Casting Call for a Christmas Pageant

where do we find ourselves in God's story of liberation and justice?

When I was a kid, it wasn’t really Christmas until we had our Christmas pageant at church. As much as Christmas pageants might seem relics of a bygone era, I believe they held (and still hold) an important place in our celebration of a Creator who takes on the flesh of creation and dwells among the beloved works of that Almighty hand. Why? Because, as we watch a Christmas pageant, each one of us – no matter how old – can fine ourselves in the God’s story of liberation and justice.

I’ll never forget the Christmas pageant at Church of the Ascension in Montgomery, Alabama, when I was in the fourth grade. It was quite the production, with a professionally designed set and theater-grade costumes. Yes, this was no bathrobe and towel turban Christmas pageant. We had the full cast of characters – Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham and Sarah, and, yes, even John the Baptist.

The performance that year was well on its way to being one for the ages, as all the kids in our church proudly marched down the aisle in their costumes, reciting their lines. That is, until Rob Weil took center stage as John the Baptist, decked out in a fur toga and a pirate’s beard. As he delivered his lines with a fevered pitch – he did have a flair for the dramatic – we were all surprised to hear the Baptizer confront congregation not as “You brood of vipers,” but “You booty wipers!”

John the Baptist is never the most comfortable character in a Christmas pageant. But, I wonder, today, if he isn’t exactlywho we need to help us prepare the way for the Holy One to take on the flesh of Creation, dwell in our midst, and usher in the divine dream for all God’s people.

Here is the Baptizer – in all his brashness, his crudeness, his audacity – calling the powerful of his day to repent and prepare the way for Lord God Almighty among us. “You brood of vipers!” he says. YOU brood of vipers. Friends, he is talking to us. You and me. Certainly, he also directs this call for repentance to those who, perhaps, more directly wield power and authority, the tax collectors – in our day, the politicians – and the soldiers – those who reinforce the authority of the powerful and the privileged. But John begins with us, the beneficiaries of that power and privilege. You and me. And, he is calling us to turn to those people and places on the margins of our power and privilege – where the Spirit of God is living and active.

Notice where we do not find the Spirit of God in our story this morning. In Luke’s Gospel, we hear that the Word of God did not come to Herod, ruler of Galilee, or Philip and Lisanius, the rulers of the surrounding regions. The Word of God did not even come to Annas or Caiaphas, the high priests. No, friends, the Word of God came to a religious radical of an occupied people, dressed in camel skins, eating bugs in the desert. The Word of God came to an unlikely man on the margins, calling for the high places to be made low and the low places to be raised up, for the crooked the be made straight, the rough places made smooth, that all flesh might see the salvation of God.

It is not enough, says John, that we are people of the Covenant. Do not assume, he warns, that our heritage, our traditions, our beautiful buildings and liturgies will prepare us to recognize and meet the living God. Indeed, our assumptions about our chosenness as a Covenant people may be the very thing that blinds us to the presence of the Almighty in our midst.

Together with Sarah Augustine, Executive Director and co-founder of the Coalition to Dismantle the Doctrine of Discovery, I convene the Episcopal Indigenous Justice Roundtable to organize and resource Episcopalians across the church to confront our theologies and institutions of White, Christian chosenness – which have for 400 years oppressed Indigenous peoples and peoples of color who were not heirs of this “New Covenant.” Indeed, our own Episcopal Church colluded with the federal government to develop policies for the removal of Indigenous children from their families and lands so they might be remade in our image – White and Christian. The result? Millions of dollars of treaty annuities pocketed by the church for schooling Indigenous children. Millions of acres of treatied lands, sold and cleared for development by Episcopal oligarchs – all titans of industry on the East Coast – who funded the Episcopal missions and missionaries to Indigenous peoples – with their own personal fortunes as the principal beneficiary. And we, as children of White, Christian chosenness, continue to be the beneficiaries of that stolen land and those stolen children.

Friends, the Doctrine of Discovery – and the White, Christian chosenness it secures – is not just ancient history. It continues today in our theologies and institutions. It is perpetuated in our budgets and in our approach to “mission.” And, so, with the crowd in today’s Gospel story, we might ask, “What, then, should we do?” I suspect, the Baptizer’s answer today would be no different that 2,000 years ago. “Bear fruit worthy of repentance!” But what does that look like for communities of comfort, for people of power and privilege? How do we share our food and clothes with those who have none? Are we being asked to start a soup kitchen or a clothes closet? While those are important ministries, I suspect something more is being asked of us, this Christmas season.

It seems to me that, as we prepare for the coming of the Holy One in our midst this Advent, we are being called out of the comforts and complacencies of our lives, away from our seats of power and privilege. To step down from our high places to meet the Spirit of God in the wilderness. We are being called to step away from those who protect our power and privilege to stand in solidarity with those at whose expense our comforts come. To encounter the incarnate Word amongst peoples who have been laid low, who paths have been made crooked and rough. And, to lay down the burdens of our power and privilege, that we might taste with our sisters and brothers of color a chosenness that is for all God’s children.

I believe that is John the Baptizer’s message for us, and it is a timely message this Christmas season. And, while it might not fit neatly into our Christmas pageants or Christmas carols, I suspect, that if we can take it seriously, we just might find that message is precisely the one we need as we prepare for the coming of our salvation.

So, this Christmas, I ask you to consider, what is your role in the God’s story of liberation and justice?