The man who is called father by three of the world’s major religions—Islam, Christianity, and Judaism—had but a small family of his own. In fact, he and his wife, Sarah, weren’t sure they could even have one child. But from Abraham’s offspring, there remains a lineage that circles the globe.

He wasn’t supposed to live beyond infancy. All the other baby boys of his birthplace died the year he was born. His mother had to give him up to the care of another. But the tiny baby survived, even when he was floated down the Nile River in a basket. And the man Moses grew into led his people out of slavery and against impossible circumstances presented by nature and enemies, he brought them to God’s Promised Land.

He was the youngest son of an inconsequential family that was a member of a small tribe that lived in the hill country of an obscure nation. Yet David, a man after God’s own heart, prevailed in combat against lion, bear, and giant. Poet and warrior, he became a king and nation builder against whom all other kings to come would be measured.

In a dark and violent world; in a bleak and blighted village; a tiny life appeared. What difference does the life of one small make baby? Particularly one of questionable lineage, of humble means, far from the center of worldly power?

Jesus, the Babe in the manger, brought light and hope to a world engulfed in strife—and forever changed the course of history.

We look to the big, expensive, and impressive; we admire the powerful and influential; we check price tags, even during the holidays. But the message of Christmas is that great things come in small packages. A simple kindness. A gentle word. A smile. A listening ear. A shared meal. A song. A handwritten note. A surprise phone call. The shining eyes of children. All these small gestures hint at the greatest blessing of Christmas: a grand and magnificent love broke into the world when Jesus was born in a humble manger.

Enjoy the bright lights and big moments of the season. But don’t lose sight that the greatest blessings come in the smallest packages.

The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all your seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and perch in its branches.

Matthew 13:31–32

What would life be like without traditions? Particularly at Christmas? On September 21, 1897, Francis P. Church, an editor at The New York Sun, wrote a letter to a young lady who wondered about on particular tradition of the season. Church’s classic response to Virginia – “yes Virginia” – provides soothing words to a sometimes cynical world!

We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.’ Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?” Virginia O’Hanlon, 115 West Ninety-fifth Street.

“Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no child-like faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. . . . The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there.

“Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real?

“Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

The songs we sing. The movies we watch yet another year. The visits to relatives. The same meals we’ve eaten for as long as we can remember. The candlelight church service. Traditions. Oh, they can drive us a bit crazy and might even feel a little bit boring at times. But they do point to the “unseeable” and help us experience anew the “supernal beauty and glory beyond.” Traditions are one of the sweetest blessings of Christmas.