Faith is not for the Fainthearted

Today is Christmas Day.  After the presents and crumpled paper, spiced egg nog and baked ham, one might settle down and remember that the story of Christmas is a story of faith.  Christmas is when the world celebrates the birth of Christ, the one who would save humankind from itself.  It is a reverent day.  The presents that we give each other are reminiscent of the gifts from the three kings, though their gifts were much more sober and meaning-ful (full of meaning) for the newborn infant.  We do not spend much time nowadays remembering our purpose.  Indeed, having faith that two thousand years ago a messiah was born is difficult in itself.  It requires a leap of thinking and feeling.  It requires trust that the stories we have been told are true, that the infant that escaped Herrod's wrath is indeed worthy of our devotion, even while we try with all our might to camouflage our deeper feelings with flights of fancy, with parties and silliness that have very little to do with the occasion.