THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS

Giving presents is a tricky business!   What do you give someone who has everything?  Well, there’s a shop in the seaside town of Lyne Regis on the English south coast, which will solve your problem.  That part of the coast is famous for the fossils to be found there.  Not surprisingly, there are shops which sell these fascinating discoveries -the remains of exotic-looking creatures that lived millions of years ago. One of them was triumphantly described as, “The present for the person who has everything.”   What could that be?  To my amazement and amusement it was nothing less, or more, than the fossilised turd of a giant turtle!

I wonder what the recipient thought!  Would he find it an interesting conversation-piece and treasure it as something no-one else possessed? Could it make a useful paper-weight.  Or, not welcoming such a gift, either hide it or throw it away.  At best he might say, “He or she meant well.  After all, it’s the thought that counts.”  I bet we’ve all reacted that way when we’ve received unwanted gifts.

That got me thinking about giving and receiving presents.  Some people give a lot of thought in selecting a gift.  They consider what would appeal to Uncle Joe or  Auntie Fanny. What would he or she like?   But it can work the other way. As young children Peter and I gave our mother a shoe-last for Christmas –just the thing we would have found useful for hammering studs into our football boots!  Mother was gracious and grateful to have received such a surprising token of our love –even though we had been thinking more about our needs than hers.

There can be a certain edge to our motives when we pass on to others what we don’t want ourselves.  Some years ago my brother, Peter, passed on to me a deodorant he had been given.  His thoughtful gesture was somewhat spoilt by his mischievously remarking that I had a greater need than him!   I won’t tell you what I said. 

And I can remember preaching for a Religious Sister’s Silver Jubilee of her first her vows.   Since I spent the night at the convent the sisters invited me to their recreation.  We sat around a table stacked with presents other convents had given to the Jubilarian.   She was first invited to take a selection.  Then each of the sisters, and I, made our choice.  An admirable example of community sharing, with every one receiving presents.  Eventually there remained a few which no one wanted. What should be done with them?  No problem. The superior said they would be given to the next Jubilarian.   I have visions of these unwanted gifts going the rounds of all the convents within that Congregation. Eventually they would have returned to the convents which first bought and sent them!

But it can work the other way, when the gift is worth far more to us than what it would have cost to buy or replace. We cherish it for sentimental reasons. Nothing could persuade us to part with it.  A child may cling to a much-loved and well-worn toy.  If lost, it cannot be replaced by a new and better one.  Sometimes a particular object has a special meaning for us.  Someone dear to us has given it.  The importance of the giver adds a special value to the gift. For that reason, nothing could persuade us to part with it. If lost, we are desolate; when it’s found we are overjoyed.  That’s how I felt when I recently lost the penknife Dad gave me 50 years earlier, shortly before he died.  No other knife, however good, could have replaced Dad’s gift.  Great was my joy when Peter found it in a jacket I had lent him!

All these musings have been sparked by our custom of giving presents at Christmas time.   I believe that in some countries that’s done on the feast of St. Nicholas –hence the tradition of Santa Claus. It’s argued that on the feast of the birthday of Christ we should focus on the greatest gift of all –God the Father giving His Son to the human race. Certainly that was the greatest gift of God’s love. That was the thought which really counted. 

There’s something magnificently strange about Christmas.  We, who celebrated the birthday of Jesus, are the very ones who received the most splendid gift imaginable...the ‘Birthday Boy’ Himself, Jesus. The thought that counts is the one that springs from the Father who loved the world so much that He sent His Son.  Our thoughts that count will be of thanks, love, praise and adoration.

On our brother Geoff’s twenty first birthday he made a speech in which he thanked our parents for having him.  That made me think that on our birthdays we should thank our parents for the gift of life and express our gratitude with a gift, rather than them giving us a present.

And what about the Magi, with their exotic gifts?  They followed the custom of giving a present in recognition of someone’s importance. Heads of State regularly exchange gifts, which none of them really needs.  What they do with them is another matter.

So when the Magi presented Jesus with gifts that was a sign of their respect, their reverence for Him.  And what did He give them?    Something far more wonderful –Himself, as they came to believe in Him.  No material present, however costly, could possibly equal the gift of His love and friendship.  That is precisely what the Son of God-made-man has given not only to the Magi, but also to each one of us.

What can we possibly give in return?  Well, nothing that we haven’t already received from God.  We are like young children who buy their parents a present with the pocket money they have been given.   But as we exchange presents we exchange the gift of love.  That’s what’s most important.  Without love the present is meaningless, even an insult.

That must be the way for me, and all of us, to meet God –to welcome His loving gift of Himself, and to gives ourselves, in love, to Him.  There’s no other way.

Incidentally, I wonder what Mary and Joseph did with the gold, frankincense and myrrh.  Did those valuable gifts come in useful for bartering, when they had to flee with the infant Jesus to the security of Egypt?  Suggestions, please.

Isidore O.P.

In a week Fr. Isidore will reflect on Meeting God in 'Ordinary Time.'