With the cost of living crisis and prices rising, buying Christmas presents can feel a little overwhelming. Writer, Amari Yogendran shares how she has taken over the family gift giving role, and looks at where the tradition came from.

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Source: weedezign / Alamy Stock Photo

Like many families, mine has been hit hard by a combination of the cost-of-living crisis and job instability. Money is tight for us, and yet it seems to be ‘business as usual’ in the shops - with the dubious sales leaving us unsure as to whether we’re getting a good deal or whether the prices were astronomical to begin with. Either way, we’re heading to the shops in fear of prices rising, again.

As a self-professed whizz at finding discount codes and bargains, I have taken over my mum’s role as the ‘family gift buyer’ to help us save money this year - and I’ve been struck by the sheer scale of the task.

As a fairly frugal family, it seems absurd to me that we have gone from conserving money and thinking twice before we buy a coffee out, to spending a lot of money, all at once.

The obligatory gifts, the they-gave-us-this-last-year type of gifts, the thoughtful gifts, the token gifts and the gifts that need to be of a certain calibre kind-of-gifts. The role of ‘gift buyer’ seems to be more akin to the role of ‘navigator of our family’s relationships’ as we navigate wealth differences, draw distinctions between circles and think about others’ latest likes and interests.

As a fairly frugal family, it seems absurd to me that we have gone from conserving money and thinking twice before we buy a coffee out, to spending a lot of money, all at once. When money is tight, it’s only natural to think a bit more about what it is spent on. So, in the interest of understanding whether our gift giving has gotten out-of-hand, with sales projected to hit £84.9 billion this year in the UK, I’ve been digging into the origins of gift-giving at Christmas.

Somewhere amongst the Protestant Reformation, the popularity of the legend of Santa Claus, the Victorians’ shifting of Christmas from a rowdy, drinking culture to a wholesome family celebration and the gifting of Gold Frankincense and Myrrh at the birth of Jesus, we find our gift-giving tradition.

The legend of Santa Claus (otherwise known as St Nicholas) is the tale of a wealthy Bishop who lowered bags of gold down the chimney of a poor man who didn’t have the funds for dowries for his three daughters. 

It’s interesting to me that our gifting traditions have come a long way from their origins. The three wise men offered their gifts of Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh as an offering of their worship in recognition that a king had been born. The legend of Santa Claus (otherwise known as St Nicholas) is the tale of a wealthy Bishop who lowered bags of gold down the chimney of a poor man who didn’t have the funds for dowries for his three daughters. A religious man, doing an act of charity. Perhaps we could even call it an act of worship.

Our gift-giving tradition, which first came from extravagant worship, is now extravagantly commercialised.

Whilst some Christians might choose to reject Black Friday to preserve the purity of Christmastime, Christmas, to me, represents a sort of balancing act. It’s a balancing act between my desire to shop ethically alongside a very real financial need to source quick, affordable, though thoughtful, gifts this year. Further, for Christians, it’s a broader balancing act of celebrating Christmas - a day in history that changed everything for us - with those who are celebrating something different.

Is it possible to hold indulgence and gift-giving in tension with the heart of Jesus for a kingdom that promises fulfilment that you cannot buy, justice for the makers of our clothes, friendship for the pushed-out, and total peace from global conflicts?

I haven’t quite worked out what all this looks like yet, to give gifts in line with the heart of Jesus, but I wonder how we might hold it all in tension this Christmas: the joy of celebrating togetherness with our people and the wonder of our King; the enduring star that sits at the top of the Christmas tree with the transient gifts and empty spaces underneath; the lavish celebrations and gifts with so much suffering across the world. It’s a messy amalgamation of sacred and secular, feeling full and feeling empty, a treasured time and one that’s difficult for many of us.

It’s safe to say Jesus is not surprised by the hotchpotch nature of it all. It’s okay that Christmas is a mixture of things. The pattern of worship through the ages has been that we worship Jesus through our human traditions like stained-glass windows, Christmas carols and Christingles. Why not snowmen, Santa, and matching pyjamas? Perhaps the invitation is to find Jesus in it all.