 200 pounds. There were no donkeys so we made do with a llama who required exercise. She was walked around the block before the service on Christmas morning. There are now several people who live in the neighborhood of that church who have sworn off drinking on Christmas Eve. Tearing myself away from the menagerie, I embarked on pageant number four. This was done with teenagers who devised a modern version of the Christmas story. The characters were Joseph, a downsized office worker, Mary, an undiscovered artist, the Angel, who enters the scene through Mary’s painting—a tricky little stunt using cloth on a frame, a back light and plenty of Velcro—and a slum landlord who finds room for the Holy Family in his leaky basement. The younger children played rodents (think urban sheep). Oh and the shepherds were grandparents in a senior citizens’ home. “I think the shepherds should be grandparents” said Katherine aged 11, “They comfort and care for everybody but they’re made to feel separate from the rest of us”. The actor’s lines were improvised throughout—an old story told anew. I’ve come to think that directing this traditional story in December (even several times) really beats hanging out at the mall. However, when December moves into gear and people ask me if I’m ready for Christmas I find it hard to believe it hasn’t already happened. |
This story was first published in The Globe and Mail in December 2003
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