"Your keys, Archie"

If you care to, I would love to have commentary from people on what I am about to write. Expose me for the fool that I am, or reassure me that there is some amount of truth to what I have held dear.

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The first story we studied in my freshman year in high school was O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi". You might remember it--Della sells her hair to buy a chain for Jim's cherished watch, whilst Jim quietly sells his watch to buy combs for Della's beautiful hair. They both find on that Christmas Day that their gift has been rendered useless because of the other's sacrifice.

What fools art they, giving so much of themselves that they are unable to receive in return. The combs and the chain are quietly tucked away in a corner...some tragic memento of wasted resources and flawed decision-making.

What if we were to look at the situation logically? They both chose to give beyond their economic means. This, by itself, is folly. Yet they each went one step further, giving up something of known value to themselves in order to acquire something they could only assume that the other would value equivalently. In doing so, they gave up a certain quantity for one that is unknown; forfeited some source of personal security in the pursuit of another's happiness.

This is a markedly different sort of giving from the economics-driven exchanges to which we have become accustomed. In a standard gift--even an altruistic one--you are giving away something of your own in exchange for something that presumably is of greater value. You could give away a few of your dollars for a candy bar, along with the satisfaction and convenience that comes with purchasing it at that moment. Or you could put your time and energy into cultivating another human being, in exchange for the affirmation that you have contributed something to the world, and the gratitude that your charity's recipient gives in return. A simple "thank you" suffices for many of us, in most cases; we know, by those simple words, that our actions have had the intended effect.

What are we to make, then, of Della and Jim's folly? Neither of them received the return that they were expecting. We could easily say that they each ended up in a worse-off state than they were in prior to the exchange; not only did they cede a cherished personal possession, not only did they find that their efforts amounted to naught...they each also had to deal with the guilt of knowing that things could have been so much better if only the other party had not been equivalently foolish! (insert game theory jokes here)

From the standpoint of what they desired for each other, this was a worst-case outcome. Della presumably wanted to surprise Jim with a gift of unexpected suitability. After all...the chain would affirm how well she understood him. To secure a gift as precious as this, she would not let a simple matter of finances get in her way. If it meant that she must give up something of her own in order to give that sort of love, then so be it. The same held true for Jim, as he likewise went forth in the trust that he would be giving something that could be cherished and celebrated.

We could speculate on the accuracy of their predictions. Della could have easily harped on Jim for his financial imprudence, and Jim on Della for forfeiting an asset that could have yielded her far greater long-term returns. What we can say for certain, though, is that in the process of giving to another, each of them made the decision to *devalue* something they held dear.

Again, folly! With no evidence whatsoever that the gifts they were financing would be more useful than what they already had (or if we must, a likelihood in the range of 20% or less), they went ahead and gave up certain quantities for uncertain ones. Had they done the analysis, they would never have fallen into this trap. They would realize that they were content the way that they were, and that they need not jeopardize themselves in order to make a silly gift to somebody else to celebrate some stupid holiday custom. By setting boundaries, they would probably have devised some alternative gifts that would not place financial strain on themselves...a well-written letter, perhaps, or a day spent together doing silly yet memorable things. Jim would still have his watch, Della would still have her hair, and both would have, in addition, some grand gift of shared experience or emotion in return. Perhaps it would have been possible to produce an equivalent chain, an equivalent set of combs at no financial cost. They would instead leverage other assets--friendships, information channels, opportunities and access to raw materials.

Yes, we must conclude that they were foolish, then, no? Like children, they pushed forth with their first impulses. They failed to properly assess the value of their assets. They overvalued anticipated rewards and undervalued present riches. They didn't set boundaries to ensure self-preservation. They didn't define constraints on themselves, and therefore missed out on a whole range of alternative courses of action. Instead, they simply saw the sacrifice that they would have to make, and in their pursuit of love for another, chose to bear the costs gladly.

In the end, what did each of them gain for their folly? The discovery that there was somebody in the world who loved in the same exact way, and who gladly shouldered the same sort of burdens in pursuit of their wellbeing. They could perhaps have discovered this in time through a chain of exchanges rather than a single one, but then we would have a thousand page story devoid of the drama and intensity packed into one far shorter, wouldn't we?

I cannot say whether the sort of love that Jim and Della displayed for each other is of a higher breed than the exchanges of love I see in the world. At most, I know only that it is rare, and that it breaks my heart when I witness it with my own eyes.

I want to dismiss it as immaturity. As actions that naive children commit for each other without realizing that better choices are available to those who put some thought into their giving. I want to say that it is done only in imitation of others who do and prescribe the same, without full realization of how detrimental and risky these acts of self-sacrifice actually are.

It makes me think back to why I am writing all this in the first place...not merely a literary analysis of an old short story, but in the hope that somehow, writing this helps me come to a better understanding of the cross and christmas, and how inseparable the two actually are. If he truly was the miracle worker we claim he was, then our carpenter friend's decision to die for us comes from one of three things. From that same youthful innocence that would infuse him with such passion and conviction, he would not realize that suicide is not going to be looked upon as an act of love in the manner he believes it will. Or, from some lengthy internal discourse, he overestimates the returns on his chosen course of action, such that he is blind to the many alternatives that a miracle-maker should theoretically be privy to.

Or there is the third...that he knew full well what the hell he was doing, that it would be misinterpreted and simplified throughout the ages, and that he is waiting for us at the place where our paths should next cross, where he will show us the full glory of the seeds he has sown.

I find it funny that the first time I heard the story of the gift was not in its true form, but in an Archie comic, where Betty and Archie play the same roles. In that version, however, they discover that a keeper knew of their decisions, and, as her gift to them, returned to them those very riches that they had sacrificed for the other. I wonder how this affects my own perceptions of gain and loss...riches on earth given away for riches in heaven and all that.