I write these words on Christmas morning. Sitting here before my computer, I know that, at this very moment, children throughout the land, still bedecked in footie pajamas and messy hair, are shaking off their grogginess and shuffling out of their bedrooms to see what awaits them beneath their trees. Many Americans were at church last night, celebrating the birth of Jesus with words of thanks and praise, and still more are preparing to go this morning. As the day continues, family and friends will gather, magnificent feasts will appear on their tables, and perhaps even a bit of snow will fall to dust the day itself in a silent, enchanting beauty.

And all the while (or at least for some of the while), I’ll be working on my newspaper column. You see, we Jews are outsiders during these days of merriment. We do not believe that the messiah has yet arrived, and therefore the birth of Jesus has no special significance in our religion. “Christmas,” we say to many of our fellow Americans, “is not our holiday – it’s yours. Enjoy.”

And by the time you read this, Christmas, and the ensuing New Year’s celebration, will be over. Many will have had wonderful experiences during this holiday season; for others it will have been a painful and lonely time. For most, these days will have brought an intensity of emotion that we tend not to feel during the rest of the year.

But for now, as I look out my window to the empty streets and upon the myriad of recently-shut-off holiday lights, I reflect upon this holiday with a mixed gift-bag of emotions.

Christmas is a beautiful holiday – the lights, the music, all of it. Even the corny commercials. Our nation and our world are better off with Christmas than we would have been without it.

There is, however, one part of it that I just don’t “get.” On my birthday, I want people to give gifts to me, not to other people. So what’s the deal with Christmas gifts to friends, family, and all of the “people-you-don’t-like-but-feel-obligated-to-give-gifts-to-anyway”? Sure, Jesus might see the kindness and care and love we share with one another as a gift to him, as well. But I have a feeling he’d feel quite differently about the cashmere underwear and the satellite-connected PDA’s and boxes of gourmet Cheerios that have become the de rigueur American Stocking Stuffers of today. Is this how Jesus would have wanted his followers to celebrate the day of his birth?

And speaking of that day, Jesus, born a Jew would have been circumcised on the eighth day of his life, and thus entered into the Jewish people’s covenant with God. The ceremony is called a brit milah, or a bris, and for Jesus, it would have happened on New Year’s day. January 1st is therefore Jesus’ “bris -day.” Yes, this widely-celebrated, non-Jewish holiday may once have marked the celebration of a uniquely Jewish event. Fundamentally, it is perhaps the most Jewish of non-Jewish celebrations anywhere.

I love Christmastime, but only as an observer. I just wish that the people who celebrate it wouldn’t put so much pressure on American Jews – especially children – to celebrate it themselves.

Our nation loves Christmas, too. Partly because of the majesty of the holiday, partly because of its golden retail opportunities, and partly because of our deep yearning to make some days different than all others, it has become a massive celebration unlike any other. And I, as a Jew, have chosen not to be invited to the party. Instead I look at it from the outside – not with the jealous, wistful longing of a rejected teenager, but with sheer joy for my Christian brothers and sisters. We Jews have plenty of holidays of our own. In late December, it’s your turn.

It is Christmas today, and New Year’s will arrive in just over a week. Then, as you read these words, the sales will be concluding, the Christmas trees will headed for the curbs outside, and life will have begun to resume its regular, more relaxed pace. For all who celebrate them, these holidays will have become memories in our Albums of Christmases Past.

And I, as a proud and devout Jew, will look back upon these days, too. I’ll remain befuddled by some of what has happened, but mostly I’ll be glad – glad, as a non-celebrant, to have been able to enjoy the beauty of Christmas; glad to live in a nation that celebrates my right to opt for Judaism instead; glad that I can somehow still see the lights and hear the music of this glorious holiday from within the walls of my own Jewish home.