Frankincense and Facebook

Facing sure failure as a father, I discovered the real power of social media. The promise of “social” just may have saved Christmas that year…

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My son’s annual wish-list and letter to Santa Claus is something of a simultaneous treat and terror in my home. There’s nothing more adorable than seeing him pour over his list, carefully guard it, and wait to reveal it to Santa (and therefore to his parents) during a dramatic debut at the annual Christmas party at our Church.  As he sits on Santa’s lap and whispers out the top item, my wife and I strain to listen because his words will determine the fate of our lives for the next few weeks.  Like all kids, he’s unique.  And his lists for Santa tend to be unique.  But one year I was indeed worried that Santa wouldn’t be able to deliver on the request.  It was the year the dialogue between Santa and my 6-year-old went something like this:

Santa:  “Ho, Ho Ho. Merry Christmas little boy! What would you like me to bring you for Christmas this year?

My Son: “Well, Santa, this year I am focusing on the original Christmas.  Please bring me some Frankincense. The real stuff, like they brought Baby Jesus. Thank you.”

My wife and I looked at each other, unsure if we’d heard correctly.  The volunteer Santa, bless his heart, looked over at each of us with a shrug. A few of our friends giggled, reassuringly patting us on the back with a “yeah, good luck with that.”  I was immediately caught in that conflict of wanting to give your kid anything you possibly could, but knowing you needed to teach him the difference between what was possible and just a dream.  But it was Christmas, and as long as the magic of that season still swarmed at full speed in his little heart, we knew we had to give it a try.

In a globalized world, and considering ourselves fairly “aware” when it comes to traditions and commodities of various cultures, you would think that a resin used in churches and for incense would not have been such a daunting task. But we didn’t have the first idea where to start our search. And even though we’d talked about frankincense our entire lives (reading the words in every Christmas pageant, every year for our lives, even sometimes carrying something in a canister playing the role of one of the wisemen), my wife and I knew next to nothing about it.

This was the year I met Facebook, and unwittingly put the promise of social media to the test. I posted about our little dilemma, as did my wife. What ensued was a 72-hour period of a global education. I hadn’t meant to crowdsource the problem, but simply talked about what was going on in my life as a father with a big Santa’s List problem on his hands. Almost immediately the simultaneous process of education and search went into motion. Friends from our years in the Foreign Service started posting about places we’d served where Frankincense was indigenous, and where we’d probably even smelled some of the best of it in churches. Friends from college sent us links to the background of frankincense so we could learn more about its use and history (and therefore speak with some authority when our son undoubtedly would start quizzing us about it on Christmas Day). Loved ones posted ideas on acceptable substitutions if we couldn’t find any, or how we could provide an “experience” by showing Adam where frankincense was used in the Washington, D.C. area rather than giving him some.

With a just few clicks and after a flood of what seemed like hundreds of posts, our world had been turned into a laboratory of learning about an ancient resin. I was overcome with emotion by how connected I felt to people who had been part of my past and my present, and who were now interacting with one another about a problem at hand. High school teachers, ex-girlfriends, work colleagues and former Ambassadors were collaborating on helping one of the gifts of the Magi reach a little house in Suburban Washington on Christmas morning.

We found Frankincense. After some research we decided on the best tactic, and (as happens with all good Christmas stories) it was actually my wonderful parents who went out to purchase the best variety, packaged in a kid-friendly way. Somehow it was fitting that my parents, who had strained to listen to so many of my Christmas lists over the years, were the ones to come through in the end for the kid (both me and my 6-year-old). They were, in essence, the proxies for the wise men for me that Christmas. But they weren’t delivering the gifts on the backs of camels as the traditional images of the First Christmas so often suggest. The wooden box, filled with “tears of Frankincense” from Yemen, imported via Turkey to a shop in LA, was in some ways delivered by a network of friends who were connected to each other in a community of friendship.

Our Frankincense Christmas reminded me that friendship is more than a “click.” It’s the most precious gift we give each other when we are part of a community and work together for a common cause. There’s a lot of frankincense now in my life.