Gifts

As I sit to write today, I find myself wondering (as so frequently I do!) where the time has gone. Thanksgiving is already next week, as we get catapulted into the fervor of the holiday season. I hope, whatever your plans are for next week, you travel safely.

 Already Christmas shopping, I’ve been thinking about the theology of gifts. There is a lot of dialogue in theological circles about whether a gift can really be a gift if it’s exchanged or expected. The true meaning of a gift is that it’s freely given—no strings attached, no expectation of a gift in return, no expectation, even of gratitude. By that standard, a lot of what we do isn’t gift giving at all; it’s a trade.  Parenthood is a true gift in that respect—hearing from a mother at the end of her rope with a teenaged child the other day, I thought about the wonderful gift that she gives him—the gift of accepting his anger, even at the cost of her own pain. He might grow up and thank her for that constancy and love; he might not. But either way, she still gives the gift out of the love that binds them together.  A cynic might argue that parents just care for our children so they will eventually care for us, but I think that misses something. Our love isn’t our own achievement; love comes from somewhere else.  As the first letter of John says, “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God…God is love and those who abide in love abide in God.”  As we love, we give the love that we first received in Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us. A parent, however imperfectly, reflects that love. In a faith community, we aim to mirror that love as well.

 That’s real gift giving—but I think the smaller gifts we give each other are important, too. Of course the Christmas season can get too commercialized and acquisitive. Like much in our life, it can be empty and exchange-based.  But at its best, gift giving is an invitation to transformation.  The trick, though, is that we have to be open to the ways that giving changes us—not the way that we expect our giving to change others.  The gift I give to you is as much for me as it is for you. 

 This is what giving to a church is about, too. To give, really and truly sacrificially, is to trust God. Not just fitting in those extra few dollars at the end of the year, but really building that giving into the fabric of each of our days.  Someone was telling me recently about having decided not to buy a leaf blower. It’s the height of fall, and the leaves are everywhere, and it would certainly be nice to have one.  But he decided to give the money to church, instead, and something changed. Raking on the next Saturday morning, his daughter jumped in the leaves and they spent time together. He wasn’t standing in Sears and thinking, “if I don’t buy this, then God will reward me and I will have more family time,” he just gave out of faith, and received an unexpected blessing.  There will be times that raking those leaves will be a chore, but maybe other doors will open, and he’ll talk to the neighbors. Maybe he’ll be able to give the money that he would have spent on fuel to someone who’s hungry. The choices we make echo forward, as well as back, helping us to see our past in new ways. It is, as they say, not what you want, but what you need.