Gifts

Fourteenth Day of Advent

Luke 2:7 She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger,…

I’m one of those odd people you run into from time to time who doesn’t like stuff. It’s not an ascetic accomplishment or a moral achievement. It isn’t a virtue. It’s simply the way I came. And it isn’t quite total. I really like books for example, and I do have a pocket-watch that’s special to me. But that’s about it. Some people assume it’s a good thing, but I’m not so sure. If I lived alone I might choose to live more like a hermit than would actually be good for me. And I fear that those who live with me live more like hermits than they might choose, and quite possibly than is actually good for them. It’s just a condition. I can’t help it. We all have flaws.

But, in spite of all this, or maybe because of it, there is something I love about gifts. It isn’t the stuff, but the gift.

1. Gifts are surprises. Sometimes, in a life that is full of surprises, we need to be reminded that not all surprises are bad. In fact life itself, which is the biggest gift any of us have received, is also, undoubtedly, our biggest surprise.

2. Gifts are grace. They are not compensation for something we’ve done. They’re not something we’ve earned or deserved. And, as children soon discover, they come whether or not we have been good. They are simply reminders that love comes before everything, and grace is the firstborn child of love.

3. Gifts are the essence of community; communion. Through gifts we establish our relationships with one another. And though we generally think colourful packages, far more often our gifts are attention, or time, or affection, or care, encouragement, sympathy, counsel, assistance. And each of these things are bits of ourselves.

And so, here we have it, the very first Christmas gift. The number one gift ever given, all wrapped up and lying in a manger. Hidden in a place accessible to everyone, where anyone can come and receive. And so, in memory of that prototypical gift, we give gifts to others at Christmas. We wrap them all up and put them in the oddest places, in a stocking or under a tree.

And, like Mary and Joseph, somehow we know that these gifts are not really from us. We may be the instruments, but not really the source. Father Christmas we say, which is to say Christmas itself is the giver, or Santa (the Saint), or Kris Kringle (the Christ Child). And all of these forms are just our way of saying that, somehow, this gift is from Life, or from Love, or from God.