‘Cover Stories’ Archives
SECULAR/SACRED
By Harvey Winje Here”'s the church, and here”'s the steeple Open the door and see all the people Try this old nursery rhyme with your hands the way it is illustrated here and then fold your hands again with your fingers outside and open the doors again to see all of the people gone from the church. Churches, like synagogues, mosques, and all gathering places of worship are just places. People go in and out of the places of worship taking their faith and their practices with them thereby combining the secular and the sacred. That is what was dramatically portrayed by “La Natividad” in December”'s seven performances in Phillips Community and one night at St. Mary”'s Basilica in downtown Mpls. (more…)
Migration-Themed Nativity Play Reaches New Audiences, but Loses ”˜Joseph”' to Deportation
By Linda Hartke Reprinted through the Courtesy of and Permission by Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service. It”'s great to use this article to lift up the voices of creative people who “Stand for Welcome.” I”'d like to introduce an interview by Luke Telander, LIRS Program Associate for Outreach, with Pastor Patrick Cabello Hansel of St. Paul”'s Lutheran Church of Minneapolis. The interview captures an amazing creative retelling of the Nativity, and the heartbreaking way in which modern life has intruded on the ancient story. The Nativity story has been retold in a myriad of ways. It has been adapted to the stage and the screen. It has been painted by everyone from Leonardo Da Vinci to Paul Gaugin. It has been translated into Spanish and Mandarin, Tagalog and French. In the Phillips Community of Minneapolis, however, the age-old story was told in a Completely unique way, and with particular poignancy, given today”'s immigration [...]
La Natividad*
By Patrick Cabello Hansel Maria, you shop for tortillas, the tongue”'s comfort, a bed to lay the evening meal upon. One eye out for La Migra, one ear cocked for a shout, a boot, a hard knock on the door. You hear the bells of tricky angels troubling, you listen to the voice of God that tells you your womb is a quarry of bright diamonds, a pond bearing wounded fish into the world. How to explain that to a man who spends his days talking to wood? Finally, you walk. Together and alone. You take your feet and the child feasting on your darkness and you carry into the night, trusting that the dust you walk on, the water you caress with your eyes is the same dust, the same dew God used to make the world, to make the man and woman one and apart and free. You cross a bridge, you don”'t look back, you march into the holy, abandoned rock where beasts assemble and you wait. One by one the heavenly beings return, with four paws and two, with wings and [...]
