In the heart of Brussels’ historic Grand Place, a controversy that had simmered online for weeks spilled into real-world drama when the city’s unconventional Nativity scene was struck by a brazen act of vandalism. Between late Friday night, November 28, 2025, and the early hours of Saturday, November 29, the head of the infant Jesus figure was stolen from the city’s main Christmas display, despite the ever-watchful gaze of surveillance cameras that pepper the square. The theft, confirmed by Belgian authorities, has left the city both puzzled and on edge as it grapples with the meaning—and fallout—of the incident.
The missing figure wasn’t just any baby Jesus. This year, Brussels city hall took a creative leap, commissioning artist Victoria-Maria Geyer to craft a Nativity scene out of cloth, with faces—those of Mary, Joseph, and the infant Christ—deliberately lacking eyes, noses, or mouths. Geyer, a devout Catholic, explained her vision to the Associated Press: she wanted “every Catholic, regardless of their background or origins, [to] identify themselves” in the biblical story. The faceless design, she hoped, would allow the faithful from Japan to Namibia to see themselves reflected in the Holy Family, unbound by ethnicity or other markers.
The reaction was swift. Social media users, local politicians, and passersby weighed in—some praising the inclusivity, others lambasting the figures as “zombie-like.” Georges-Louis Bouchez, head of the center-right MR party and a member of Belgium’s ruling coalition, didn’t mince words on X (formerly Twitter), declaring that Geyer’s cloth Christ “in no way represent[s] the spirit of Christmas.” He went so far as to compare the stylized figures to “zombie-like” people found at train stations, stoking a debate about the boundaries of artistic expression and the meaning of tradition.
But the theft itself, according to Brussels Major Events deputy director Delphine Romanus, crossed a line. Early reports that the infant Jesus had been beheaded proved false, but the reality was troubling enough: the head of the baby Jesus was indeed missing, snatched by an unknown perpetrator who slipped through a fence hastily erected after public complaints about the display. The incident, Romanus noted, was not without precedent—previous years had seen baby Jesus figurines broken or stolen from Nativity scenes across the city—but this time, the controversy around the design seemed to add fuel to the fire.
As reported by Catholic Herald and OIDAC Europe, attacks on Christian religious symbols and sites have soared across the continent in recent years. Since 2019, incidents of vandalism, arson, and discrimination against Christians have increased by 70%, with France, the UK, Germany, Spain, and Austria seeing the most pronounced spikes. In France alone, 854 church vandalism incidents were recorded in 2023, with 770 more in 2024. OIDAC Europe tallied 2,211 hate crimes against Christians in 2024, including 274 attacks on individuals and a notable rise in church arsons. Brussels, as the de facto capital of the European Union, has not been immune to these trends.
Some observers in Brussels have taken a wry view of the city’s recurring Nativity thefts, calling them almost an annual “sporting event.” As local tradition has it, cities often prepare backup figures for just such occasions. This year, however, the thief’s surgical precision—removing only the fabric head—meant there was no immediate replacement available. Authorities quickly substituted a new baby Jesus in the crib, but the episode raised uncomfortable questions about security, public art, and the city’s relationship with its Christian heritage.
The city’s annual Christmas market, a major draw for locals and tourists alike, provided the backdrop for this year’s drama. In 2024, more than 4 million people visited the market, sipping mulled wine, shopping at 238 vendors, and marveling at the enormous Christmas tree presiding over the square. The Nativity scene, displayed under a simple white tent at the center of it all, was selected by both the local Catholic church and the City of Brussels—a nod to tradition, even as the design itself courted controversy.
The installation, which cost the city 65,000 euros, was intended as a bold statement of inclusivity. But the backlash was swift and, at times, intense. According to the Associated Press, an initial deluge of negative comments on social media eventually gave way to more positive feedback, as some began to appreciate the artist’s intent. Yet, for critics, the faceless figures were not just a matter of taste, but of principle. In their view, the city’s embrace of unconventional Christmas symbols was part of a broader effort to avoid offending non-Christian residents—a charge that has surfaced before. In 2012, for instance, a glass Christmas tree resembling pharmacy crosses drew 25,000 petition signatures from citizens who felt tradition was being sidelined.
Such creative experimentation isn’t unique to Brussels. Across Europe, cities have grappled with the challenges and controversies that arise when tradition meets modernity. In Vienna, a large crucifix was displayed upside-down in 2024 as an artistic experiment, sparking outrage among some Catholics. In parts of Italy, Nativity scenes have been abandoned altogether due to security concerns, while German cities have occasionally canceled Christmas markets for safety reasons.
For Brussels resident Francis De Laveleye, the theft of the infant Jesus was a step too far. “What is intolerable is that people attack the work of an artist to damage it and to turn it into a kind of stupid little controversy that ridicules Brussels,” he lamented, as cited by the Associated Press. His words echoed a broader sentiment: that artistic merit, tradition, and public debate should never descend into vandalism or violence.
So, what happens next? Organizers and security officials say they will keep a closer eye on the manger, but as of December 1, 2025, no additional precautions have been announced. The city’s experiment with inclusivity and artistic expression continues, even as it faces the realities of public backlash and the specter of further attacks. The perpetrator, meanwhile, remains at large—a reminder that, for all the cameras and fences, some mysteries endure.
As Brussels moves forward, the city’s Nativity scene stands as a symbol of both the possibilities and perils of reimagining tradition in a diverse and rapidly changing Europe. The debate over art, faith, and public space is far from settled, but the conversation—like the Christmas market itself—shows no sign of slowing down.