Offering Our Gifts (Epiphany.C)

Our assistant pastor is Italian.  Very Italian—I have the parmesan cheese bills to prove it.

Father Giovanni delighted the congregation Christmas Eve with his beautiful rendition of “Tu scendi dalle stelle,” a carol as dear to Italians as Silent Night is elsewhere in the world.

But I didn’t catch him humming or singing it in the house. What I did hear as he moved about the rectory was “pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.”

On one hand, “The Little Drummer Boy” is no match for “Tu scendi dalle stelle.” For one thing, the Italian carol was written by St. Alphonsus Liguori in 1732, while the popular American song was written in 1941by Katherine Kennicott Davis, a music teacher and classical composer.

On the other hand, there’s a depth of meaning in “The Little Drummer Boy” that helps to explain why it was first recorded by the Trapp Family Singers, famous from The Sound of Music and committed to sharing Christian values in song.

The story of that little boy with his drum lights up one of the many aspects of today’s great feast of the Epiphany. Certainly the Epiphany is a gem that sparkles from many different angles, including the revealing of Christ to all nations, the Magi’s gifts that symbolize a priest, a prophet and a king, and the star that shines in the world’s darkness. But in this morning’s Gospel we also find the call, the invitation, to imitate the Wise Men in bringing gifts to Christ our Lord.

We might have some trouble imagining how first-century astronomers toting gold, frankincense and myrrh can inspire and challenge us. But the little drummer boy has the answer: we give what we have. We bring to God what he has already given us.

If he has given us musical talent, we can imitate the drummer literally. If he has given us material prosperity, we can offer God our financial treasure, as one of the Kings did at Bethlehem.

But those are just the obvious gifts. The most tone-deaf Christian, the poorest Christian, has gifts fit for a King. We talk often, of course, of time, talent and treasure. This starts to sound like a slogan, yet “time, talent and treasure” represents precious gifts that everyone can offer to God in homage.

Nowadays, there’s no question what’s most precious to most of us: time. Let’s not forget that the Magi had offered their time before they presented their symbolic gifts. St. Matthew says the wise men came from the East, not the neighborhood. T.S. Eliot was on the mark when he emphasized the difficulty of the trip in his poem “The Journey of the Magi.” It begins “A cold coming we had of it/Just the worst time of the year/For a journey.”

We offer Christ our precious time whenever we pray. We pay homage to him whenever we spend time with the poor, the lonely, the sick, or the inconvenient. We adore him when we find time to come early to Mass, or serve at Mass, or set up for Mass, as our sacristans do each and every day. We kneel down before the mystery of Christ when we spend time patiently teaching children the faith, either as parents, grandparents or volunteer catechists.

Like the drummer boy, we offer back to God whatever talent he has given us. Music may be the most obvious talent, but this parish community is able to worship well also because of those who decorate the House of God, inside and out, and who offer gifts of counsel and administration through service on the parish pastoral council and the finance council.

And during the month of January, we will be asking more parishioners to take on leadership roles in the parish as we review various ministries and rotate and renew our dedicated volunteer base.

Treasure may come last in our list for a reason—it can be the least difficult gift to give. However, gold is first on St. Matthew’s list—perhaps because it was the gift most fit for a king. And if gold is what we have, gold is what we can give. Great good is done by your financial generosity to the Church, to charitable works, and even to individuals you know to be in need.

Time, talent and treasure is a fine way of thinking about what we can offer God in the year ahead—to adore him, thank him, and honour him. As I’ve said, no-one lacks some gift we can lay before Jesus in homage.

But that’s not the whole story. There’s something more and something greater—two things, in fact, that are well beyond time, talent and treasure.

The first thing we can offer God is ourselves. By choosing firmly the path of sacrifice and discipleship we literally give him all we have. By offering God the daily joys and sorrows of family life, of our work, of our health, of our anxieties, we recognize him as King of our lives and the Lord of our world.

The second thing we can offer God is himself. This is the most precious offering of all. The gifts we lay before the altar are as nothing compared to the gift that’s on the altar: Christ himself, offered in the Eucharist to the Father.

The Offertory prayer at Mass today sums up this truth. We will ask God to accept the gifts of his Church, in which are offered “not gold or frankincense or myrrh, but he who by them is proclaimed, sacrificed and received, Jesus Christ.”