The manger is the message.

As a high-school freshman I became enthralled with learning more about liturgy - I am certain I was the only 13-year-old who attended the national liturgical conference - and I convinced my family to put the Wise Men (a.k.a. the Three Kings) a long distance from the manger scene. This way, I argued, we can move them a little each day, plotting their arrival at Epiphany, then celebrated on January 6. Though the more traditional among the family missed the hobnobbing of shepherds and kings, sheep and camel, they humored me.

Because of the less structured days once Christmas vacation began, these Wise Men journeyed at greatly differing rates. Their arrival to the crib scene coincided with Epiphany only because someone rescued them from the window sill, a pit stop sometime in late December. It will not come as a surprise that I was unable to convince my family that the shepherds had overstayed their time. They remained there until Epiphany.

My interest in the Nativity may have been advanced for my age, but it wasn't until much later that I came to understand the theology behind it. Since the characters of the traditional nativity scene are drawn from different gospels, our nativity scenes are multifaceted presentations of the meaning of Jesus to the early church.

A creche gives a more developed picture than any single gospel can give, though it also emphasizes the nonhistorical character of these narratives. Viewing the gospel nativity scenes as faith statements, we can see beyond the narratives and the pageants of our grade-school days to the messages of the original authors.

Before examining the individual elements of the Nativity, it is important to recognize the apocalyptic nature of the gospels. Apocalyptic writing is hang-in-there material and proliferates in times of oppression. These writings assure the faithful that the present difficulties are known to God, who stands poised to bring destruction and death to the oppressors and salvation and life to those who believe. This redeeming act would come swiftly, heralded by signs in the heavens. As with the Exodus, the plan of God will favor the least likely - by God's choice, not human expectations.

Each of the four gospels proclaims that God acts in Jesus. Each assures the readers that the new age, the time of redemption, has begun with the resurrection of Jesus. Each gospel describes the Baptism of Jesus as the public announcement of the messianic role of Jesus. Hence the Good News is proclaimed in the Baptism, illustrated by the various events that follow, and verified by the resurrection and ascension.

One wonders, then, what was to be gained by the addition of the infancy narratives. Even if they could be explained as natural developments over time or as fervent imitations of the stories of other great men, both biblical and nonbiblical, one still has to deal with the particulars of the narratives as found in Matthew and Luke.

Both Matthew and Luke ascribe the conception of Jesus to the Holy Spirit, thus pushing the moment of Jesus' baptism back to the time of his human origins. It is against this extraordinary backdrop that we see the Nativity in its various elements, beginning with the place of Jesus' birth.

To fulfill scripture, the Messiah had to be born in Bethlehem. Luke, somewhat of a romantic and definitely fond of the journey motif, sends Mary and Joseph from Galilee to Judea. The reason given for this trip - registration for the census - creates a somewhat haphazard picture of people crisscrossing the land at Rome's command. Some readers might wonder what is wrong with this picture, if they were not aware of Luke's unflagging efforts to present Jesus, his family, and his followers as good citizens of the Empire. Matthew, a more cut-to-the-chase fellow, begins his account with Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem.

Although the two versions appear to give us a choice of abode for the holy family , we have universally opted for barn over bungalow. Perhaps it is because we can more easily assemble the characters there; perhaps we feel more comfortable with Jesus the outsider, the ultimate least likely.

Matthew's audience probably influenced his presentation of the material. Matthew writes for a predominately Jewish community who, following the destruction of the Temple in 70 A.D., must develop its self-identity in opposition to those Jews who did not accept Jesus as the Messiah.

Enter from the East the Wise Men, Matthew's major characters to visit the Infant King. Quite likely these figures are intended to bring to mind the visits received by Solomon, first and only son of David to occupy his father's throne. In I Kings 5:14, it is written, "Men from all nations came to hear Solomon's wisdom, and he received gifts from all the kings of the world, who heard of his wisdom." Later in I Kings 10:10, the Queen of Sheba's visit to King Solomon is recounted: "And she presented the king with a hundred and twenty talents of gold and great quantities of spices and precious stones."

Matthew's Magi fall to their knees, certainly fulfilling in the author's mind the words of the prophet Isaiah: "Kings will be your foster fathers.... They will fall prostrate before you" (Isa. 49:23). This action likewise reflects the hopes of the psalmist who says of the promised king: "The kings of Sheba and Seba will offer gifts; all kings will do him homage" (Ps. 72:10).

Reflecting the failure of the Jewish authorities to accept Jesus - which is found throughout the gospel and particularly in the Passion story - Matthew presents King Herod as having easy access to the chief priests and scribes. Even when, according to the story, scripture supports the birth in Bethlehem of the awaited king and Herod appears to receive the Good News, we, the readers, know the real ending of the story.

Maybe our traditional crib scene would portray the message of Matthew's account more clearly if it included not only the Wise Men and their gifts, representing the wealth of Arabia, but also a statue of Herod at the rear, facing away from the crib, perhaps surrounded by the chief priests and scribes. Then, perhaps, we might more easily see the lesson of the least likely: those expected to recognize the Messiah do not, while the pagan nations hurry to worship him.

Where Matthew had the star, Luke has an angel, surrounded by a multitude of angels. These figures are a little tricky for the average crib arranger, but their absence diminishes the apocalyptic tone of the message. Signs in the heavens are inseparably connected with the good news that the new age has begun.

Matthew had said merely, "She gave birth to a son" (1:25). Luke includes two deceptively simple details. He describes Jesus as "her firstborn" and notes that "she wrapped him in swaddling clothes" (2:7). As in Matthew, these details highlight the royal nature of the infant and his right as firstborn to the throne of David - and, perhaps, also to the glories of heaven, to which he ascends at the conclusion of Luke's gospel.

In Wisdom 7:4, Solomon is said to declare: "I was nurtured in swaddling clothes, with every care." Since the Book of Wisdom was written less than 50 years before the birth of Jesus, one could think of it as the book of the century, and quotations from it would be widely recognized.

Luke's manger has become the traditional housing for millions of crib scenes down through the ages. Certainly a stable is more romantic than Matthew's house. But more important, using the manger "because there was no room for them in the inn" stresses the poor treatment of Jesus in the city of David his father. Later, Luke's Jesus will weep over Jerusalem for this same reason.

The shepherds of Luke's account are a striking contrast to the people of Bethlehem. Thought of as crude, dishonest, and lawless, these recipients of the heavenly message eagerly travel to Bethlehem to "see this thing which has happened and which the Lord has made known to us" (2:15). Again, the least likely see what the more likely candidates miss. Here again the drama of the scene could be heightened by having a group of houses, and the sign "Bethlehem," off to the side and turned away from the crib. This arrangement would offer the contrast of nonrecognition to the shepherds' recognition.

In the traditional creche, we allow the shepherds to bring along their sheep, a conclusion supported neither by the text nor by common sense.

Unlike the Wise Men, about whose lives after visiting the infant Jesus we can only muse, the shepherds are said to have gone back "glorifying God for all they had seen and heard" (2:20). This closing is in keeping with all of Luke's writings in which every character witnesses to what God has done in Jesus. It is a pity there is no way to show this in the crib scene.

Only two of the regulars of the standard crib scene remain unaccounted for: the ox and the ass. These have garnered a place in the manger not through a mention in the text but through an association of ideas. The word manger triggers the thought of barn animals, which calls to mind the prophecy of Isaiah: "The ox knows its owner and the ass its master's crib; Israel knows nothing" (Isa. 1:3).

No doubt these words were frequently hurled accusingly by Jesus' followers at those Jews who did not accept Jesus. Certainly, Jesus' followers identified with the Wise Men and the shepherds and wept for - even as they argued with - those who did not see what God had wrought in Jesus.

As we arrange our creches, let us remember that we have a virtual snapshot showing only those who accepted Jesus and omitting from the sidelines those who did not. The crib scene is, so to speak, an apocalyptic preview. We know from the beginning of the gospel that things are not what they seem to be. There is more to Jesus than meets the eye; his very presence offers the redeeming power of God to those who hear of him. And so we get a glimpse of the evangelizing power of the nativity stories.

Let us take time to reflect that this scene concentrates not on the historical facts of Jesus' birth but on the lesson of the least likely. None of the people or places in the story as told by Matthew or by Luke are what the world expected. Let us ponder these things in our heart, like Mary, for we know how easy it is to miss the least likely in our everyday lives.