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Part2 It's worth asking, what is the Christmas spirit, really? We always talk about it as a spirit of festivity and cheer, a feeling of upbeat service and devotion, a time to enjoy family gatherings and think about all we are grateful for. But I'm not convinced that's the real Christmas spirit, so much as a cultural invention. Think about it this way: the first Christmas wasn't about a joyous gathering. Mary and Joseph were forced to travel at the whim of the Roman political leader who had usurped power over their nation-no exceptions for pregnant women or infants. And although they weren't alone, and were certainly traveling with other family members who had the same reason for the journey, they were highly-religious Jews about to have a full-term baby far less than nine months into their marriage. They had no wealth or social status to do any better for their baby than to share a stable with beasts of burden. The only people (we know of) who joined them in celebrating the birth of the Savior were strangers to them, unskilled laborers, with no wealth or power to bring anything to the gathering other than their own joy. In the Americas, the first Christmas was celebrated by a small handful of believers who had been-men, women and children-sentenced to death by their apostate society. Early Christians on both continents were persecuted, hunted, and killed. Celebrating the birth of Christ has been, for many of our Christian forebears, a tremendous risk. The idea that Christmas 'should' be a time of celebration and gathering and gift-giving and carol-singing and lights displays and musical extravaganzas and Broadway shows and parties full of themed treats, is unique to a wealthy, modern Christian culture. It's not part of our religion. Rejoicing is part of our religion, but having the 'perfect Christmas' is not. As I was standing there by the treats table, tears streaming down my face, trying not to be noticed, a kind voice said, 'Hey, how are you'? I turned around, cringing with embarrassment at my wet, swollen face, to see a friend's husband, a man I knew as an acquaintance but not much more, standing there-but it happened to also be the man who plays Jesus in the Church's Bible videos. He was looking at me like it was the most normal thing in the world to be crying at a Christmas party, like: some people drink hot chocolate, some people drink hot cider, some people stand in a corner and cry, some people portray Jesus on TV, it-s all the same. Just having him talk to me, not with concern or embarrassment but in this perfectly natural, casual way, made me suddenly feel like I was ok to be where I was. Let me be clear: the good man who plays the Lord as an actor is not actually the Lord (just ask his wife!). But his face in that moment, his willingness to engage me, felt symbolic. It seemed to me that Christ himself, He whose birth we celebrate, was letting me know I was not out of place at Christmas just because I was sad instead of rejoicing, alone instead of gathering. It was like He was telling me, 'Christmas is for you too.' Feeling better after our chat, I joined a group singing Christmas carols. When we got to O Holy Night, the words we were given included a verse I had never heard before. I tried to sing but could not, as those tears filled my eyes once again. The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger, In all our trials born to be our Friend; He knows our need, To our weakness is no stranger.

⁠— Kim White