Churches in several U.S. communities have transformed traditional Nativity displays into stark political statements about recent immigration enforcement actions, drawing both praise and condemnation. In Evanston, Illinois, a baby-Jesus figure lay in a manger wrapped in a silver emergency blanket with its wrists bound by zip ties. Nearby, a Mary figure stood outside Lake Street Church wearing a plastic gas mask, flanked by figures dressed as Roman soldiers in tactical vests labeled “ICE.”
Not far away, a manger outside Urban Village Church carried a sign reading that the Holy Family was “in hiding” because of Immigration and Customs Enforcement activity near a local facility. More than a thousand miles away in Dedham, Massachusetts, the infant figure at St. Susanna Parish was removed and replaced with a hand-painted sign that read “ICE was here.” Those displays are part of a wider effort by some congregations to recast the story of the Holy Family as one about refugees and families living under the threat of separation.
Supporters of the reworked displays say the intention is to place the Nativity in a contemporary context and to give visual voice to parishioners who fear raids, arrests, and deportations. Clergy and lay leaders involved describe the installations as public art and pastoral witness during a season when churches put their messages on display outdoors. Lake Street Church’s senior minister noted that the congregation has a history of using its lawn to comment on current events; a prior Nativity there showed Jesus amid rubble as a plea for peace in Gaza.
At St. Susanna, parishioners point to a long-standing commitment to refugee work, arguing that the displays reflect real ministry rather than mere provocation. The parish previously staged other provocative scenes: in 2018 they placed a baby-Jesus figure in a cage to protest family separations at the border and later put the infant in water filled with plastic to call attention to climate change. Parish Council member Phil Mandeville, who coordinates a multi-church refugee support committee, said the congregation helps families with housing, school enrollment, language lessons and employment, and that the manger work is meant to highlight that ongoing ministry.
Opponents view the tableaux as inappropriate and divisive, arguing they misuse sacred symbols for political ends. Some critics have called the scenes sacrilegious and suggested penalties ranging from public reprimand to threats against churches’ tax-exempt status. In Massachusetts, the archdiocese ordered the manger at St. Susanna restored to what it called its proper sacred purpose. Boston Archbishop Richard Henning directed that this year’s display be removed; as of last reports, Father Steve Josoma was seeking a meeting with diocesan leaders and had not taken down the installation.
The debate has unfolded against a backdrop of intensified immigration enforcement in states and cities led by officials who have criticized the federal crackdown. Federal data cited by local leaders showed that in a single recent month at least 2,000 people were arrested across Illinois and Massachusetts, contributing to widespread anxiety among immigrant communities and supporters. Reports from some localities describe traumatic scenes for neighbors and children, and investigations have been opened where bystanders allegedly were exposed to chemical sprays during operations.
Church leaders who supported the displays said they wanted to evoke the fear and uncertainty parishioners feel when long-standing community members are suddenly detained. At the Evanston church, when a Joseph figure blew down and was damaged, the congregation posted a sign saying Joseph “didn’t make it” and explained the display was intended to honor victims of immigration enforcement actions. Some clergy argued that scripture encourages believers to act compassionately and to speak out on behalf of the vulnerable.
But the installations have prompted strong reactions from the broader public. At some sites volunteers from neighboring congregations, including a synagogue near Lake Street Church, stood outside during services to help worshippers feel safe. At St. Susanna the response ranged from supportive visits and selfies to angry confrontations: a few people tried to force locked doors or livestreamed protests, while others traveled long distances to back the parish’s stance.
Diocesan officials and conservative Catholic activists framed the issue as one of liturgical propriety and pastoral responsibility. A diocesan spokesperson emphasized that parishioners should be able to expect opportunities for prayer and worship without what they described as divisive political messaging. Some Catholic activists called for disciplinary action against the priest, describing the displays as a serious scandal.
The episodes highlight a broader tension over the role of religious institutions in public life: whether churches should repurpose sacred symbols to confront contemporary injustices and fears, or focus their seasonal displays on strictly spiritual themes. For organizers, the altered Nativity is intended as pastoral outreach and a call to compassion; for critics, it crosses a line by mixing political protest with sacred imagery. The disputes underline how deeply immigration enforcement has affected local communities and how contested the boundaries are between faith, public art and political protest.