At Christmas time it is hard even for the unbeliever not to believe in something, if not in everything.
Peace on earth, good will to men; a dream of innocence that is good to hold onto even if it is only a dream; the mystery of being a child; the possibility of hope—not even canned carols piped out over the shopping center parking plaza from Thanksgiving on can drown it out entirely.
For a moment or two, the darkness of disenchantment, cynicism, doubt, draw back at least a little, and all the usual worldly witcheries lose something of their power to charm. Maybe we cannot manage to believe the Christmas story with all our hearts.
But as long as the moment lasts, we can at least believe that it is of all things the one most worth believing. And that may not be as far as it sounds from what belief is.