As much as I like that we have an entire holiday season (Advent-the Christmas season) to celebrate the miraculous birth of the Word Incarnate, I can honestly say that I have always been a bit of a "Scrooge" when it comes to Christmas. It isn't because of the emphasis on the birth, and it isn't because of the family. It is only partly because of the endless Christmas music being played right after Thanksgiving, the store ads encouraging everyone to buy, the crowds at shopping centers and the high running emotions of everyone else. These things don't bother me as much as one particular thing: the gift exchange.
The reason why I always dread the gifts is simple: It's not really a system of giving. For one thing, often times we get what we expect. We ask for certain things, thereby, what we receive is not truly a gift, but rather is the fulfillment of a request. I ask friends for favors from time to time, and if a friend fulfills this, I don't really understand the fulfillment of a request to be on the level of gift, but more closely related to the level of promise fulfillment.
This leads to the second point. Gift exchange is exactly that: it's an exchange. I hope to get something good from those whom I am close to who have more resources. Likewise, I have to give according to my own resources. However, I am expected to give to those who give to me and I, in turn, expect a gift from those to whom I give presents. Furthermore, though I fully intend to spend something appropriate to my means, I feel guilty if my gift does not approximate the value of the received gift, and likewise the giver feels slighted. This can lead to the exact opposite goal of Christmas, which ought to bring people together, rather than create rifts within them. For this reason, Christmas gift exchange is even more emotionally and socially disruptive than is birthday gift exchange, in which one person receives with no expectation to provide similar gifts.
Third, the gifts almost always are expected to be some material possession. The children need to have the brand new toy advertised on cartoons. Adult friends may expect a fine wine or liquor, or perhaps jewelry. The gift's worth is measured not in the uniqueness, or the emotional worth, but rather the economic worth. A six-pack of beer that I brewed might be nice, but ONLY if my brew itself turned out well. A handmade piece of furniture, or art is only a "good" gift if it measures up to my expectation of aesthetic appeal. If I write you a poem, it better be framed, or published. Even these gifts, however, have more appeal to them than a gift of time. If I swear a few hours of my time to you to talk or fish or see a movie, this is not considered an adequate gift, though, in all reality, this gift improves the relationship much more than does a shiny new computer, car or television.
For this reason, gift giving functions more as an economy than as gift. Jacques Derrida speaks of the "economy of gift" an economy of giving and taking. However, he argues, the true gift is the one that can not be returned.
I agree with this. Gifts, as gifts, are not given as a sort of promissory note for something of equal value. They are not vouchers guaranteeing future gifts. This mindset, this "economics of giving" mentality creates for us a selfish social system. What kind of gift are we giving if we expect a return? Are we merely making an investment? And, if so, what is our purpose in giving the gift? We say we give gifts to each other on Christmas to commemorate Jesus' life. Sometimes we use the rationale of the gifts of the Magi, other times we compare our gifts to Jesus' gift of life (or death, to use Derrida's words). What did the Magi receive for their gifts? Certainly it wasn't eternal life, for that was given to all of humanity. What did Jesus receive for His gift? He received death! How can we expect gifts if we say we are celebrating the Incarnation?
Gift giving is strange in this way, especially in contemporary Western society. In some cultures, like certain Asian cultures and the ancient Greeks, gifts were given from a patron to the object of his affection. The wealthier, more established men or women would shower their disciples with gifts, with no expectation of return, for the mentor would probably pass on before he could be repaid. In certain Native American cultures, gifts were given as a sign of respect, and those who received them only accepted them if she deemed them worthy of her. While this fosters a sort of tributary system, the receiving party never expected to repay the gift, and thus it was, in ways, a true gift. In other cultures, gift exchange demonstrates who has the dominant position in a relationship. Whoever gives the greater gift is the more powerful and the other person is indebted, though will not pay the debt off with another gift.
While these three examples don't necessarily demonstrate what Derrida and I mean by gift, they do represent the purpose of gift much better than does the Western style of giving. For one thing, in these systems gifts are not expected. Thus, the gift itself comes as a surprise and is not a request, nor an expectation. Second, the gifts are not meant to be repayment or to equalize parties. This is important because the relationship develops a sort of dependence quality to it. The parties are loyal to each other because one feels indebted to the other, and the other is loyal out of respect for the loyalty received. In the Western system, we try to achieve independent equilibrium, maintaining that we owe nothing to anyone and preventing true relational bonding. Third, if a gift of a certain value is not expected, the gift does not have to take the form of something financially quantifiable. I can freely give you unique advice. You can freely take time you would otherwise not to spend time with me. He can devote his weekend to making sure things go well for her on an important occasion. We already do these things, but we don't consider them gifts because we have become caught up in the notion that gift must entail retail value.
Derrida's definition of gift, then, is something that cannot be repaid, something that cannot be expected or requested and cannot be thanked. It must either be anonymous or circumstances must make it impossible for the donor to receive recognition. It cannot be out of request, otherwise it is merely fulfillment of promise and thus functions more contractually than beneficently. It must be of some nature that the receiver cannot make restitution, otherwise it is merely purchase or trade.
Jesus tells us not to give for recognition (Matthew 6:1). Those who "blow a trumpet" or otherwise make a scene of their donation do so only to gain something. It is not a true gift. It is an exchange for fame, patronage, favorable recognition or legacy. Those who "do alms in secret," on the other hand, don't receive earthly reward. Of course, the verse states that God will reward those who do alms which sets up the problematic situation of doing alms to get in heaven (read: Indulgences), however, the moral theologian realizes that while the Scripture states that God will reward those who do "invisible alms" the truly beneficent person will do alms out of a sense of the good and not for some Karmic reward. The point is not whether we receive God's blessings openly but rather that we learn to enjoy giving without recognition.
Jesus also tells us when we have banquets to invite those who cannot ever hope to repay (the poor and the handicapped) (Luke 14:13). Once again, there is the promise of some sort of supernatural reparation, but, once again, the point here is not that we receive some great reward in Paradise. Rather, the point is that we ought to have those who can never repay us owe us. This is not to lord it over them, but rather, it is to teach us not to require the repayment of everything. We give to those who cannot repay us because it is no longer a gift if we have been repaid for it.
Jesus, as a gift Himself, represents the way in which gifts do NOT need to be financially estimable. "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son" (John 3:16). What monetary value is the crucifixion of Jesus? How does one calculate salvation? Is there a special box on our tax forms for the gift of Grace? One cannot put a price tag on a human life, especially if that life happens to be God become man. Thus, we see that God demonstrates this gift form best of all, for no amount of money can be equivalent to the gift of Jesus.
We see in Jesus, then, the ultimate, and true, gift. In Jesus' death, He gave us something that He could receive no personal recognition for. While we now venerate and worship Jesus, we cannot personally thank Him, and even as he hung on the cross, he received not so much as an expression of gratitude. Rather, he received scorn and abuse from most, and, at best, the weeping and wailing of a few. He also gave us something we can never pay back the "gift of death." Jesus died for us, and we cannot, in turn, die for Jesus in the same way. Jesus' death provides for us. The best we can do, in turn, is to die in His name, though it does nothing personally for Him, for He is already saved and is already risen (however, in the case of the martyrs, if it comes down to dying for Him and denying Him, much theology suggests right relation with Christ requires not denying Him). Finally, as previously mentioned, there is no monetary value one can fix for the Passion, death and resurrection.
Thus, if I might leave but one thing with you for this Christmas season, and indeed, for all year around, it's that the true meaning of Christmas is not found in the manger, nor the jolly red-suited saint and especially not in the public exchange of items of equal value. Rather, the true meaning of Christmas lies in Christ's ultimate gift for us, a gift of death and life, a gift that we can never repay and a gift that we can never thank Him enough for.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
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