Belén de Mijas

I was again up early enough to see another gorgeous early dawn, and after completing routine chores, the only question left was what to do with my final day? I settled on a trip up to Mijas Pueblo curious to see if the Belén nativity scene was in place in the Parish Church, as on my last visit, the scenery was in the first stages of preparation. I guessed that Advent Sunday might be the launch date, and I was correct. The shepherds visiting the manger scene was nearest the high altar. The three kings were spread out down the bays of the nave, and at the West end was a palace with Herod ordering the slaughter of the innocents.

I strolled around the streets, enjoying the village atmosphere. On my last visit it was just waking up from siesta. This time I arrived at ten and all the shops were open, visitors arriving and locals out meeting and greeting if not shopping. It so reminded me of my time in Taormina last December, and that gave me great cheer. I found the town's small modern covered market building in a side street.

  I took a look around. Half of the two dozen stalls had their shutters down, so my stay was very brief.

The local cofrida has a street chapel dedicated to San Sebastian, and a few hundred metres further along is their confraternity house, where processional equipment is stored and their historical archives kept. The cofrida is dedicated to Cristo de La Paz - the Christ of peace, and the Virgen de la Peña. 

A notice at the chapel indicated their Belén had been blessed and inaugurated yesterday, at this address so I went along to see what they had created. A recording of children singing Andalusian folk carols played over a public address system helped me to identify the place I was looking for. Above it, on the next street, judging by the background noise of children playing, was a school yard. 

Just to the left of the front door is a vestibule about seven metres by five, containing a substantial model village, depicting hundreds of animated figures of its rural population about their daily activities, herding sheep, milking goats and cows,  chopping wood, beating olives from tree branches. There's a water-mill, also a fisherman unloading his catch - all the normality of rural life. Embedded within this setting are scenes that represent all the biblical nativity stories. Charming certainly, but more than that.

It's profound in the way it allows the visitor to discover and re-discover the threads of narrative in any order or fashion they wish, but here is the Unique in the midst of the ordinary. The Wise men are out in the streets searching. In one corner Jesus being presented in the temple. In another the Holy Family is fleeing off to Egypt, in another, Mary is visited by Archangel Gabriel, and in another Elizabeth being visited by Mary.  So much to see, so much to ask questions about. But, the biggest, boldest non-literary statement however, is in the landscape design.

Herod's armed camp and his evil deeds are at the highest point, dominating the temple and everyday life. You have to look for the birthplace of the Christ-child. The cave is hidden deep beneath the fortress hill. The light of the Christ of Peace is making space in the bedrock at the heart of a world overshadowed by violence. Mary and Joseph are there with ox and ass, and there are a couple of angels too, but the surprise comes from the presence of an unidentified woman visitor, who has just placed what looks like a picnic basket before the Holy Family. A figure of hospitality. No words needed.

A great deal of thought has gone into making this traditional work of religious art so much more than a feast of folk craft modelling. Our nativity scenes back in Northern Europe don't go nearly as far as those in the south in giving witness to the wealth of meaning to be found in the story of the incarnation. To be fair we do very creative things (for better or for worse) with nativity plays of all kinds, but there is ever a risk that these will be little more than seasonal entertainment for nostalgic sentiment. There's something to be learned and maybe emulated in this tradition.

There was so much detail to see that no photograph could do justice to this scene. I just have to leave the rest to your imagination.