Nativity Scenes: A Legacy of Faith and Resistance to Cherish

A centuries-old tradition, the representation of the baby Jesus in his manger brings the mystery of the Incarnation to life in town squares, churches and families. In France, their popularity is inextricably linked to the persecutions of the Revolution. Today, the battle over nativity scenes continues to rage—a sign of contradiction for the world.

Legend and history trace the invention of the nativity scene back to the 13th century and St. Francis of Assisi, who staged the birth of Jesus with animals and shepherds in the small village of Greccio for Christmas in 1223. Returning from the Holy Land, he was struck by the natural setting of a small cave that seemed perfect for recreating, on Italian soil, the first moments of Christ on earth. He set up a manger and hay, brought in a donkey and an ox, and then celebrated Mass, surrounded by brothers and villagers who came to admire the Gospel re-enactment—with fervour, songs and torches. A few years later, a chapel was built near the cave, and the Franciscans spread the simple and charming devotion of the nativity scene in their convents, soon to be imitated by other religious orders.

However, representations of the Nativity are attested to before this episode. A century earlier, during the ‘mysteries,’ those semi-secular, semi-religious performances held in churches and cathedral forecourts, the faithful already enjoyed representing the birth of Christ ‘in real life.’

Later, in the 16th century, the rise of nativity scenes in churches coincided with the Counter-Reformation and the Council of Trent. Encouraged by Jesuits and Oratorians, the nativity scene became one of the most obvious manifestations of the divine incarnation. Magnificent nativity scenes with expressive and colourful figures, sometimes of imposing dimensions, adorned churches from the beginning of Advent until the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin, which marks the end of the Christmas season at the beginning of February. 

Some countries stand out with particularly rich traditions: in Catholic Central Europe, where Baroque art triumphed, or in Naples, some nativity scenes are true masterpieces, often created by anonymous artists. In the nativity scene, the baby Jesus is humbly worshipped. A few decades later, in Central Europe, devotion to the Infant Jesus of Prague perpetuated this tradition.

The preferred location for nativity scenes was the church. For a long time, domestic nativity scenes were a rare privilege reserved for wealthy aristocratic families. In France, the Revolution led to the widespread development of family nativity scenes, particularly in Provence, where they acquired a very distinctive style.

Political upheaval was accompanied by religious persecution. After imposing the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, the Revolution went on to close the churches. In December 1791, in Marseille, the revolutionary authorities closed the churches. Nativity scenes were effectively banned. The faithful were thus deprived of the opportunity to contemplate these touching scenes depicting Joseph, Mary, and the baby Jesus during the Christmas period. A Marseillais named Jean-Louis Lagnel then had the idea of moulding ‘santons’ (meaning ‘little saints’ in Provençal) in raw clay, which were easy to reproduce, so that devout families could pray at home, away from prying eyes and public persecutors. The forbidden faith was then passed on within families, in secret, and the nativity scene became one of the main symbols of this inner resistance. The nativity scenes were displayed in glass boxes, with rockery decorations combining paper flowers and small pieces of glass.

The practice was initially limited to the city of Marseille but soon spread throughout Provence. Gradually, the Provençal nativity scene became enriched with a whole range of unique folklore. A popular story gave meaning to all the figurines that took their place in it: the pastoral. In this simple, naive story, we find the central figures of Joseph and Mary, flanked by the ox and the donkey, but also a whole cohort of colourful characters expressing the life of a Provençal village. 

There are several versions of the pastoral story. The most famous, written by Antoine Maurel in 1844, is entirely in Provençal. In the twentieth century, a French version by Yvan Audouard made it known throughout France. It features very human characters. The good Saint Joseph, rough but full of common sense, is on the verge of losing his nerve in the face of the impossible task entrusted to him by God: to take care of his newborn son on a freezing night when the mistral wind is blowing. The Virgin Mary, the ‘good mother’ of the people of Marseille, is a figure full of gentleness and contemplation who meditates in her heart on the mystery of the incarnation of her divine son. The pastoral scene is also an opportunity to showcase figures borrowed from Provençal literature, such as the young lovers Vincent and Mireille, inspired by Frédéric Mistral’s poem, who come to have their thwarted love blessed and sanctified before the divine cradle.

In France, the Provençal nativity scene has now become a tradition widely shared beyond the borders of historic Provence. In churches and families, nativity scenes come in a thousand different forms, varying in degree of deviation from their southern origins. Not so long ago, it was commonplace to see nativity scenes on display in shops, schools, and public squares. In 1960, Paris proudly hosted “the world’s largest nativity scene” under a huge marquee.

Today, taking us back to the dark days of the Revolution, nativity scenes have become a political issue. Installing a nativity scene in full view of everyone, rather than simply in one’s living room, has become an act of provocation that will certainly not lead to the guillotine but can get you into serious trouble with the courts. Some elected officials have understood this well and do not hesitate to engage in a power struggle with the justice system in order to install nativity scenes in places where they are no longer welcome. This is an opportunity for them to reaffirm their attachment to a centuries-old tradition that marks France’s Catholic identity. Without always realising it, they are thus reconnecting with a painful past, when the domestic nativity scene was a sign of refusal to submit to revolutionary madness.

In December 2025, the hostility of a handful of embittered personalities towards nativity scenes was encouraged by the celebration of the 120th anniversary of the vote on the law establishing the famous “French-style secularism.” Cases of legal action and attempts to remove nativity scenes from town halls and public squares are on the rise. But these hysterical attacks only serve to unnecessarily clog up the courts and ruffle the feathers of a growing number of French citizens who, fortunately, have retained their childlike spirit and know how to be moved by the baby Jesus. According to a recent poll, 79% of French people—across all age groups and political affiliations—are in favour of installing nativity scenes in town halls. As the angels would sing, “Gloria in excelsis Deo”—the battle for hearts and minds has therefore been largely won.