The Empty Manger

By Drue Duke

It was Christmas Eve, 1933. Mama was preparing to bake her "hard-times fruit cake."--So called because the only similarity to fruit it contained was prunes. But it was, to our family, an extra-special cake. My sisters, Lottie, Vivian, Estelle and Dolly, and I sat around the kitchen table shelling pecans for the cake. None of us, except Mama, was enthusiastic, and I suspected her gaiety was partly put on. It was the Saturday night dress rehearsal of the Christmas pageant to be presented at the worship service the next night. I sat on one of the folding chairs which had been set up in the fellowship hall of our church, sulking. I should be up on that stage in the role of Mary, I fumed. Never in my entire sixteen years had I been more amazed than when Mr. Elliott, who was in charge, announced that Eloise would have the role. Why, I was experienced. I'd been in every pageant that church ever had. "We're using some fresh, new actors," Mr. Elliott explained when I questioned his choice. "But I'm counting on you to help backstage." So that's how I got stuck with the job of property chairman, rounding up all that stuff they use on the stage, like the manger and hay and a doll to represent the Baby Jesus. I watched the action. Now the shepherds were coming in. Eloise leaned down to pick up the Baby out of the manger. She stopped, looked confused, whispered something to the boy playing Joseph. He looked into the manger and shrugged. Mr. Elliott's voice rang from the back of the room, "What's the problem?"
"There's no baby in here," Eloise answered. I heard my name shouted, but I was already on my feet, headed for the door that led backstage. There, in the wings, in a box, lay the stuffed doll, just where I had left it. I ran onto the stage, laid the doll in the manger and shrunk out as fast as I could through the nearest stage exit. I hid in the wings as I heard Mr. Elliott call, "Is everything set now? Good. Let's go on." The pageant continued without further interruption, and as soon as all of the cast cleared the stage I hurried on to gather up the props. I hoped to get through and leave before anyone could say anything about my mistake. But I was not quick enough. Mr. Elliott came on the stage, and as I reached for the doll, he said, "Wait just a minute. Let's talk." I was certain he was going to scold me, and I stiffened to ward off his angry words. Instead, his voice was very soft. "You didn't like serving as property chairman, did you?" he asked. I only shook my lowered head to indicate that indeed I did not like the job. "In fact, you rather resented it, didn't you?" I either had to admit that, which I didn't relish doing, or lie about it. So I said nothing. "I didn't choose you to play Mary," he said, "because you don't need the experience. You are not shy like Eloise. She needs to learn to get up in front of people, and I want to help her. I needed someone to handle all the miscellaneous things to outfit the stage, someone I could depend on. I thought I had that someone in you." I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry I failed you," I muttered. "No, my dear," he said, "it wasn't I whom you failed." He squatted down beside the manger which still held the doll. "Look at this," he said. "Do you see what you left out?" I looked at the doll; then at him,
"This doll represents the Lord Jesus in this pageant," he said. "Doesn't that say something to you?" I knew at once what he meant. I nodded, and he waited for me to speak. "When I get angry or jealous," I said slowly, "I might leave Jesus out?" "When you get angry or jealous," he amended, "you are sure to leave Jesus out. Out of your plans, out of your life, out of your heart. Don't forget that." I picked the doll up and held it close to me. "I won't forget," I said. And I was sure I never would.

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