Jesus, born in a barn amongst the heaving, dank breath of livestock, raised poor in a bad town (Can anything good come out of Nazareth? John 1:46), who unjudgmentally lent a shoulder to corrupt tax collectors, the poor dregs of society, and adulterous women (pointing out that adulterous men got a walk) . . .  Jesus, who boldly mocked the jewel-encrusted hypocrites holding court in holy places who would later smirk with pleasure while he was tortured to death, yet said I love you and pleaded that they be shown mercy . . . Jesus, who had the power if he chose to move a mountain from one side of the planet to the other but instead brought a little girl back to life; gave sight to the blind, healed the sick and lame; and started it all off by saving a couple the humiliation of running out of wine on their wedding day, the bride in tears, the groom looking like a jerk. Mom asked for that one. Although seemingly pale in comparison to miracles like raising the dead, it showed a deeply important aspect of his ministry—empathy for every iota of the human journey, which he shared in full. Joy, grief, pain, friendship, betrayal and death.

Jesus gestated. He took that journey too. He was a bit of jelly, a heartbeat at six weeks, a thirteen-week-er, fifteen weeks and starting to kick, twenty-four weeks and by today’s warped mentality only now “viable” and so only now real. He was brought into the world the same way we all were, delivered by a woman’s painful labor. Jesus comforts those dying in pain, something he knew a great deal about. Surely Jesus is with the bits of jelly, the six-week heartbeats, the thirteen week-ers, the ones who are kicking, and all the rest who are electively rejected—something else he knew a great deal about.

It’s a straightforward story, and although accepting the theology may be optional the science is not; a thing begins at its beginning, and the beginning of a life is conception. Complication arises due to the complexity of social contracts in a democratic, pluralistic society. Prolifers do not want to see these dismantled, only improved, a process that begins, and I believe can only blossom, in hearts and minds. One way is to revisit legal constructs implemented to facilitate aborting and refashion them to be life positive.

One of abortion advocates’ arguments that really sets my teeth on edge is the claim: If “limits” is your thing Roe v. Wade did have limits! Yeah. Six months, and the tyke has been kicking for two months. But technically, yes, Roe had a limit. And Doe v. Bolton erased it. Doe, the companion case to Roe (decided the same day), ruled that an elective abortion could be deemed medically necessary if any emotional, psychological, or familial factors were present; and medically necessary abortions were allowed through nine months, even up to the moment of birth. So don’t talk to me about “limits.”

Now, what if these emotional, psychological, or familial factors were applied before the woman gets pregnant? What if before a man sleeps with a woman, given that there is no such thing as 100 percent effective birth control, he asks himself: Is this woman’s emotional or psychological state such that should I impregnate her she would have a melt-down and need to get an abortion? Would it impoverish her, derail her education, cause a divorce, or have her father throw her out of the house? Shouldn’t women ask themselves the same questions? If these factors listed in Doe are so central they justify characterizing an elective abortion as a “medical” necessity, don’t they belong in pre-sex conversations as well? This is where the “fun, fearless and sexy” crowd roll their eyes. Got it. But if these factors are serious at all then they are serious in every context. Oh, and how about this for a pre-sex conversation: Look into your own heart and ask: Is this someone I can see myself wanting to marry should we create a child? Cue the laugh track.

Jesus was a fetus. Granted, his application was pre-approved, his successful arrival guaranteed because of his divine destiny to give up his life for us. And he had a life. He had friends, was part of a family business, watched the sun go down after a hard day’s work, smelled the hay, enjoyed food, slept. Did he dream?

Jesus died on the cross but did not leave us. He’s right here with us in our modern world. Forever present. Present in every delivery-room nativity, with women doing what they have always done, what Mary did for him, but now with complications owing to the complexities of social contracts in a democratic, pluralistic society desperately in need of making better choices. In need of faithful protectors like Joseph.

Maybe begin with a new Christmas Carol: O HOLY NIGHT, A CHILD GOT TO BE BORN