consumerism – Tony Lusvardi, S.J.

Epiphany homily: recapturing the logic of the gift

The Three Kings, from a Mexican Nativity displayed inside the Vatican, 2025

Homily for the Solemnity of the Epiphany.

Today’s feast, the Epiphany, traditionally was the day for gift-giving in Italy, though that tradition has been somewhat superseded by the arrival of a more aggressive salesman, Santa Claus. Santa accepts both Visa and Mastercard—and, in some places, American Express—whereas the Magi bartered or traded in old-fashioned gold.

The Magi are still, however, known for their gifts. Matthew’s Gospel does not give a precise number of Magi, but since it lists three gifts, the Christian artistic tradition has always depicted three Magi—or kings or wise men, depending on how you translate the word for these learned, wealthy, and adventuresome visitors. Their gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh—struck a chord in the Christian imagination, even if most of us would have trouble explaining what exactly you do with myrrh.

Ancient spiritual writers attributed symbolic meaning to their gifts: gold symbolized Christ’s kingship; frankincense—a type of incense used in worship—symbolized his divinity; and myrrh—myrrh again, gave them a little trouble. Some associated myrrh with virtue or with prayer. Myrrh is actually very similar to frankincense; both come from the resin—the sap—of desert trees, which makes them rare and valuable. Both give off distinct smells when burnt. Frankincense is sweeter, while myrrh gives off bitter notes sometimes described as earthy or somber. In the ancient near east, myrrh was used to prepare bodies for burial, so the presence of myrrh at Christ’s birth is sometimes interpreted as foreshadowing his passion and death. Perhaps that explains why myrrh is no longer popular as a Christmas gift today.

But more than the specific gifts of the Magi, this morning I would like to reflect on what a gift is to begin with. Today our idea of gift-giving is so shaped by Santa Claus—and by Amazon and Black Friday—that we sometimes lose the sense of what a gift meant in the time of Jesus. And when we lose our grasp of the logic of gift-giving and gift-receiving, we start to have trouble understanding not only today’s feast of the Epiphany, but other parts of our faith as well, like marriage and the Eucharist. Even our own existence in this world, which we did not create ourselves and did nothing to earn, becomes difficult to understand.

Caveat emptor! Investing in the Kingdom of Heaven: Homily for the 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the twenty-fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time (C).

Detail of the statue of St. Matthew (St. John Lateran)

In 1920, Charles Ponzi devised a scheme to buy international postal coupons in Europe and sell them for a profit in the United States. So many people invested in Ponzi’s plan that he couldn’t keep up with demand, so he used the money from new investors to pay off old investors, which worked as long as there were more new investors. And, then, when there weren’t, the whole scheme went kaput. For a while, Mr. Ponzi made a lot of money using a financial trick without actually producing anything real. Today similar scams are known as “Ponzi schemes.”

The parable of the dishonest steward, which Jesus tells in the Gospel, is rather like a first century Ponzi scheme. The steward, learning that he is about to be fired, retires debts to his master at a steep discount. Doing so doesn’t cost him anything but comes at his master’s expense. His master’s debtors will now owe him for their savings, so he’ll have many grateful new friends when he becomes unemployed. What is surprising about the parable is that the master does not condemn his conniving steward but seems to think his trick is rather clever.

The explanation Jesus gives of the parable also surprises us because you’d expect the Lord to condemn obvious fraudulent behavior. But, instead, Jesus uses the story to make a different—very ironic—point. Jesus’ point is that people—like the steward—put so much cleverness and effort into making money that when it comes to what really matters—their relationship with God—they’re rather careless. So, he says, “Go ahead, make friends with dishonest wealth. Invest in the Ponzi scheme. Then, when it fails, and you see how clever you really were, maybe, then, you’ll start thinking about your eternal dwelling.” After all, if the steward had worked half as hard for his master as he did to save his own skin, he wouldn’t have been fired to begin with.

How all our holidays became Black Friday

I’m happy to have another piece appear in Plough, the wonderful magazine published by the Bruderhof community. I’ve had a few essays in Plough before, about travel and nature and spirituality. This time I’m writing about Black Friday. Last year, I blogged here about what a great holiday Thanksgiving is — expressing what is best in the American character. Black Friday, on the other hand, expresses just about what’s worst — and yet it’s the holiday that has been exported around the globe. Here’s the essay: What Religion Is Black Friday?

The essay begins, however, not with Black Friday itself, but by reflecting on the odd experience of arriving in Singapore on the day after Christmas a couple of years ago as I was on my way to Australia. The modern city-state was a delight to visit and my brief stop-over gave me plenty to think about. So check out the essay at Plough, and enjoy some pictures of the Singaporean sites mentioned here below.