Christmas is here! And that means everything is out of place for a while. There are big trees inside little houses, we all eat more than usual, and, of course, we cannot forget the pandemonium of shopping in crowded malls. This time of year is always both bewildering and exhilarating to me as I think back on what started off this retail madness.
When baby Jesus was born, the three wise men or the Magi are said to have brought Him gifts, setting off (unwittingly, I'm sure) the trend of giving gifts for Christmas. They purportedly brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. We all know that the gift of gold or money is always welcome, especially with a new baby to diaper and a top-of-the-line and all-options-loaded donkey to pay off and feed. However, I can't help but wonder: did Mary really need the frankincense and myrrh, and if she did not, what did she ever do with them?
Growing up in India, as a Hindu, I was always jealous of my Christian friends. They had a jolly old man with a bottomless purse, aka Santa Claus, who bankrolled an entire holiday for them. Thanks to this guy, they not only got new dresses for Christmas, but also gifts to be enjoyed and showed off. Not that we were hurting, but there is just something about a box all wrapped up and tied up with colored ribbons.
Of course, an integral part of the magic of receiving gifts as a child is believing in the existence of Santa Claus. Now, if the concept of Santa had originated in India, there would be temples to him, regular prayers held throughout the year, and probably even a cult of Santa-ites. But here, he is a strange figure who you believe in totally for the first few years of your life, and then go through the rest of it knowing that it is a lie. This double standard can even affect how you view a gift. If this kind-hearted stranger brings it to you, the gift is wonderful; but if you know that your parents got it, then you think that the least they could have done is go to shop around for a nicer color.
The magical age when children believe in Santa disappears soon enough in elementary school when they encounter either an agnostic's child or an obnoxious know-it-all who bursts their bubble. Some parents actually get mad when their child finds out the truth. In my opinion, that is carrying things a little too far. It is all very well to want to relive your own childhood through your child's innocence, but believe me, there will be nothing cute about it when your 21-year-old is seen posting a letter to Mr. Santa Claus, North Pole. Now, if somebody were to actually publish an article about how Santa Claus is just a mythical concept made up by mall-owners and people in search of seasonal employment, all heck will break lose.
In our own family, we have circumvented this problem by telling our daughters that while Santa does exist (after all, they have a picture with him at the mall), he is a very busy man, so he asks Mom and Dad to pick out their gifts. We have also told them that they can never divulge this secret to their friends otherwise Santa won't recommend them for gifts next year (so as to avoid hate mail from angry parents).
In the minds of children, gifts at Christmas are always associated with Santa, who disappears as they reach adulthood. However, the tradition of gift giving lingers, because no amount of reasoning can stop us from craving nice things, can it? Let us face it: no matter how much we decry the materialism that pervades the holiday, we still like to look in the shops at this time of the year. When else can we find an ironclad reason for plunking down 20 bucks for a plush dog wearing a snow hat and scarf that takes 4 AA batteries and barks to the tune of 'Jingle bells'? We all need to feel good about our lives once in a while, and nothing says "I feel good" like a gift that we don't need and can't afford.
That is why I feel bereft: I never got cool gifts for Christmas. When I came to the U.S. at the ripe old age of 22, I didn't have a rich friend who might get me something fantastic. I was a struggling student myself who certainly couldn't afford anything extravagant for myself. Then I fell in love and got married ... to a man who doesn't believe in surprise gifts and gift-wrapping. Mind you, I'm not complaining (imagine if I would at this time of the year,), but getting a winter jacket that I myself picked out and that I absolutely need, in its Macy's bag, just doesn't cut it. What is worse, after years of penny pinching, there is so much guilt associated with extravagant spending that the purchase of any item priced at over $10 might just put me in therapy.
So I drive by the malls seething with envy over being excluded from the materialistic orgy inside. I lament that I was not born to American parents, who might even have divorced and remarried once or twice, which would have culminated in my receiving many expensive presents from multiple stepfamilies. And why, oh why, did I choose to have a few good friends instead of a large group of contacts who air-kiss cheeks and hand out expensive stuff at the end of every year?
Wait ... maybe that is what it was all about! No, not the stuff about divorce or insincere friends, but the part about what a feel-good gift is all about.
I researched frankincense and myrrh and here is what I found. They are both plant resins that are constituents of perfumes and incenses, and used to be worth more than their weight in gold in historic times. So here is my theory: Mary didn't actually need any frankincense or myrrh, she certainly couldn't afford any on her monthly budget, but she might have really liked the stuff. So the Magi gifted those things to gladden her heart on the occasion of the birth of her child, something akin to buying a new mother a bottle of expensive perfume.
If that was the case, they were indeed wise men ... | |
