My parish hosts a "Giving Tree" every Advent. Many parishes and organizations do some version of the giving the tree, possibly with a different name.
Ours is a Christmas tree with paper ornaments. Each ornament has a Christmas gift request written on it; for instance, it may say, "Women, 25, size 8" or "Boy, 9, toy" etc.
Simple. Purchase an item that fulfills the request for a family in need and return it to the parish in time for distribution.
This past weekend, when my family and I arrived at the 12:30 Mass (we tried really hard to make the 10:30 AM, but it just wasn't happening!), the vestibule of the church was crammed with packages! It felt great to be part of a community that is living the Year of Mercy.
At the end of Mass, an announcement was made, asking if we, the parishioners-who-woke-up-late-and-had-to-attend-the-afternoon-Mass, would mind carrying some of the gifts to the church basement for sorting.
I looked at my children, ages 13 and 16, and said, "Let's go help!" My wife and I headed in the direction of the gifts.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed they had not moved. They stood frozen in shocked silence. Their faces dismay with the prospected of physical labor. Their entire body language shouting, "You want ME to do what?"
Mind you, my kids do their fare share of work for others. My son is a Boy Scout and is usually quick to lend a hand to anyone in need (except me, for some reason). My daughter is involved with several clubs service minded clubs at school; and she has a part-time job, as she is learning the value of earning her own keep. Point being, both have proven themselves capable of the task at hand.
I was surprised by their resistance. "We have to go," my daughter said, implying that we were much too busy for this spontaneous act of kindness.
I pictured Jesus standing with the sheep on one side, and the goats on the other. I pictured Him asking, "When I was hungry, did you give food? When I was thirsty, did you give me drink? - When I asked for help of any kind, did you?
| Matthew 25:34-40 |
As their father, I knew it was my duty to show them, not just tell them, the right thing to do. Much as my father had done for me many years ago.
When I was in 8th grade, I was lucky enough to receive a Commodore 64 computer for Christmas (that's right kids, a computer that had a grand total of 64K memory! And, we were happy to have it!).
My father and I went to pick-up a desk for the computer at a big-box store. Nothing fancy. One of those put-together-yourself pieces of furniture. I couldn't wait for us to get home and assemble it!
Once outside the store, with the desk's boxes balanced precariously on a shopping cart, a woman and her two daughters approached us. Her car broke down in the parking lot and she had no way of getting in touch with her husband. Back in the mid-1980s, cell phones were barely a thought, let alone an item the average person had.
After chatting for a short while my father offered to give her and her children a ride to their home. "What is happening here?" I thought, "We have to go!"
Yes, we have to go take care of MY business right now. We have plans that are far to important than driving a full 15 minutes out of our way to drive these people we don't know!
Much to my dismay, and stunned, silence protest, we helped the woman and her children get home that evening.
After dropping them off, my father explained to me that even though we go to Mass on Sundays, there is much more to being a Christian. Helping others, he taught me, is as important as getting to church.
It's a lesson than I never forgot. In fact, more than 30 years later, I'm reminded of it every time I sit at that desk, which I still own! It's become a symbol for me that we are called to serve others. That sometimes we need to decrease, so there is room for Christ to increase in us.
So, when my own children looked at me the way I looked at my father that night, many years ago, I knew the correct and best response was to simply say, "This is the right thing to do, right now."
I'm not sure if they will remember. I'm not sure if I will make as much an impression on them as my father made on me. All I can do is HOPE!

