Column: Christmas shows us that we are all essential

Of the many lessons to be learned from 2020, not the least of which is that there's no such thing as a non-essential person.

To insist otherwise degrades the value of human dignity. Kind of like the way Henry F. Potter made George Bailey feel on Christmas Eve one year at the end of World War II.

"You're worth more dead than alive," the bitter, old curmudgeon quipped to a shivering and dejected Building and Loan executive secretary at the end of his emotional rope.

Hundreds of thousands of Nevadans felt the sting of that sort of cheap shot this year, having been told repeatedly that they weren't important enough to keep working for their families.

Despite the messaging generated from public offices, there is no non-essential work or expendable worker. Every job is essential to somebody, and every worker important to someone.

When we make value judgments on which jobs and which workers are more important than others, we are cheapening individuals the way Potter did Bailey.

Fortunately, the Christmas season is here to remind us that no one person should ever be undervalued.

Each and every one of us has worth.

You and your contributions to community are priceless gifts. No one can put a value on either your life or your livelihood.

George Bailey's life wasn't worth a $25,000 life insurance policy. His was priceless to the people of Bedford Falls.

Had it not been for a somewhat slow-witted guardian angel named Clarence, George would have tried to cash in on that insurance policy.

That's what he thought he was worth to the world.

Turns out, though, George Bailey was valued a whole lot more than that.

George had spent his entire life giving to others.

He gave compassion to his first employer, Mr. Gower, who nearly caused another tragedy while grieving over his own loss.

George gave his college money to his younger brother, Harry, and he gave up his honeymoon to panicked Building and Loan share holders following the stock market crash of 1929.

He gave up a chance to be a big-time executive for old man Potter in order to help first-time home buyers like the Martini family.

But on that one fateful Christmas Eve when Uncle Billy lost the Building and Loan's $8,000 deposit, George Bailey found himself questioning why he was even alive.

He had traded in his hopes and dreams for a lifetime of service to his community. And for what? To face arrest and public ridicule for malfeasance and mismanagement of funds?

Did his life's work really come crashing down to an $8,000 mistake?

Potter's harsh words returned to sting George as he looked over the railing of the bridge and contemplated an end to his internal suffering.

That's when Clarence arrived and granted George's wish that he had never been born.

Bailey got to see what Bedford Falls would look like without him. He saw how his family and all of this friends would turn out without him in their lives.

Bedford Falls without George Bailey was a vice-driven cesspool called Pottersville. No one looked out for each other there. It was every man and woman for themselves.

Only after George saw how miserable everyone in town was without him did he realize his immeasurable worth. His acts, though each one small, were numerous and turned out to have the biggest impact on the community.

His work and his life may not have made significant contributions to the world at large. But to Bedford Falls, George Bailey meant the world.

No matter what you do for a living, you mean the world to someone else. You are important to your community. You have immeasurable qualitative value.

No one can rightly call you non-essential. Your worth and your work in the community are both priceless.

If non-essential were a true measure of human worth, then the messianic world would not have the hope that has inspired millions for centuries to discover the love of something greater than themselves.

Just how important was Joseph, a simple carpenter from Nazareth? To the Roman Empire that ruled over Israel at the time, Joseph was nothing more than a number to be counted and a purse to be emptied.

How important was Mary, the young woman betrothed to him? She might as well have been invisible to the Roman world.

And yet, these two non-essential individuals made a 100-mile journey together to Bethlehem for a Roman census.

So unimportant were they that only one person in the tiny shepherding community offered any hospitality at all to the couple in their time of great need.

Mary, having carried a child full term, had gone into labor. But no one would open their doors to her.

Only one resident offered any sort of shelter: A livestock manger cut into the side of a hill.

There Mary delivered the Holy Christ Child.

Suddenly, the least amongst us had become the greatest: Mary, for bringing the Son of God into the world; and Joseph, for leading her safely to the place where Biblical prophecy was manifest.

For all intents and purposes, Mary and Joseph couldn't have been more non-essential to the Roman world in which they lived. But they ended up meaning the world to multitudes for generations afterward.

And the Christ Child couldn't have appeared any more non-essential to his community than having grown up in the household of a common Jewish carpenter.

But we know how that story played out. Non-essential? Hardly.

Even tiny, decrepit little wooden Christmas trees lost in a lot full of towering shiny aluminum prove to be essential to someone.

Charlie Brown couldn't have done without the homely little tree that no one else wanted. He needed it to help remind him what Christmas was all about.

The next time you feel unimportant, because of what someone else says or does, please remember that there is no such thing as non-essential.

Someone somewhere values you. May each of us realize our worth this Christmas.

— Brett Fisher is a writer and former journalist residing in Carson City