Chapter I. One Word, One World: Nativity-scenecraft?
"If names are not correct, language does not match reality. And when language does not match reality, nothing can be accomplished."
— Confucius [1], *The Annals of Spring and Autumn*

Confucius. Montevideo | Ale Genes
Confucius' doctrine —the “Rectification of Names” [3] (正名, zhèngmíng)— teaches that calling things by their proper name is the first step toward living with justice and wisdom.
And the opposite?
The opposite of naming correctly… is to live unjustly and ignorantly.
Confucius said that naming things properly is essential for social harmony.
In the world of the nativity scene, however, language has lost precision: the sculptor who creates original figures is merely called a “nativity artisan,” ignoring —or diminishing— that their work begins as sculpture before any reproduction exists.
Thus, even when they create unique pieces, they are boxed into the category of craft, as if authorship didn't matter, only repetition.
The same happens with nativity culture: naming it clearly is not a whim but a way of protecting its cultural identity and recognizing the artistic work that sustains it.
An unfamiliar word… or a whole world to discover?
If you speak Spanish or Catalan, you probably associate the term with a Christmas tradition: the nativity scene or “pesebre.” But if you speak French, German, English, or Italian, it's very likely it means nothing to you. And yet, you may have seen or even taken part in this same tradition without knowing it had a name.
This first chapter is important because it lays the foundation. It doesn't just present a concept —it questions how we name, understand, and value cultural traditions. The manual you have ❝in your hands❞ wants to be useful and build bridges, because all the countries that depict the birth of Jesus —in the form of pesebres, crèches, presepi, krippe or nativity scenes— share the same purpose: to commemorate the birth of Jesus and his spiritual, ethical, and moral message.
Seen globally, the nativity may be a local tradition, but it is also a universal language. And when we give it a name and define it precisely, we don't limit it: we strengthen it and make it more recognizable to others. This chapter is an invitation to put into words something you might already carry within you.
A word that says it all (or almost?)
Every December, millions of Catholics —practicing or not— around the world commemorate the birth of Jesus in their homes, parishes, associations, or public spaces. They do so with a nativity scene that accompanies them through Christmas.
This custom is part of a deeply rooted tradition in the Christmas experience of the more than
1.4 billion faithful
who belong to the Catholic Church. And while many other Christian denominations don't practice belenismo as such, they recognize in the nativity scene the central image of Christmas: the birth of Jesus.
Some do it out of faith, others out of habit, and others out of love for a tradition that seems to need no explanation.
And yet… what exactly is belenismo?
This question, which seems simple, is actually a doorway. Because depending on how we answer it, everything else changes: how we sculpt a figure, how we place it in a scene, how we present it to others, or how we value the work in front of us.
“Belenismo” is a word that sounds natural in associations, fairs, and conversations among enthusiasts. But it's also a young word, with no centuries of academic history behind it. That makes it alive, but also ambiguous.
Is belenismo a hobby? An art form? A way of evangelizing? A cultural inheritance? An act of collective memory? Perhaps it is all of that and more. But we cannot stick to just one definition, because doing so would leave out a large part of those who live and build it.
Tradition, art, and message: three inseparable pillars
For many, belenismo begins with tradition: the memory of a family nativity scene, a terracotta figure in a cardboard box, a grandmother carefully arranging the moss. This emotional memory is a fundamental starting point.
But belenismo doesn't stop there. It's also a form of art. Of creation. It involves composing, sculpting, lighting, telling stories through images. Artistic belenismo isn't just about decorating: it aims to move, to communicate, to stir emotions.
And at the same time, the nativity scene conveys a message. Not a fixed or uniform one, but a message that varies depending on the scene, the creator, the context. A message that can be spiritual, ethical, symbolic, or social. The birth of Jesus becomes a universal story: of humility, welcome, hope, and shared humanity.
The Nativity Scene as a Mirror
Rather than a fixed definition, belenismo offers a mirror. It reflects back what we value, how we understand Christmas, and what we want to remember, share, or reinvent.
Some include local animals, modern characters, or scenes from daily life. Some try to reconstruct the historical context of Judea. Some mix it all. And in every case, there's a decision that tells us something about ourselves.
Consult to Understand: What Do the Dictionaries Say?
After viewing the nativity scene as a mirror—personal, cultural, and spiritual—it's only natural to ask: what exactly is belenismo? And the first thing anyone would do is look for a definition. That's precisely what we'll do next: check what dictionaries and encyclopedias say in the six languages of this manual.
Compared Definitions
This terminological gap is not just a technical omission: it reveals a deeper phenomenon. According to the theory of linguistic relativity [6], the language we speak influences the way we perceive and understand the world. In some cultures, the absence of a specific word for this tradition may limit its visibility or institutional recognition.
In fact, this situation resembles what anthropology calls hypocognition [7]: the lack of a specific term to express a complex idea, which can result in cultural gaps or partial understandings of an existing practice.
In Spanish and Catalan, the term belenismo (or pessebrisme) exists and is recognized by official dictionaries. In the other European languages considered here (English, French, German, and Italian), the term is not formally established, although the practice of representing the birth of Jesus with figures, scenery, and folk scenes is acknowledged.
This table summarizes the situation:
Spanish:
Belenismo → Listed in the RAE as Article | m. Esp. “Art of nativity scenes or fondness for them”.
Pesebrismo → Listed in the RAE as Article | m. Esp. “Art of nativity scenes or Christmas cribs, or fondness for them”.
[4]
Catalan:
pessebrisme → Listed in the IEC as | m. [AR] [AN] “Art of building nativity scenes”.
[8]
French:
Not found in Le Petit Robert. Wikipedia (“Crèche de Noël”) describes the practice but lacks a specific term.
[9]
German:
Not listed in Duden. The German Wikipedia (“Weihnachtskrippe”) describes the tradition, but has no term equivalent to 'belenismo'.
[10]
Italian:
Presepismo is not found in Treccani or GDLI. Italian Wikipedia (“Presepe”) explains the topic, but without a term covering the entire practice.
[11]
English (US):
No specific entry in Merriam-Webster. Terms like nativity scene are used, but they don't encompass the full cultural scope of the practice.
[12]
«ἔστιν ἄρα ὄνομα ἕκαστον φύσει τι καὶ οὐχ ὑπὸ ἡμῶν ψιλὴ φωνή, ἀλλ' ἔστιν ἑκάστῳ ὄνομα ὃ πέφυκεν ὀνομάζεσθαι, καὶ ὃ τοῦτο ἐστιν ὀρθῶς ὄνομα.»
Approximate translation:
❝Thus, each thing has a name that naturally fits it, and it is not just a mere sound we assign — there is a name that it is meant to be called by, and that is the correct name.❞ [14]
— Plato, Cratylus (390c)
In this dialogue, Socrates, Cratylus, and Hermogenes discuss whether names are “correct by nature” or “by convention.”

Why is it important to name it correctly?
In Spanish, the suffix -ismo typically denotes a doctrine, artistic movement, ideology, or established practice. Referring to belenismo is not just about naming a hobby, but about identifying a complex and recognizable phenomenon involving artistic creation, cultural transmission, collective memory, civic engagement, and spiritual experience.
In other languages, however, the equivalent suffix —isme, ismus, ismo, ism— has not led to a similar term. This linguistic gap is significant: it shows how the absence of a word can limit the visibility of a practice.
Language | Specific term | Cultural suffix used | Remarks |
---|---|---|---|
Spanish | belenismo / pesebrismo | -ismo | Recognized by the RAE |
Catalan | pessebrisme | -isme | Registered by the IEC |
French | — | -isme | No equivalent established term |
German | — | -ismus | Not applied to nativity tradition |
Italian | presepismo (non-official usage) | -ismo | Not listed in reference dictionaries |
English (US) | — | -ism | Not used for this tradition |
Confusion or jargon
This is when confusions arise disguised as “jargon”[16], as if one had to hide from someone to avoid being understood. Jargon[16] is a curious manifestation of language that combines sounds and syllables to create a secret code between speakers.
Originally, jargon was used as a hidden language among groups who wanted to communicate without being understood by outsiders. For example, in 16th-century Spain, Roma communities used it to protect their conversations from those outside their group.
If we want the nativity scene to be shared, appreciated, and understood, we need clarity, not jargon.
A universal reflection (and a shared responsibility)
If the nativity has survived and evolved over the centuries, it is thanks to people who have loved, reimagined, and passed it on. But if we want its value to be understood globally, we also need a common language—one that defines it without oversimplifying, that names it without limiting it.
That's why this manual is not just a practical guide: it's also a space to reflect together on what it means to create, build, and preserve a nativity scene. And the first task is this: to name what we do, and to do so clearly, fairly, and consciously.
Confucius was right: naming things properly is not a detail, it is an act of cultural justice.
Or do we prefer that everyone call things whatever they want—even if we end up speaking like in the Tower of Babel?[17]

A symbol of miscommunication that still echoes in the way we name the Nativity scene today.
Now you know something you didn't before: that belenismo is not just a word —it's a key to understanding an ancient practice. A key that exists in Spanish and Catalan... and still needs forging in other languages.
You are part of that process. By reading, sharing, or living this tradition with awareness, you're helping to shape it, give it a name and a meaning. And that —more than any definition— is what keeps the Nativity scene alive.
Questions to spark debate
When Spain and Catalonia have developed high-level artistic exhibitions, techniques, and nativity figures, isn't it time for the world to also know the name that defines them?
If millions of people instantly recognize a nativity scene, why not also recognize the name of those who have elevated it to an art form?
Isn't it paradoxical that a tradition so widespread around the world lacks a common name outside our languages?
If the nativity scene touches people in every language, why do “belenismo / pesebrismo” and “pessebrisme” remain nearly invisible terms outside the Spanish and Catalan sphere?
What if exporting the name were the first step toward giving the nativity scene the cultural recognition it deserves?
Can an artistic expression truly be universal if it has no shared global name?
And now, a pause to reflect…
After going through these pages, you might be wondering:
The truth is that not even the official definitions seem to agree. In fact, in the next chapter we'll see how a government document uses words that appear in no dictionary…
Invention? Oversight? Or a sign of a deeper confusion?
We'll analyze it closely. Because naming things properly is the first step toward understanding.