Refresh the Crèche

and a Christmas poetry slam in my living room

So I guess this is just me, on behalf of the drunks and the postpartum mothers, making the case for a crèche that reveals Jesus’ humanity. It is me, along with the tow-truck drivers and nail technicians and juvenile delinquents, who need to see the earthiness of his birth.

Photo by Philippa Lowe on Unsplash

Refresh the Crèche 

Published in Aletheia Today’s Yuletide 2023 issue last week. Here’s how it starts—click the “Keep Reading” button to finish it over on their site. And while you’re at it, stay a while!

A bejeweled nativity scene sits atop our mantle every year at Christmastime. Despite baby Jesus’ missing arm (somewhere in the handing down, he came down one hand), the whole crèche is quite elegant. The camel looks regal in his saddle, the livestock are radiant, and the three wise men wear gems upon their fashionable turbans. Mary is glowing in golden frocks—naturally—and Joseph remains stoic, despite having just witnessed the horrific, beautiful shock called childbirth. All of the figures are white, clean, and blushing. 

I studied each figure this year as I unwrapped them from fragments of bubble wrap and paper towels, blowing a dead fly from Jesus’ cradle. In past seasons, I have felt a swelling in my throat as I unveiled and arranged the scene with nostalgic care.

 But this year felt different.

Maybe it was that I, myself, had just given birth—but as I held the perfectly composed Mary in my hand, she no longer felt believable. She was no warm-blooded woman who had just had a baby without medical care or epidural; she was just cold and ceramic. The same went for the wooly sheep, gleaming white despite living in a barn, and baby Jesus, looking resplendent with his crown of golden hair and impressive pectoral muscles. 

I’m sure these figurines were fashioned by well-intentioned people—devout Christians, even—who meant for such finery to display the glory of the Lord and the divinity of his birth. Won’t these look beautiful on the mantle, I bet they sighed, imagining families across the world  gazing upon the flaxen scene and feeling the comforts of Christmas. 

But in that moment, I was struck by the irony that this crèche meant to point us toward Jesus’ wondrous demonstration of humility had the odd effect of removing it, instead. These figurines were decked out and dignified; they weren’t at all the type one might feel akin to. How odd, I thought. I want to be drawn to these, but they feel so…lofty. I couldn’t help but notice that this nativity’s portrayal of Jesus made me feel distant from him, looking so magisterial there in his manger. Jesus’ birth should remind us that holiness cohabitates with the common. So why do we feel inclined to dress up the humble bits in emeralds and gold? 

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Featured Poetry

Last week, the Fall 2023 Collection: Restoration, came out from The Way Back To Ourselves literary journal, and it’s just lovely. It features work from nearly 50 writers & poets, and many of them have become my friends over this past year.

I was fortunate enough to have two poems featured in this issue. By all means—please read them, but then stick around with a hot cup of coffee and peruse the other beautiful writings, too. They’re really fabulous.

“Storytellers” Poetry Contest Winner: DO NOT PREACH

I have something to say:


You don’t notice me,
But I hear your conversation:
Tangled in ego
And theology
You do not feel the world around you,
I think.
I know because I’ve been there, too—
My head in heavenly places,
My heart so solid and decided.

“Disgrace, disciples, we just keep digging.”
You talk in circles,
Trying to make sense of God
For someone else.

But rather:
Look in his eyes.
Come, alight your heart in humanity.

TOMATO ON THE VINE

There’s still a tomato on the vine.
It is hanging on
green,
when it should have been ripe
by now.

The plant is yellow.
Its fingers are curling
into fragile fists
that droop in lackluster
rebellion
against Old Man Winter.

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