I've thought of a fourth reason why the real meaning of Christmas should be an easy sell. If there's one thing we Brits love, it's a story in which the underdog wins against all the odds. And let's face it, the Christmas story has no shortage of underdogs.
We have the shepherds, social outcasts invited to be the first visitors of the newborn baby Jesus.
Then there's Mary, with the odds stacked against her in an extraordinary way - a teenage girl who, at the risk of losing her fiance, her reputation, her dignity and her life, responds to Gabriel's announcement of her pregnancy with the courageous, "Yes, I see it all now: I am the Lord's servant maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say".
But the ultimate underdog is surely Jesus himself. We may complain about the NHS but in a world with neither universal health care or a basic understand of the principles of hygiene, God was clearly taking an outrageous risk sending his son, on whose tiny shoulders the future of creation rested, to earth as a baby. I think the matter-of-fact way in which the gospels record this fact, and even John's profound statement that "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighbourhood" can almost disguise the enormity of God's decision.
But then, the underdog always comes good in the end. Don't they?
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