Somewhere in Africa, there's a goat with an unsuspecting Kenyan family's name on it. I adopted the valuable animal for them after coming across the idea in a holiday catalog from the non-profit group Heifer International. But the gift wasn't only for the Kenyan family; it was also for my own.

When I told my kids–8, 5 and 5–that one of their coveted Hanukkah presents would be rerouted to a needier family, they were confused at first, then entranced. My son was eager to plot Kenya on a globe, while my twin daughters schemed ways of sending comfy animal beds overseas. It inspired more discussion than a typical holiday gift, even one that doubles as a cell phone, giggles when shaken or can safely bake small cakes. I just hope Heifer tapes a gift receipt to the goat's belly in case the family wants to trade up for a llama.

Offering gifts to less fortunate strangers feels right, but it's still pretty rare. Holiday compassion—which most of us value but seldom practice—is the opposite of holiday commercialism, which most of us practice, but don’t really value. Growing up Jewish, I've never really connected holiday compassion to Hanukkah. The Festival of Lights focuses on the story of Jews who, for lack of a corner convenience store in ancient Jerusalem, ran perilously low on olive oil, yet managed to make it last eight nights. It's more about spirituality than selflessness. (I routinely have the same miraculous experience with my toothpaste, but I keep that to myself.)

In my contemporary extended family, we try to respect everyone's cultural leanings. My kids and I light a menorah, but also exchange gifts on Christmas morning. We spin dreidels, but also gawk at elaborate decorations on neighboring houses. We focus a little too much on presents, but also… focus a little too much on presents. Still, connecting the holiday to acts of selfless generosity, like gifting a goat, creates no messy religious inconsistencies, unless the said goat is also a Scientologist.

"The thing about giving a goat—or a llama, or a cow—for the holidays is that it restores the balance between giving and getting," Ray White, public information director at Heifer International, told me. "It really honors the spirit of the season as a time to think of others and to reach out to those who are less fortunate." And is it any coincidence that "needier" is only one R away from being re-spelled as "reindeer"? Okay, maybe it is.

Our new Kenyan friends don't need to be thinking of me and my kids when their gift arrives, though they can pay it forward. In fact, recipients traditionally "pass on" their animals' offspring to others in their community. Not only can't you do that with an Xbox, but it isn't even considered re-gifting!

My main hope is that, through our gift, the Kenyan family realizes there are parts of the better-developed world where, come holiday time, caring families will still go out and practice compassion alongside religion and frenzied holiday shopping.

And as long as those people are out, they might as well pick up some extra olive oil.

Sacramento is home to Heifer's Northwest Regional Office, making it easy to help fight hunger:
2220 J. St., Suite 8
Sacramento, CA 95816
Toll Free Phone: 877-663-1682
nw@heifer.org