One of my favorite parts of the Christian mythos* is that God becomes one of us. Christianity can be—and in its most dualistic forms, usually is—extremely negative about the world and about the body. Nietzsche was right to see nihilism in the tendency to put all hope in another world, separate to and better than this world of sin, and to focus on the inner person—the soul, the spirit—in opposition to the outer person—the body physically present in this world.
The Christmas story, though, should be a story about God entering the world, becoming immanent, and making everything around us and every one of us, sacred. So, among the viewings of A Christmas Story, downing of rum balls (and cocktails), the meat pie we are trying for the first time, and the inevitable sadness-tinged foggy nostalgia, I'm going to try to remember that each one of us is pretty damned amazing—and worthy of dignity—and this world is a wonderful place—or I have an obligation to make it so.
So, Merry Christmas, all of you!
*Stories can have value whether they are true or not, so at least for the next few days, I'm not interested in whether this is just a myth or a true one.