The true gift
December 31, 2006 | 12:00am
Who knew there would be so much politics involved in gift giving? I think of the history of gift giving and go back to the story of the Magi. They are portrayed as
Wise Men, Kings even. But they always come in three, and unlike the shepherds, they are named. Melchor, Gaspar and Balthazar. They bear specific gifts for the Child Jesus: gold, frankincense and myrrh. We are told that these gifts signify the kingship, the glory and the death of the Christ Child. We are told that the coming of these men signifies that the Wisest in the land have recognized the import of this birth.
Like most obsessive-compulsive women, I actually begin Christmas shopping in November. For as long as I can remember, I have always been finished with my entire list of people to buy for by the first week of December. I do this consciously and willingly and I do not mind the extra money I will have to spend to have this accomplished. I figure that, although I do not benefit from Christmas sales, or from fantastic bargains from bazaars, I do benefit from staying close to home as the traffic becomes unbearable. I am able to stay with the children and have, oh my goodness, Christmas carols playing in our living room as we simply hang out together.
This was of course, before life became complicated. I have at least five jobs, I now have three children, I have a… bigger life, and the old system just doesn’t work anymore. So yes, this year saw me shopping for presents until the morning of Dec. 24.
At some point, bearing being in line for the hundredth time in an overcrowded mall, I began to ask the question most of us should ask but never dare to answer. "Why am I buying this person this present?"
Whose generosity among the humans has gotten this story going?
There was certainly Mother Mary’s generosity when she acceded to be the handmaid of the Lord. And there was certainly generosity on the part of Joseph who believed in the story of the angel and stood by his young bride. When I was little, it was the innkeeper’s generosity that touched me most. I have no idea why. I guess it would have been easier to turn the pregnant woman on a donkey away, just like all the other innkeepers. But he was different. And I like his story, because his required no angelic intervention.
To those of us who have done this for years for our officemates, our families, our neighbors, our subordinates and our superiors, it is expected. We do not question the validity or usefulness of such an enterprise. Our only thought is not to show up empty-handed at the Christmas party. We follow religiously the-not-less-than-P300 exchange gift rule, because we understand the rules of the game.
We are frightened that our present may not be enough to encapsulate our receiver’s worth or standing. We worry that we will be thought of as ungenerous or, worst of all, cheap!
When I was little, it seemed simple enough. The tree was always overflowing with presents. Ma and Pa always knew what I wanted. Miraculously, all the things I ever asked from Santa would appear from out of nowhere (in spite of the everyday accounting of the gifts under the tree that I would do). I was certain to receive a present from each brother and each sister. Never did I wonder if the gift was good enough, or big enough or appropriate enough. When I look back on my childhood, it is not the actual present that has caused the joy. It was the knowledge of the present under the tree from those I loved best; it was the anticipation of waiting; it was the tearing of the wrapper that I looked forward to the most.
Who knew that so much thinking would be involved in the giving of presents?
I picture the first Christmas and I am overwhelmed by the silence of the scene. And yet everything about the experience of giving birth tells me it must have been a noisy place. The shepherds must have been talking to each other. Everyone must have oohed and aahed when the Kings brought out their presents. Surely the bellowing of the cows and the neighing of the horses frightened the Christ Child.
I can reconstruct the feeling of both joy and fear. Outside this manger lies the road to Herod where the Kings are expected to return with news of the birth. Outside this manger lay the destiny of Christ: his death. How wonderful to just stay in the manger.
A few years ago, our family decided to discontinue the giving of presents. We vowed that we would only give presents to children aged 13 and below. We wanted to do this in order to save money and in order to decrease our own stress over finding that perfect present. This idea made perfect sense to me and to all of us grownups.
Midnight came and the children proceeded to open their presents. The grownups helped them and watched as each present was opened. Instead of feeling happy for the children and feeling victorious that we no longer had to play this game with our own cousins, I felt sad and empty. It had dawned on me how giving is so linked to receiving. I had given, but had not received. I had underestimated lessons one can learn from the humility of receiving.
What gift can I bring to the manger?
I think of the sleepy shepherds in this story. Woken by a great light, they have the most to look forward to by this birth! I wonder how they made sense of it. If the angels’ light opened their eyes to this event in a way they could not have on their own. When the Kings brought and laid out their presents, I wonder if they wished they had brought something, too.
As I buy the usual suspects – coffee mugs, candles, key chains, etc. – I am silently dreading opening the same presents for myself. I think of what I would want to receive and I am dumbstruck because all I want is, maybe, a new ball pen.
The appearance of the Wise Men bringing gifts to the Christ Child explains our need to give presents. It is a human response to a divine gift. This has filtered down throughout history and so when Christmas comes, we repeat this ancient gesture. We give gifts to others, as a way of repeating what the Kings did. But here’s the clincher: Christ waits for our own present… to Him.
You may reach me at Rica.Santos@gmail.com
Wise Men, Kings even. But they always come in three, and unlike the shepherds, they are named. Melchor, Gaspar and Balthazar. They bear specific gifts for the Child Jesus: gold, frankincense and myrrh. We are told that these gifts signify the kingship, the glory and the death of the Christ Child. We are told that the coming of these men signifies that the Wisest in the land have recognized the import of this birth.
Like most obsessive-compulsive women, I actually begin Christmas shopping in November. For as long as I can remember, I have always been finished with my entire list of people to buy for by the first week of December. I do this consciously and willingly and I do not mind the extra money I will have to spend to have this accomplished. I figure that, although I do not benefit from Christmas sales, or from fantastic bargains from bazaars, I do benefit from staying close to home as the traffic becomes unbearable. I am able to stay with the children and have, oh my goodness, Christmas carols playing in our living room as we simply hang out together.
This was of course, before life became complicated. I have at least five jobs, I now have three children, I have a… bigger life, and the old system just doesn’t work anymore. So yes, this year saw me shopping for presents until the morning of Dec. 24.
At some point, bearing being in line for the hundredth time in an overcrowded mall, I began to ask the question most of us should ask but never dare to answer. "Why am I buying this person this present?"
Whose generosity among the humans has gotten this story going?
There was certainly Mother Mary’s generosity when she acceded to be the handmaid of the Lord. And there was certainly generosity on the part of Joseph who believed in the story of the angel and stood by his young bride. When I was little, it was the innkeeper’s generosity that touched me most. I have no idea why. I guess it would have been easier to turn the pregnant woman on a donkey away, just like all the other innkeepers. But he was different. And I like his story, because his required no angelic intervention.
To those of us who have done this for years for our officemates, our families, our neighbors, our subordinates and our superiors, it is expected. We do not question the validity or usefulness of such an enterprise. Our only thought is not to show up empty-handed at the Christmas party. We follow religiously the-not-less-than-P300 exchange gift rule, because we understand the rules of the game.
We are frightened that our present may not be enough to encapsulate our receiver’s worth or standing. We worry that we will be thought of as ungenerous or, worst of all, cheap!
When I was little, it seemed simple enough. The tree was always overflowing with presents. Ma and Pa always knew what I wanted. Miraculously, all the things I ever asked from Santa would appear from out of nowhere (in spite of the everyday accounting of the gifts under the tree that I would do). I was certain to receive a present from each brother and each sister. Never did I wonder if the gift was good enough, or big enough or appropriate enough. When I look back on my childhood, it is not the actual present that has caused the joy. It was the knowledge of the present under the tree from those I loved best; it was the anticipation of waiting; it was the tearing of the wrapper that I looked forward to the most.
Who knew that so much thinking would be involved in the giving of presents?
I picture the first Christmas and I am overwhelmed by the silence of the scene. And yet everything about the experience of giving birth tells me it must have been a noisy place. The shepherds must have been talking to each other. Everyone must have oohed and aahed when the Kings brought out their presents. Surely the bellowing of the cows and the neighing of the horses frightened the Christ Child.
I can reconstruct the feeling of both joy and fear. Outside this manger lies the road to Herod where the Kings are expected to return with news of the birth. Outside this manger lay the destiny of Christ: his death. How wonderful to just stay in the manger.
A few years ago, our family decided to discontinue the giving of presents. We vowed that we would only give presents to children aged 13 and below. We wanted to do this in order to save money and in order to decrease our own stress over finding that perfect present. This idea made perfect sense to me and to all of us grownups.
Midnight came and the children proceeded to open their presents. The grownups helped them and watched as each present was opened. Instead of feeling happy for the children and feeling victorious that we no longer had to play this game with our own cousins, I felt sad and empty. It had dawned on me how giving is so linked to receiving. I had given, but had not received. I had underestimated lessons one can learn from the humility of receiving.
What gift can I bring to the manger?
I think of the sleepy shepherds in this story. Woken by a great light, they have the most to look forward to by this birth! I wonder how they made sense of it. If the angels’ light opened their eyes to this event in a way they could not have on their own. When the Kings brought and laid out their presents, I wonder if they wished they had brought something, too.
As I buy the usual suspects – coffee mugs, candles, key chains, etc. – I am silently dreading opening the same presents for myself. I think of what I would want to receive and I am dumbstruck because all I want is, maybe, a new ball pen.
The appearance of the Wise Men bringing gifts to the Christ Child explains our need to give presents. It is a human response to a divine gift. This has filtered down throughout history and so when Christmas comes, we repeat this ancient gesture. We give gifts to others, as a way of repeating what the Kings did. But here’s the clincher: Christ waits for our own present… to Him.
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