Fighting has no place during the holidays, especially Christmas. That’s why I generally don’t get worked up over the so-called “War on Christmas.”

Don’t get me wrong. I think there is a war going on, and I’m one who always will think God has more of a place in society than we give Him. But the real war isn’t over whether “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” reigns as the politically correct greeting of the season.

Even most of those who prefer to hear “Merry Christmas” at the checkout counter and not speak of “holiday trees” still fight the temptation to make the season of Christ’s Nativity more about whether the cookies get baked on time or the relatives like that new sweater that cost a fortune and can’t be returned. Sometimes the best intentions can be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things to be done.

For me, the best way to keep Christ in Christmas is to keep Mass in Christmas. I like the fact that the church is a little more crowded on Christmas Eve night. I got there early with my family last year, when the rare bell choir and full chorus sang the songs you don’t get to hear on the radio anymore and the bright lights emphatically signaled the coming of God into the world. About an hour later, at the consecration, Jesus Himself was present under the forms of bread and wine.

Too often we seek to keep Christ in Christmas in some sort of corporate way, as if a Nativity at City Hall somehow means more than one on the lawn of the old man next door. As if “Silent Night” makes us better Christians than “O Christmas Tree.” Even remembering to place Baby Jesus in the manger doesn’t matter, if we don’t stop for a moment and contemplate what that little baby meant to us.

We like to celebrate Jesus’ birthday as if it was for his sake. But the Incarnation, the turning point of human history, was for ours. It was when God lowered Himself, “taking the form of a slave,” in order to accomplish a union with us that we had long since rejected (Phil. 2:7). Imagine if you spent your birthday in a feeding trough, so poor your parents couldn’t even afford a room at the inn.

The Christ Child is God. He wasn’t just born in a stable at Bethlehem; he chose to be born there. Rather than a time to simply remember Christ, Christmas is a time to profoundly thank and adore the magnitude of the Creator becoming man. The trees, presents, lights and tinsel can help us in doing that if we see them in the right light, as extensions and expressions of the joy and generosity of our Savior.

Linus’ testimony in “A Charlie Brown Christmas” is so moving precisely because it cuts to the heart of that very idea. Rather than separating, it integrates the meaning of Christmas into the busy, bright and sometimes even heart-wrenching experiences of the season. It shows what can happen when the two mix – when we simply pause, dim the lights, and remember what Christmas is all about.

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Mike Stechschulte is managing editor of The Michigan Catholic.