A Different Kind of Nativity

Christmas-Refugees[/caption] The refugee nativity scene created by St.-Columba-by-the-Lake, Pointe Claire, Que.

What might the Christmas story look like from the perspective of a refugee? That was the question that St. Columba’s Team for Refugee Action asked as it designed the theme for Advent 2010. With the support of our minister, Ian Fraser, and fellow St. Columban, Glynis Williams, director of Action Réfugiés Montréal, we set to work to use the season to spotlight our desire to sponsor a refugee family to Canada.
As we studied the biblical text, we realized Jesus himself was a refugee. Mary and Joseph were internally displaced people, forced from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and then were refugees, going from Judea to Egypt to flee the whim of a powerful monarch.
The theme we chose was “Displaced,” initially referring to the displaced refugee. We wanted to understand how difficult it must be for a refugee to start over in a very different country. We talked about how this would feel, the obstacles that would have to be overcome, and the very real truth that although “saved” from whatever threats they needed saving from, they were still leaving home and everything they knew. These reflections led us to realize that we, as Christians, often feel displaced. We have become displaced persons as we live lives of entitlement in a world of consumerism and self – centeredness. Our need for food, shelter, and clothing has been displaced by the god of consumption. Dare we admit it, but we often lose the true meaning of Christmas. Even more, we are displaced from God as we compartmentalize our lives and distance ourselves from God’s all – encompassing love. Not only are we displaced, and not only are refugees displaced, but God, too, is displaced and thus our Advent theme was formed.
By creating a very different nativity from the traditional ones that decorate our churches and homes, we wanted to remind passersby of another way to view the Christmas story.
To create the scene we wrapped a few willing accomplices with a lot of industrial plastic wrap, gently cut them out, and pieced the hollow shapes back together to make our faceless human forms.
We were going to draw faces, but decided that a faceless form would better speak to our story. We had the shape of a man and a woman leaning over a crib in what could have been a refugee tent. We had UN bags of “food,” old dishes lying around and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Our scene was complete.
I remember standing in the tent, placing the hands and arms, and feeling a sense of gentleness. How must it have felt for Joseph and Mary, in a new town, nowhere to sleep, with meager belongings and a new baby, not knowing what would happen next? At that moment I was grateful for the courage and resilience of Mary, Joseph, Jesus and so many others who dare to incarnate the love of God even in such terrible, inhuman circumstances.
We received many puzzled looks from parishioners and neighbours alike. Folks wondered what this was about… where were the halos? Where was the beautiful baby Jesus? And yet, they knew this was a nativity scene—why had we changed it? By jolting people out of their comfort zones, we achieved our goal. This wasn’t about making ourselves feel better (by sponsoring a refugee), it wasn’t about the fairy tale Christmas season with presents and eggnog, it wasn’t even about singing carols and spending time with family; it was, and is, about remembering the truth: We are all God’s children. We are all displaced in one way or another, and yet, God has not abandoned us. And the birth of Jesus is our proof.