"Well, I find it very bizarre. He comes in the dead of winter, in the middle of the night, sneaking in like a thief—"

"On the contrary, he would seem to be the anti-thief: thieves come unexpectedly to take what they cannot legitimately claim, yet we know both the day and the hour of his arrival, and he comes to give us what we would not otherwise have ..."

The two voices wafted into the kitchen, mingling with the smell of lasagne and fresh-baked bread. The family always had lasagne on Christmas Eve. The turkey, along with the stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy and squash and cranberry sauce, would wait until the following evening for Christmas dinner, not to mention the cheese and crackers and pickles and olives and onions that they would impatiently graze on, waiting for the turkey to be cooked and carved.

"Only because we placate him with various bribes," continued the first voice.

"Nourishment to sustain him on his journey, as you would provide any welcome guest," countered the second.

Judy looked at Deb, who was sitting with her at the kitchen table, and asked, "What on earth are those two going on about in there?"

Deb smiled slightly and shook her head. "Oh, you know those two," she said. "Every year, they argue about—" She stopped and cast a quick glance at Josh, who completed the threesome sitting at the table. Josh, who was only eight and still believed, was coloring quietly. "Santa Claus," she finished.

It was safe to mention it in front of Josh because, interestingly, the two in the other room were not debating the existence of Santa Claus; his existence, it seemed, was being taken for granted. Rather, they debated the merits of his peculiar vocation.

The second voice went on: "I don't understand why you fight me on this every year, Gabe. The man rewards the good—the young and innocent, no less—and gives the not-so-good something they can aspire to in the coming year."

"Goodness yields its own reward," they heard Gabe grumble.

"Does this not constitute a portion of that reward?" prompted the other voice.

"I'm not talking about toys and games, Dan," Gabe snapped.

"Well, perhaps you might include toys and games in the future," said Dan. "We're really talking about the same thing ..."

In the kitchen, Deb turned to Judy and said, "Time to put a stop to this." Judy smiled in response. Without getting up, Deb called into the other room: "Gabe, you might want to check on the lasagne."

"In a minute," came the answer.

"Now, Gabe," Deb called back, almost singing it. "You know how this works: you cook today, and I cook tomorrow."

Gabe shuffled into the room and over to the oven. Judy gave Deb a wink and headed into the other room with Dan. Ensuring that the contents of the oven were still in order, Gabe made as if to go back into the other room.

"Why don't you stay here and sit down with me and Josh?" Deb suggested to him. Gabe, fairly certain that it was not really a suggestion, took the seat between the two.

"What are you coloring?" he asked his nephew. Despite his dislike of Santa Claus and his apparent disdain for toys and games, Gabe was actually very fond of children.

"The three wise men," Josh answered. His non-coloring arm had been curled around the page, but he moved it to give his uncle a clear view of the picture he was drawing. "This one's bringing gold," he said, pointing to the first one. "This one's bringing frankincense, and this one's bringing myrrh."

"Ah," said Gabe, "the first Christmas presents. Well done."

"I still have to draw the camel," Josh added. "I'm not finished yet."

"Well, it's very good so far," Gabe said, and Josh smiled. Deb smiled, too.

"When I'm done," Josh said, "I think I'll leave it out for Santa to see. Do you think he'll like it, too, Uncle Gabe?"

Gabe's shin received a preemptive kick under the table, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Yes," he answered. "I expect he will." Josh smiled more broadly than before.

"Uncle Gabe," he asked, "how does Santa know to come here when you and Aunt Deb don't have any children?"

Gabe did not feel a kick, but he did not need to look at Deb to feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. "He knows that you're here, Josh," he answered. "Just as he knows who's been good and who's been bad."

"I thought so," Josh said. He looked through his crayon box and pulled out a light brown one for the camel.

"Do you know," Gabe asked his nephew, "what frankincense and myrrh are, and why the wise men brought them?"

Josh seemed to think for a moment; then he shook his head. "I know what gold is," he said. "It's metal, and it costs a lot of money."

"That's right," Gabe agreed. "My ring is made out of gold," and he showed Josh his wedding band, "and so is your Aunt Deb's." Deb held out her hand so Josh could see her ring, as well.

"But frankincense and myrrh are made out of plants," Gabe went on, "and they both smell nice." Josh had stopped coloring and was looking up at Gabe, interested. "Frankincense is used as a kind of gift for God," he explained. "You burn it, and the smoke rises up to Heaven." Josh looked up at the ceiling, as though frankincense smoke might be right there in the room with them. "The wise men gave the baby Jesus frankincense," Gabe said, looking down at Josh's picture and pointing to what the middle figure was holding, "because they knew he was the Son of God."

Josh nodded; this seemed to make sense to him. "What does myrrh do?" he asked.

"Well, not only is Jesus the Son of God," Gabe answered, "but he's also what they call the 'Son of Man', which means that he's human, just like you, me, your Aunt Deb, your mom and your dad." He paused for a moment, choosing his words. "The thing about humans, though, is that, eventually, they die. Sometimes, after people die, you put myrrh on them before you bury them." Josh did not seem phased by the discussion of death, so Gabe went on. "The wise men gave the baby Jesus myrrh," Gabe said, looking down at the picture again, pointing this time to what the last figure was holding, "because they knew he was going to die someday, too."

Josh looked down at the figure holding the myrrh. "He died for our sins," he whispered.

Gabe felt Deb's hand on his and turned to look at her. Her eyes were moist. They glistened in the flickering light provided by candles on the table. "That's right," Gabe agreed. "He did."

"When he died," Josh asked, "did they put his myrrh on him before they buried him?"

Gabe nodded. "Yes, they did."

"That's good," Josh said. "I'm glad he got to use it."

"Gabe," Deb said gently, "the lasagne."

"Oh!" Gabe jumped up to check on it and found that it was ready. Dan and Judy were called into the kitchen; Gabe served the food, and they all ate. After the meal, Gabe cleared the table and washed the dishes while Deb made some coffee. Josh went to get his drawing, so he could finish the camel.

"Uncle Gabe?" Josh asked, once they were all sitting around the table again. "Do you think that Jesus got sad sometimes when he looked at his myrrh?"

Gabe nodded. "I know he did."

"But he wasn't sad all the time, right?" Josh asked.

"No," Gabe answered. "Most of the time he was happy."

"Even though he knew that he was going die someday?" persisted Josh.

"What have you two been talking about," Dan asked, setting down his coffee cup.

To Josh, Gabe said, "He knew that life was too important to spend it worrying about dying." To Dan, he pointed to Josh's drawing and said simply, "The wise men's gifts."

"And about dying?" Dan asked. "On Christmas Eve?" He shook his head. "Just because you have no Christmas spirit is no reason to inflict your humbug attitude on the rest of us."

"On the contrary," Gabe said, smiling, "I think I have quite a lot of Christmas spirit." His smile faded slightly, and his eyebrows arched. "Tonight, we celebrate a birth, and with every birth comes death."

Dan shook his head. "Tonight is supposed to be merry, not somber. Christmas comes at the darkest time of the year to make it seem less dark, to keep up our hope. Tonight we celebrate the beginning of life's journey, not its end."

"I agree," said Gabe. "We are celebrating the beginning of a journey. The journey is not an easy one, but it is one worth traveling, and that makes this occasion joyful. If we are to fulfill the promise of Christmas—the happiness of our family and friends, peace on earth and goodwill among all its inhabitants—then we need now to consider the road ahead and determine to carry this good cheer with us as we go on from here. Then, when our journey ends, we will be comforted when we remember the joy of its beginning—that the journey's end was present in the beginning—and we will know that we have done what we were meant to do. Christmas comes to us when the world around us is dead, and it will come to us again in our own time of dying."

Josh seemed to have tuned them out long ago and had returned to his coloring. Sensing a pause in the conversation, he held his picture up. "Look," he said, "it's finished. Do you think Santa will like it?"

To Dan's surprise, Gabe answered first: "He'll love it." Off Dan's look, Gabe responded, "You may be right: perhaps we're all really talking about the same thing."

Josh put the picture back on the table and looked it over. The first wise man was holding something yellow in his hands; the second was holding something purple; the third was holding something green. Josh picked up his crayon box again and selected a black one. He colored over the green, making the myrrh black.