In a season known for its messages of hope and unity, churches in Illinois and Massachusetts have ignited a fierce debate by transforming traditional nativity scenes into powerful protests against federal immigration enforcement. These unconventional displays—featuring baby Jesus in zip ties, Mary in a gas mask, and Roman soldiers labeled as Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents—have drawn both praise and condemnation, reflecting the deep divisions surrounding immigration policy in the United States.
The controversy began to unfold in early December 2025, when the Lake Street Church in Evanston, Illinois, unveiled a nativity tableau that was anything but traditional. According to CNN, the display showed baby Jesus lying in a manger, wrapped in a silver emergency blanket with his wrists zip-tied. Nearby, Mary stood wearing a plastic gas mask, flanked by figures dressed as Roman soldiers in tactical vests emblazoned with "ICE." The church’s senior minister, Rev. Michael Woolf, explained the motivation behind the provocative scene: “For churches, Christmas is a time when we have public art out on the lawn and we get an opportunity to say something.”
This was not an isolated act of protest. At the Urban Village Church in another Chicago suburb, a sign at the nativity scene declared, “Due to ICE activity in our community the Holy Family is in hiding.” The message was clear: the Holy Family, often depicted as refugees in Christian tradition, was being used as a symbol for the fear and uncertainty faced by immigrant families in America today. As Jillian Westerfield, associate minister at the United Methodist church in Evanston, put it, “We wanted to reflect sort of the reality that our community is experiencing.”
More than a thousand miles away, in Dedham, Massachusetts, the Christ child was conspicuously absent from the nativity scene at St. Susanna Parish. Instead, a hand-painted sign read, “ICE was here.” Parishioners at St. Susanna have a history of using their nativity display to comment on social and political issues. In previous years, they locked baby Jesus in a cage to protest family separations at the border during President Donald Trump’s first term and depicted the infant floating in polluted water to highlight environmental concerns.
This year’s display, however, struck a particularly raw nerve. Boston Archbishop Richard Henning ordered the nativity scene at St. Susanna to be “restored to its proper sacred purpose,” according to the Associated Press. As of December 14, 2025, Father Steve Josoma, the parish priest, had not complied and was seeking a meeting with the archdiocese. “The people of God have the right to expect that, when they come to church, they will encounter genuine opportunities for prayer and Catholic worship—not divisive political messaging,” a diocesan spokesperson asserted. Some Catholic activists have called for Father Josoma’s removal, with C.J. Doyle, director of the Catholic Action League of Massachusetts, stating, “This is really a grave scandal for Catholics, and I think he’s playing with fire.”
Despite the backlash, supporters of the displays insist that their actions are rooted in compassion and a desire to spark meaningful dialogue. Phil Mandeville, a member of St. Susanna’s Parish Council and coordinator of a multi-church refugee support committee, emphasized the parish’s ongoing commitment to helping refugee families. “Just to emphasize the reason for all of this—it’s not a stunt,” he said. “We work on a daily basis with refugees. But people get upset about a bit of plaster. I care more about individuals than I do a manger scene. I understand what it represents—I don’t understand why no one cares about these human beings.”
The displays come at a time of heightened immigration enforcement in the United States. In September 2025 alone, at least 2,000 people were arrested in Illinois and Massachusetts, according to federal figures cited by the Associated Press. These raids have left communities reeling, with bystanders reportedly choking on chemical sprays and children traumatized by the sudden disappearance of neighbors and teachers. State and local investigations into these incidents are ongoing.
The emotional impact of the nativity protests has rippled far beyond the walls of the churches themselves. Volunteers from a nearby synagogue stood outside Lake Street Church during services to help worshippers feel safe amid the controversy. Reactions outside St. Susanna ranged from outrage to support. Walter Niland, a Catholic from a neighboring town, voiced his disapproval: “I believe that the church enjoys a tax-exempt status. We should speak to spiritual matters, not matters of political division.” Others, like Steve Grieger, a former Catholic schoolteacher who drove an hour from Worcester to show his support, argued that the times demand a different approach. “The Archdiocese says, ‘Oh no, that goes against our tradition.’ Well, we’re living in times that are totally abnormal. We can’t just proceed as normal. If we’re following the scriptures of Jesus, then we have to recognize that these ICE raids, and all of these terrible things going on, are totally against that.”
For the churches involved, the decision to use sacred imagery for political commentary is not made lightly. Rev. Woolf of Lake Street Church noted that previous nativity scenes had also carried political messages, including a plea for peace in Gaza. The goal, he said, is to move “beyond static traditional figures and evoke emotion and dialogue” in response to the fear many parishioners face as federal forces arrest not only undocumented immigrants but also longtime legal residents, spreading anxiety throughout the community.
Critics, however, remain unconvinced. Some have accused the churches of abusing sacred imagery and called for the revocation of their tax-exempt status. The debate has highlighted a broader question facing religious institutions in America: What is the appropriate role of the church in political discourse? As Jillian Westerfield observed, critics either “don’t fully understand the message or find it really challenging to their conscience and are lashing out at the art rather than engaging with what the actual message is.”
As the Christmas season continues, these nativity scenes stand as stark reminders of the real-world struggles faced by immigrant families—and of the ongoing debate over how best to balance faith, compassion, and civic responsibility in a divided nation. For many, the displays have succeeded in their goal: to make people stop, reflect, and perhaps even ask themselves, as Phil Mandeville suggested, “What would Christ do?”
