After six buses, three airplanes, several long hikes through and between terminals, and one rental car, we’ve arrived in Toledo at the height of crèche season. According to Rob, in some countries, there’s quite a competition this time of year in constructing the most elaborate and impressive crèche scene. I can’t yet tell whether Spain is one of those countries, but last night in our jet-lagged ramble around the marvelous warren-like alleyways of Toledo, we happened on an exquisite crèche.
It was an entire miniature villlage, with workers alongside wise men on laden camels, pilgrims and peasants. And my favorite part: actual live plants, bean sprouts and wheat grass, being tended by a tiny farmer. Of course! Why not incorporate living nature into this sculpted story of new birth, new aliveness, new turning toward the light?
Years ago I was working at a conference on religion and ecology, held on my campus. Our stunning new chapel had recently been completed: a place of awe and simple, profound beauty evocative of the caves where the first Christians had worshipped in secret. I loved the interior of the chapel from my first encounter. But one of the conference participants asked, where are the plants? Where is the living beauty of the earth in this sacred space?
Here in Toledo, in the littlest village.