The show was, finally, over.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The air temperature had dropped quite a bit; in Bethlehem it could be chilly at night, even when the cave entrance where they were all gathered was being heated by a ten-kilowatt space heater.

Joseph, who had been crouched beside the manger, brushed ruefully at his bare knees as he stood up. The straw he had been kneeling on had left deep red grooves across his kneecaps. Behind him a couple of young shepherds, who had been holding two small lambs in vice-like grips, eased their hold. They instantly regretted it, as the small balls of wool stuck out feet into faces and paunches. The shepherds yelled and dropped the squirming creatures. The lambs bleated wildly as one of them nearly fell into the manger. They scooted off, in search of their mothers.

The film production crew was already doing a fast pack, dismantling microphone poles and lifting cameras off tripods. One of them was folding the director's chair away; and the director himself was already striding off toward his next artistic triumph ― until he stepped into a pile of hot, fresh dung. The director's angry yell startled the cow that had deposited it so much that it panicked and nearly knocked him over. The cow calmed down, sniffed at the manger, then turned and disappeared into the night after the great man.

Mary, who had nearly fallen asleep during the final few takes, stood up, wiped her brow and in doing so smeared some make-up into the corner of one of her eyes. She yelped in pain, so the boy with the teapot poured a little tea onto a tissue and offered it to her. She sighed and wiped her eye gently. No-one else took any notice.

They did pay attention, however, when one of the three wise men tripped as he caught one of his long, curly-pointed sandals in the skirt of his robe. Fortunately, he landed heavily on a bale of straw, whereupon the production health and safety officer gave a sigh of his own.

A man at the back, who had been invisibly holding a long pole with a star at the top, lowered the star so that one of the film cameramen could lift the star off the pole's end. The star's legs were folded neatly and it was packed in the microphone box.

An angel, who had been dangling at the cave entrance on a rope, started to protest and flap his wings. Realising that they had forgotten him, two of the production team ambled over, detached the rope and dropped him onto the net that the safety officer had insisted on placing there. They pulled the rope down and used it to package up the net.

Then they turned their attention to the last thing they had to dismantle: a star-studded backcloth at the cave mouth that had been hiding from view the garish Bethlehem night scene. One of the crew detached the poles holding up the sky and rolled it up, exposing the real world behind it. This included a queue of drive-through cars waiting at the nearby golden arch that the wise men of McDonalds had recently brought to the City of David.

Finally, the last cameramen took a long look round. He spotted a microphone cover and a crown that had been dropped and forgotten. He put the crown on, pushed the cover into his pocket and walked after the others towards the production team's van. Behind him, the electrician turned off the last film light, picked it up and followed. It was time to go; they had a plane to catch and they had everything that they thought they needed.

All that remained was the dark cave. In the middle of it was a manger, left there because it was a real one, set in the concrete floor. It was full of straw, not hay, which was why even the cow had departed in disgust.

Also left behind was Jesus. By the time they noticed that He was missing, there was no way to return for Him. He had been left far, far away, in a manger - as He is left by so very many. How few return to Him.

[George B. Hill (2013)]