Many adults expend massive effort (and funds) during the holidays chasing a “Christmas feeling” we remember from childhood. I think this happens even if our childhood Christmases were less than ideal.

As in other memory reconstructions–such as how great our country allegedly was at some point in the past–a lot of selective editing goes into recreating the template we try to cram our yearly Christmas experience into.

In our minds, we keep the Christmas cookies our grandmother made but discard all the times our mom yelled at us for not decorating the tree how she wanted. Santa stays, but the odor of tobacco and beer we smelled on him at the mall gets placed in the trash file. Snow was “always” a part of Christmas, even for those of us who rarely saw snow at any time of the year.

This idyllic curation of Christmas isn’t just something we do with our imaginations. It has also been fed to us by Disney, Hollywood and Hallmark. And, in an ironic twist of history, those corporate giants borrow their Christmas molds from Charles Dickens, a 19th-century English writer whose novels were biting critiques of capitalism.

Many historians believe Dickens “invented” Christmas as we understand it with his 1843 publication of “A Christmas Carol.” (Full disclosure: I have never read “A Christmas Carol,” but I am very familiar with Disney’s Mickey Mouse adaptation of the classic story.)

Interestingly, what we most remember about Ebeneezer Scrooge’s story is the better world he created for those in his community at the end of the story. He created this world through generosity, but more importantly, it was created by his repentance from greed and exploitation.

The “better world” part of Scrooge’s story remains in our Christmas memories. Repentance from greed and exploitation is often placed in the trash file.

For my Christmas reflection last year, I wrote about my now-yearly tradition of rewatching the Ted Lasso Christmas episode during the holiday season. This year’s rewatch drew my attention to an especially poignant interaction between Leslie Higgins and Sam Obisanya.

Every year, Leslie Higgins, AFC Richmond’s Director of Communications, invites players from the team who don’t have a place to go for Christmas to celebrate the day with his family. Sam Obisanya, the beloved young player from Nigeria, arrives early. Higgins, wanting to build bridges but anxious he may say something offensive, asks Sam what Christmas evokes when thinking about his homeland. It took no time for Sam to search for an answer. “Colonization,” he replied, with a smile on his face.

“Of course,” Higgins said shyly before Sam quickly diffused the tension he had created with his honesty. “But I am more than happy to celebrate the day with you,” Sam said.

Sam then told Higgins that he had friends back home who celebrated, and they always ate jollof rice with goat meat from the holiday. Sam presented a bowl of the Nigerian dish to his host before reassuring him that he used chicken instead.

After this, one of Higgins’ sons told Sam how much he admired Sam’s courageous stand against one of the team’s corporate sponsors, which had been responsible for environmental crimes against Nigeria.

So much occurred during the brief scene that can be unpacked. But as I watched it this year, I was struck by how much space was created for the characters to lean into the reality that Christmas isn’t always good news for everyone, but it can be.

In a very real way, the culmination of the episode wasn’t a Christmas scene but one of Pentecost. People from many different nations were sitting around a table, celebrating their togetherness and what the world can be if we reject false lines of division.

Back to Dickens, some historians and literary scholars have noted that “A Christmas Carol” didn’t really “invent” our understanding of Christmas. Instead, it reflected a growing desire among Europeans to move away from a singular day of commemoration and to reembrace the festive season of celebration that medieval Christians participated in.

These celebrations included feasts, games and musical merrymaking. Many distinctions between the wealthy and those in poverty were temporarily suspended during these times.

This was a theme reflected in Ebenezer Scrooge’s Christmas repentance. It is a theme worthy of celebration to be, sure. But the biblical story of Christmas from Mary’s song in Luke 1:46-55 is about more than just a brief respite from the toils of society.

It is about the permanent subversion of power. It involves scattering the proud and the lowly and replacing the strong from their thrones. The rich go away empty, and the hungry are filled.

In fact, nominally “Christian” governments such as Guatemala and Argentina have banned it from churches at various times in history. During British rule, the passage wasn’t allowed to be recited in India. It’s not a story that fits within our romantic memories of Christmas; for many of us, it is a threat to them.

So where does that leave us as we begin to nestle into our cozy homes and try to recreate that “Christmas feeling?”

For those of us who follow God-made-flesh who appeared on earth as a baby under dangerous and precarious conditions, it leaves us in an in-between place. We rest and we celebrate, not in lock-step with the empire, but in defiance of it. We eat, we sing, we worship.

Then, we commit ourselves to creating a world that Mary sang about and that the believers at Pentecost began to realize.