Ralph Whitlock, a columnist for the British newspaper the Manchester Guardian, once described a nativity play that brings the playfulness and mystery of God to life in a wonderful way. It is a reminder that Epiphany, the season that celebrates the manifestation of Jesus’ divinity, is but a deepening of the implications of the Christmas story. Whitlock’s own epiphany came in an East African village, where with a seasoned companion he witnessed a manger scene acted out in a village around an old mission compound, miles out in the bush. The story goes like this:

The church was packed. The noise exceeded that of a proverbial magpie roost. Families struggled in, with the maximum of fuss, to settle down on benches, only to get up again a few minutes later to take junior urgently outside. Huge moths fluttered in, pursued by equally large bats.

Across one end of the building, curtains concealed a temporary stage, and from the dressing rooms behind, an equally vociferous cacophony resounded. After a time a stately lady emerged and made her way to the harmonium, from which she pumped out carols, some of which were vaguely recognizable. The half-hours drifted on, but who could be bored with so much uninhibited entertainment going on all around?

Some years earlier a missionary had written a nativity play for the church, which had used it ever since. As the seasons passed, however, sheets of the script were lost, and now only the first five or six pages were left. In no way deterred, the producer and cast used those. We sang a carol which I presently identified as “O come all ye faithful.”...Came a roll of drums, and the curtains parted. The Angel Gabriel strode in to announce to Mary, who sat quietly on a stool, that she was to have a baby.

In succession we were treated to a parade of the shepherds, the Wise Men and King Herod, each visitation being introduced by another carol. The audience was entranced. Then came a hiatus. The curtain was pulled along, and the building was unduly quiet.

“What’s happening?” I whispered, “Oh, this is where they’ve come to the end of the script, and now they have to decide what happens next,” said my companion.

As I spoke voices were raised behind the curtain. The audience listened enchanted, as the arguments grew louder and more heated. “They’re having the usual argument,” my companion advised me. “They never think of working it out beforehand.”

A child in the front row got up and peeped through the join in the curtain. After a moment he shouted something and beckoned to his mother, who went to look. Others followed her, and as there was evidently something worth seeing, they had soon pulled the curtains wide open. There, making his way from a corner of the stage crawled a chubby black baby, nearly naked.

Delighted to see so many beaming faces, the infant made her way to the center of the stage, like an old professional, sat down, with a beatific smile on her face. The audience shouted their appreciation. Suddenly there arose a greater commotion from the dressing rooms, where evidently consternation prevailed. “Hey! Where’s that baby? Where’s baby Jesus?” The audience told them with a roar of delight, “She’s here! She’s here already!”