Hamilton Herald Masthead

Editorial


Front Page - Friday, December 17, 2010

I Swear...


Pageant time again!



It is again the time of year! The time that reminds me, and others, of seasonal pageants past. As readers of this column know, I’m particularly fond of telling the tale of a pageant involving my own offspring. I also cannot let the season come and go without recounting one famously written of by William Muehl.
And, of course, there is also the pageant written about by John Irving in “A Prayer for Owen Meany,” the one directed each year by Rev. and Mrs. Wiggin in the village of Sawyer Depot. The one that made Owen Meany mad.
Owen, the protagonist of this 1989 novel, took issue with the fact that “the smaller children were disguised as turtledoves. The costumes were so absurd that no one knew what these children were supposed to be; they resembled science-fiction angels, spectacular life-forms from another galaxy, as if the Wiggins had decided that the Holy Nativity had been attended by beings from faraway planets.”
The Wiggins also, in the spirit of “Away in a Manger,” and as though it were the Gospel itself, insisted, as to Baby Jesus, that “no crying he makes.” To enforce this stipulation, “they were relentless in gathering dozens of babies backstage; they substituted babies so freely that the Christ Child was whisked from the manger at the first unholy croak or gurgle ….”
It bothered Owen that “whoever played Joseph was always smirking–as if Joseph had anything to smirk about. ‘WHAT DOES JOSEPH HAVE TO DO WITH ANY OF IT?’ Owen asked crossly. ‘I SUPPOSE HE HAS TO STAND AROUND THE MANGER, BUT HE SHOULDN’T SMIRK!’ And always the prettiest girl got to play Mary. ‘WHAT DOES PRETTY HAVE TO DO WITH IT?’ Owen asked. ‘WHO SAYS MARY WAS PRETTY?’”
When I was 32, I played the role of Joseph. Mary’s role was filled by the pretty girl to whom I am still married. We landed these parts because our four month-old, Ted, was solicited to play Jesus. Our three year-old, Liz, cast as an angel, was instructed to stand beside us throughout the performance.
In a particularly Presby-terian scene, a dozen teenaged angels danced to a modern ballet arrangement of “Away in a Manger.” As Mary and I looked on, we were surprised to see a tiny angel bringing up the rear of the dance line, hopping, skipping, whirling as the spirit moved her. We’d been so busy trying to ensure that Baby Jesus make no crying that we failed to see Liz fall in with the ballerinas.
Which leads to Dr. Meuhl’s experience. The former Yale Divinity professor and his wife were at a nursery-school Christmas play. As the manger scene began, three Virgin Marys appeared on stage. The school had received three Mary costumes over the years and did not want any to go to waste. For similar reasons, there were two Josephs.
The Holy Quintet entered the stage, followed shortly by 20 angels in diaphanous gowns with large wings of gauze. Then came the shepherds, 20 boys “dressed in burlap sacks and clutching an assortment of saplings which purported to be crooks. At this point an unfortunate discovery came to light.
“In order to be sure the angels and shepherds struck a pleasantly-balanced array on stage, the drama coach had made a series of chalk marks on the floor: a circle for each angel and a cross for each shepherd. She had urgently instructed these children that they were all to find and stand on the appropriate symbols.
“But, unwisely, this marking had been done when the pupils were wearing their ordinary clothes: shorts, skirts and blue jeans. When the angels came on, in their flowing robes, each of them covered not only their own circle, but the adjacent cross as well.
“The shepherds began looking for their places. Angels were treated as they had never been treated before. And at last, one little boy who had suffered through as much of this nonsense as he could handle, turned to where the teacher in charge was quietly going mad, and announced angrily: ‘These damn angels are fouling up the whole show! They’ve hidden all the crosses.’
“Needless to say, his mother and I were deeply embarrassed.”
Happy holidays to all!
Vic Fleming is a district court judge in Little Rock, Arkansas, where he also teaches at the William H. Bowen School of Law. Contact him at vicfleming@att.net.