The sweetest moment of the Tableaux is when the congregation comes up to the chancel to see the baby in Mary's arms. Since there are four services offered, in order to accommodate the number of people who want to attend, the director contacts four mothers to bring their darlings for fifteen minutes of attention.

 

In truth there is sometimes a kerfuffle finding parents whose baby is young, but not too young to be vulnerable in public, and neither so old to be wary of strangers. There is a lifelike doll we can use in a pinch, but everyone prefers a a breathing baby, even if she never opens her eyes. Which the first one didn't. She lay peacefully snuggled and slept through the adoring gazes of five hundred people, and even the lurch of her brother trying to claim her as his own.

 

The second and third babies were cherubic and seemed to enjoy the music. All was well. 

The final service was blessed by the presence of a six-month-old boy who last month may have been nonplussed by the novelty of it all, but at this moment in his development knew that something was seriously wrong. This woman was not his mother, and no amount of patting and shushing could distract him. 

 

His real mother was a few feet away, but he did not see her. The choir kept singing, and he kept crying. 

 

Some of us found it hard to remember the words when this dear child was upset. We had never discussed a plan for this. 

 

For three painfully long minutes, a cathedral packed with people all poured their collective comfort to this little person. Anyone who had a trinket or toy in their pocket would have willingly offered it in lieu of gold. 

 

Finally, with a nod from the mother, an angel lifted the child from Mary's arms and took him where he wanted very much to be. We all sighed a unified deep breath. 

 

What moves me looking back is something I can neither measure nor prove. Yet, I feel certain that everyone present wanted that baby to be happy. Which is a miracle. 

 

In any random pack of persons there are those who are inevitably thinking about a wide array of concerns. But for that moment our hearts were turned toward the needs of one very human child.

 

It was a glimpse of what happens in more ways and times than can possibly be believed. When any one of us is in distress over a broken relationship or physical pain, there is a whole host of angels pointing their compassion toward us. We can neither see nor count them. Our sadness precludes any ability to notice. But sometimes later we can turn around and be astonished.