They rise in the darkness as a light for the upright.
Psalm 112:4
“Thank you for your generous gift.” I can’t count the number of thank-you notes I have written over the years that have included this line. Yet as I ponder the nature of generosity, it occurs to me that to call a gift “generous” is at best redundant, and at worst, adding a modifier that suggests that a gift of lesser monetary value would not merit the designation. In other words, if a gift doesn’t get a donor’s name engraved into the wall of the museum or concert hall, it doesn’t qualify for the addition of the adjective.
But a gift is a gift. It is something freely given out of love, or gratitude, or joy, or appreciation, without expectation of a response from the recipient. If it is a gift, it isn’t more or less generous because it is bigger or smaller than what might normally be expected. It is simply a kindness shown that is a benefit to both the giver and the receiver. And when this is true, the receiver usually passes it on in some way to another. Generosity tends to beget generosity.
Christmas, at its best, is a season of generosity. The gifts we give one another are imitations of those gifts given by the Magi to the Holy Family. They are expressions of gratitude for the privilege of being a part of the story, being let in on a miracle, being the recipients of a grace we did nothing to earn. Our relationships with the ones to whom we give gifts are treasures lavished upon us and inspire a generosity that wants to broadcast its gratitude for a resource on which no price can be placed. And so we give gifts.
Christmas, at its worst, is a season of obligation. The gifts we give are a part of a social protocol. Their value is closely watched and matched with the message we are supposed to send. They are all about meeting an expectation, being just enough to properly recognize where the relationship falls in a hierarchy of relationships. Machiavelli’s political writings could perhaps be construed as an illustration of how one goes about mastering the exchanges of power that are inherent in these kinds of gifts.
I come to Christmas each year with a deep desire to live into the Christmas of generosity. O how I want to follow the Magi to Bethlehem and unthinkingly, giddily and somewhat foolishly, lay my gold, frankincense and myrrh at the base of the manger simply because I am so grateful to be there. But I would not be honest if I did not admit that the Christmas of obligation always worms its way into my consciousness and takes up residence in some dark corner of my soul. And this makes me want to run from the holiday and hide someplace until well after Epiphany.
Yet this Advent as we have been pondering the light and the various ways we can live in hope in spite of the darkness, I have found encouragement in the Psalms to stay put and persevere. Psalm 112 is one of those places of encouragement, especially in that it celebrates how acts of generosity reflect God’s light. Here are some of highlights, (some sound bites I have excised from the original context and rearranged):
Happy are those who fear the Lord, who greatly delight in God,
Wealth and riches are in their houses
They have distributed freely, they have given to the poor.
It is well with those who deal generously and lend
They rise in the darkness as a light for the upright,
they are gracious, merciful and righteous.
Their hearts are steady, they will not be afraid.
The Psalm just keeps saying the same thing: those who know they are rich, who know they possess an inexhaustible resource, cannot help but be a generous presence in their world. The fear of the Lord, the awe we know as we ponder the unfathomable depths of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness, displaces our fear of scarcity. The darkness of want is shattered by the light of God’s love. The confidence that we have more than enough gives birth to a bold generosity that reflects the warmth of God’s light to our world. And so on. . . , and so on. . . , and so on . . . .
Generosity is an expression of gratitude for a gift we have been given. It is not something we muster up and then show forth. It is something that uncontrollably flows out of us because we have no capacity to contain it, because we are running over with it. The living water Jesus gives us to drink becomes a “spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The gift that God gives us keeps on giving.
David Rohrer
12/23/2020