Joseph headed on boldly down the main street of the village, with Mary somewhat more tentative, slowing down for contractions in their quest to find a room for the night, not alone mind you, but with angels, shepherds, kings and suitably robed local riff raff in tow as well as visitors who had dropped in during the afternoon for Poatina’s first Christmas market.
Their first attempt was thwarted by the deaf innkeeper who kept offering them a broom instead of a room, and responded to their request for somewhere to stay with an offer of hay. Amid constant miscommunication and much hilarity from onlookers, he directed them across the road to the motel, so the weary travellers headed off with a glimmer of hope.
Paying more attention to the constantly ringing phone than their plight, the motel manager was justifiably booed and jeered by the crowd as he turned Mary and Joseph away and sent them packing to the stable on the village green. With more puffing and panting from Mary, they finally arrived at their destination and miraculously produced a baby in the fastest labour ever witnessed under trying circumstances. Not exactly much privacy in an open stable.
With the resident sheep bleating in all the right places, the angels and shepherds did their bit, the kings came bearing gifts of coffee,
Traditions are something we consider as having been around for generations, sometimes centuries, events and rituals instigated to serve us as we attempt to express our personal beliefs as well as our communal life together.
They have the power to define us, to help us express who we are as people and communities and nations. Unfortunately, they can also confine us, constricting us into rigid systems of behaviour which over time feel alien to who we are and how we want to be seen. At such times we often find ourselves prevailing against these traditions, rejecting them, but at the same time feeling unable to replace them with something more meaningful.
Somewhere along the way a tradition has a starting point, and for this little village in the heart of Tasmania our annual Advent Pageant, complete with Aussie barbecue and market and loads of humour as the Christmas story is narrated and re-enacted, is one of the year’s highlights. It has become part of Poatina’s “story,” an event which places Christ at the heart of village life, a tradition which actually liberates people to cast off their daily persona, dress up, laugh and enjoy the company of others while hearing once again of the birth of Jesus.
As Christmas Day approaches and the machinery of getting everything done in time goes into overdrive, I find it helpful to reflect on the experience of Mary and Joseph’s epic journey and struggle to bring their child into the world in far from ideal circumstances. We can make Christmas so complicated, where really it should be so simple. Recognising Christ’s birth for what it is…God’s gift to us.
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