Giftmas

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.

On being jaded

Alexa and I tend to have hour and a half to two hour long conversations at night since she is currently two thousand miles away. Recently a lot of our discussions have been about what she deems as my extreme opinions. Admittedly, I harbor several opinions that are not only shocking, but far from main stream. However, it seems to me that in the course of my life, there have been many instances that have left me feeling far from comfortable with the world I live in.
I remember once hearing from my dad that some study showed that Conservatives, on average, were a lot more satisfied with their lives than were Liberals. I remember trying to come up with some kind of reason as to why the evidence there might be a little biased, but since then I've realized that it seems quite reasonable to me that it is the case that Liberals are less happy.
The cliche goes something like this, "Ignorance is bliss." This seems to me to be the case. Those who are happy with what they have and where they are tend to not have as many problems that they worry about and think about.
I remember discussing the issue of death with some people at a bar one night. I mentioned that it is morally impossible to kill another man without severely deranging one's mind in such a manner that he no longer believes that what he is doing is wrong. A quite drunken Penguin's fan who was celebrating their recent Stanley Cup victory replied that he knew a Vietnam War veteran who had told him that while fighting in the Jungles of Vietnam, it was impossible for them to kill the VC soldiers if they had looked them in the eyes. As long as they didn't look at the person and let themselves realize it was a person they were shooting at, they were able to do it.
My point with this little anecdote is this: When we are aware of what we are doing, it is impossible for us to do it a lot of times in good conscience. When Rachel Carson warned the country about DDT, we stopped using it. When Upton Sinclair wrote about the conditions at meat packing plants, Teddy Roosevelt established the FDA. When the plight of the Jews in concentration camps was made known, the world made up for it by establishing a homeland for them.
It is true that we can live our lives ignorant of what the world is really like and be ok with it. But once we know what's really going on, we cannot afford ethically to go back. Once we are aware that children in China, Bangladesh, and Malaysia work 13 hours a day for our benefit, in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia are forced into prostitution, in Ethiopia and Kenya are struggling to survive, in South Africa are the orphans of AIDS, in other countries around Africa are forced to become soldiers and in Mexico, India the Philippines and countless other countries have to beg for their food, we can no longer look at our own children in the same light.
And even aside from all the suffering that people endure in this world, there are also the little dreams that we sometimes see die as we learn the sad truth. When we know that there are people who cross the border every day for the chance to experience what we have, it is a grim testimony to what we take for granted. When we learn that people are people, no matter how they were born, we have to learn anew what it is to be kind and live the Golden Rule. When we realize the carnage and destruction that we have caused so much of, we must learn in our hearts to atone for these things.
The fairytale life that we wish we could live is really only a dream, and the truth does not set you free, it only makes you obligated. However, I believe that when we die, we will not be judged by God based on what Sacraments we have had, or whether we had enough faith, but whether we executed the commandment to love our neighbor properly. And our love is demonstrated by what we do and how we help.

Fides et ratio

I stumbled upon the image above one night while procrastinating instead of homeworking. It's a photo-shopped image of one of the "Atheist buses." The actual buses are driving around London preaching to everyone that since there is "probably no god" they should "just enjoy [their] live(s)." Somebody thought it would be funny to make an even stronger comment on religion with photo-shop. I disagreed, and commented my thoughts on the subject and became engaged in a nice little conversation with some anonymous poster.
But this is a position I have heard in various forms many times. I have heard many people talk about how dumb religion is, or how bad religion really is for humankind or how many attrocities have been committed by religions.
I would like to reply.
The fact of the matter is that if religion is responsible for a massive amount of bloodshed, science is just as culpable. Science in the twentieth century advanced so that we can now kill unparalleled numbers of people, all with the push of a button. Even the nineteenth century saw a new capability for bloodshed.
Starting in the 1800s Dr. Richard Gatling created the first automatic firearm, and shortly after, Alfred Nobel's work with nitroglycerin, gun cotton and dynamite led him to have such a guilty conscience that he created a peace award to make up for it. World War I brought in the horrors of mechanized warfare, the flame thrower, and, worst of all, the use of poison gases, the use of which prompted a special Geneva treaty against the use of chemical and biological warfare. Then came World War II and the catastrophic destruction wreaked when on August 6, 1945 we dropped the atom bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. Of course, following this were nuclear proliferation treaties and various other acts against nuclear war (excepting the invention of Hydrogen bomb and the Cold War). Even after this, we used Agent Orange in Vietnam.
And what of religion in all of this? None of the nations involved in either World War were fighting for religion. But, in Vatican II, nuclear warfare was strictly condemned. The atrocities of the NAZIs have been repeatedly condemned by the Church.
On the other hand, religion has done great things in the last hundred years. Mother Theresa of Calcutta and Dorothy Day fed the hungry. Thomas Merton protested war. Rev Martin Luther King, Jr fought injustice and inequality. Pope John Paul II helped liberate Poland. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was arrested for encouraging students to not fight for the NAZIs.
Granted, there have been attrocities committed by people claiming religion as the cause. But we must really ask ourselves, "Is religion the true motive?" Religion never teaches a man to kill his neighbor, nor does it ever teach him to take advantage or commit any injustice. However, evil men have used the name of religion to confuse others into committing horrible acts. Religious doctrines have never taught people to engage in mindless destruction or merciless violence.
However, against atheism, both Hitler and Stalin directed atheist states. Even more recently, Bosnia, still coming out of its socialistic, atheistic days, engaged in a effort of "ethnic cleansing."
Believers have a long tradition of examples to look up to. Jesus, the Buddha, the saints, the martyrs, and other have provided for us the lifestyles we should follow.

Human expiration dates

I'm not really sure how to address this topic. It's one I've given a lot of thought to over the years. But how does one go about when speaking on human mortality?
I've always seen the job of the priest and the job of the physician as opposites. The physician's job is to prevent death and to keep it as far away as possible. The priest's job is to prepare people for death, to teach them how to accept the reality of it.
A basic part of our biology teaches us to fear death. And for most of us, we also fear that there may just be nothing after death after all. If this was your outlook and fear, there's no wonder that you would work so hard to prevent death. So, from the time of Hippocrates we've been trying to delay death as well as we could. Within the last hundred years, we've eradicated polio, malaria and tuberculosis (in the US). We've increased our life expectancy so much that i continually climbs. But now, rather than dying of pneumonia or influenza, we die of cancer and heart disease.
My theory is this: human beings have built into them an expiration date. We all die at some point. All our medical advances have one goal in mind: immortality. We try to prolong our lives as much as possible, by putting death off indefinitely. But this is not our purpose. We were not designed to never die.
So, should we really be continuing on this endless quest for godliness? In my previous post I briefly made comment about some doubts about the Bible. One such doubt circles around the story of the Tower of Babel. However, even if I doubt the validity of the historic virtues of tale, it does have a lesson to be learned, as all passages of Bible have. The Tower of Babel teaches us not to try to exalt ourselves to the position of God. Humankind was not designed to try to take what God has set aside for Godself. We are not going to achieve immortality.
That being said, we should not despair either. If we all die, we all meet the same fate. In Pascal's words, we either disappear into nothingness, or fall into the hands of a wrathful God. I don't hold as much to the wrathful part, but I do think that we will end up in a similar place no matter who we are. A lot of Medieval pastoral theology focused on providing the hope for a better life for those who do lived seemingly meaningless lives.
But we haven't moved that far from the Middle Ages. Thanks to Nietzsche and the existentialists, we have another reason for considering our own existences. Kierkegaard emphasized the fact that we are hurtling uncontrollably towards our own deaths.
I don't wish to say there is no merit to medical technology or advances. Rather, I think we should turn our focus from living longer to living fuller.