I have always loved Christmas. But as I grew older, as much as I loved it, I think I lost much of the spirit. Now that I have a four-year-old son—who is wrestling with the stress of being good under the eye of the “Elf on the Shelf,” eying presents under the tree, and baking cookies with his mom—I find myself recovering much of what I had lost. This is wonderful, but, as a father, I also find myself reaching deeper into the meaning of the holiday.
The idea of sacrifice is at the heart of both Judaism and Christianity, and the notion of a father sacrificing his son is fundamental. Christmas itself, where the Christ child is born into the world, is the start of just that sacrifice. I literally cannot fathom making that kind of sacrifice—of giving up my son. At the same time, I understand just how much I would sacrifice for him.


