An Age Old Question

Mom called the other day, asking that question she's been asking me and my sister for decades: what do you want for Christmas? As I thought about an answer, I realized, again, the answer is nothing. I couldn’t think of a thing I need, and not much that I want.

Sure there are things I’d love to have (a million dollars, a two car garage – the latter so I can fill it with the stuff I got in Christmases past), but I don’t NEED anything. And the stuff I want, most people who aren’t Donald Trump, aren’t in a position to give.

Sermons or sermonettes on the commercialization of Christmas are almost as common as Macy’s daily “one time event” catalogues. I remember hearing these sermons growing up, and I recently watched the very old “Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street” which is also a sermon against crass commercialism. It’s easy to rail against our capitalistic commercialism. But who doesn’t go to the mall and enjoy looking at those shiny and soft things?

When I heard these sermons, I used to think the problem was out there – at the Mall, in the shopping center, or in our system that encourages material acquisition. But at best, that is only a fraction of the picture. Sure there are crass business people, Enron types, who ought to be fired, or in some cases put in jail. But most corporations are just doing business. How Macy’s makes any money after they pay their printing bill, I don’t understand, but I’m sure they’ve got that figured out. I agree with Ben Franklin who wrote that a rightly balanced desire for things helps build a strong economy – and you aid your neighbor when you rightly want right things. Desiring to live in a hovel helps no one. Including you.

I don’t think the problem is at the mall. I think the problem is in our heart. The problem is disordered love. When we love a flat screen television more than a person, there is a problem. When we focus solely on toys and tools and not baby Jesus and ultimate love, there is a problem.

How do we know if you heart is well ordered? God has given us giving. That is the true test. Are we willing to give, to convey our love by generous sacrificial gifts? This is where the sleigh sleds hit the snow. Dickens’ Scrooge figured it out, but it took three ghosts for him to see that it is only what we give that we keep.

For me, the reminder came in the faces and laughter of the African children we kept on Sunday night. 10 years old, orphaned, with a questionable future and no physical assets, they were amazingly happy. What they really missed was no “thing.” The question came during the evening: “are your parents still living?” Cecelia and I both, with a twinge of survivors guilt, were able to answer yes.

What do I want for Christmas? A whole lot more than a million dollars. I want a grateful and giving heart.