The custom of giving gifts for Hanukkah appears to be a relatively recent development (relative, that is, in regard to a faith over three thousand years old). Apparently the commercial impulse arose from a desire to keep up with goyishe Joneses, so to speak, who receive a lavish amount of gifts from Santa (provided they haven’t been naughty).
I hope to receive the greatest gift of all tonight, time with family. That, plus delicious fried potato pancakes, or latkes, which sink to the pit of your stomach and stay there until the moon finishes its predictable cycle. The Gregorian’s may have had monks with memorable chants, but we Jews got the heavy, unhealthy food. Happy Chanukah, er, Hanukkah. Like most developments over the past two thousand years, we seem to always get the shorter end of the stick. Oh well, make sure a bottle of Maalox is handy and you'll be fine.