It’s Christmas Eve in my parents’ house. My brother and I have descended upon their space with our spouses and children; with suitcases, bags, and toys; from baby bottles to teenage ambivalence, we are all hunkered down in the warmth of their home, taking turns in the bathroom and bumping into each other in the kitchen. As per tradition, we have a meal and go to church together on Christmas Eve, at the church where we grew up. And sometime...