Little things confound the wise and contain God's greatest gifts. Signs of God's love surround us, yet often go unnoticed. The gift of a starry night, the smile of a stranger or the fragrance of a flower could touch your soul at just the right moment. Life is a difficult journey but people make it harder when they close their eyes to the messages God sends every day. Yet every year in Bruce Mines, a small northern Ontario village, people trudge through the snow to experience the Christmas story. People come by busloads. When I first heard about this Holy Walk, my imagination ran with it.
My vision was an interactive play involving the audience in a guided walk to Bethlehem. The idea was presented as a 50th anniversary project for our church, St. Giles', St. Catharines, Ont. Our minister, Rev. Tijs Theijsmeijer, was a very supportive advisor. The skepticism from the congregation was understandable. “December is too cold. No one would walk outdoors. It's too dangerous taking people across a busy street at night. Finding 150 people, actors and crew, is impossible. Costumes? Sets? Do you know how much this would cost?” On top of that I added my own mental note: the play hadn't even been written yet. Surprisingly, we got the green light, and I sat down in front of white paper in the summer of 2003 and started hyperventilating. What was I thinking? How could I write about these holy people and do them justice? Once I pondered how I would react if my daughter came home saying she was a pregnant virgin who had talked to an angel, the ideas just flowed. These were ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances and they rose to the task. God didn't wave a magic wand over them. They had to deal with the problems their visions created for them, just as we have to deal with ours. And my fingers started typing.
We got some money from the Experimental Fund of the Presbyterian Church. That financing made it feasible. People came forward. Very quickly we had a producer, musical director, stage manager, public relations, set designer, carpenters and a few costumes. We even had the most beautiful stained glass lanterns for the outdoor garden scenes. We had light for the way, a reason to hope.
Then things went awry. People were too busy to commit to the play; many were heavily involved in regular church activities in addition to our anniversary events. A financial deficit became a big concern in our church, adding pressure. Then another crisis in the congregation threatened to divide us. It took everyone's mind and energy for months. By now it was spring 2004. Plans for the play were stalled. It looked rather bleak. Failure was a distinct possibility but I figured that God must have a reason for taking us in this direction and surely some good would come of it. In one of my many prayers I remember saying, “What a mess. There's no way I can do this. It's mighty hopeless, but I'll keep going. It'll be quite a miracle if You pull it off, Lord.”
And then, just as suddenly, it began to come together again. One woman single-handedly outfitted a cast of more than 100 people. We found a great director. Ordinary people became wonderful actors, amazing us all. Volunteers came from outside the church too. One man offered to bring shepherds and real animals. Like a puzzle, pieces started falling into place. We were all novices but we supported and encouraged each other. Many of us, strangers when we started this project, became friends. This was a mammoth undertaking but by October I was convinced it would work.
The night of the first performance came, a clear night with stars. We had a steady stream of people, until the church was half full. The audience watched the Journey of Hope, then became part of it as they were led in small groups to Rio Lane, the street of a million lights, known as Bethlehem for this weekend. Told to look for three signs, they were confronted by the outcasts, the sellers, the rich, the poor and the angelic. On the return journey, they carried candles. Almost everyone passed by the baby tucked quietly in our church nursery and most of them never noticed. Only later during refreshments, when Rev. Tijs talked about the meaning of the signs, did people realize they had missed the child.
Seeing the play as a whole, the actors and crew really got into the spirit of it. The audience grew for each performance. At the final performance on Sunday, people were standing in line waiting to get into the church. A full house! Some had come three times to see it. One woman said she had brought her teenagers kicking and screaming but they left saying it was so awesome.
The reaction to the play was indescribable. We felt truly blessed as people spoke of the deep feelings it had evoked for them. Each of us had contributed talents and resources for something greater than ourselves. There were magic moments when you could feel the grace of God among us. None of us knew how this would turn out. It was a lot of work, yet what a privilege to touch the lives of people, especially those who do not go to church, with the message of love, carried over 2,000 years ago by a tiny child with outstretched arms, a child who still reaches out in little miracles every day of our lives. We are all on a journey of hope. Watch for the signs.
