But I mentioned Truth just now, and maybe I'll focus on that first.
In the Sanskrit word 'r̥ta' and the Avestan words 'aṣ̌a' and 'arəta' we have an Indo-European term (*h1ertus) meaning something like "well-made-ness" that has a few cognates in other Indo-European languages: Latin artus "joint'; Greek αρτύς "arranging, arrangement"; Middle High German art "innate feature, nature, fashion"; Armenian ard "ornament, shape" to name a few. In the Indo-Iranian languages, the meaning of this word has been elevated to a term for universal truth. Looking at the word's etymology, I think that the underlying concept is something along the lines of "the well-fashioned nature of existence." The case has been made by others that this is a concept of Proto-Indo-European religion; regardless of whether their word for this concept was *h1ertus, a related term, or something else entirely, I think that the idea is ancient.
Our own mythology gives us the image of Being as a woven cloth, and we give one name to the web and the weaver. (Interesting: the image of weaving is also used in Indo-European poetic traditions for the fashioning of poetry, as are the images of building a ship or a chariot, and r̥ta and aṣ̌a may have originally been terms of the chariot-makers' craft.)
The gist is this: Being is well-crafted, wondrously made, and strong. The word 'truth' itself is related to words meaning "strength"; to be true is to be strong, well-founded on the strength of Being. In finding truth, then, we seek the patterns of Being, the ways in which it is woven. It is no accident either that the same root that gives us 'truth' also gives us 'tree', another image in our myths for Being: wondrously complex, beautiful in its form, and strong. Yggdrasill shakes at Ragnarǫk, but does not fall.
So, the structure of Being is Truth, and in discovering the patterns of existence we learn about what it means to be. The gods are not outside of that structure, or those patterns. They dwell within it, are more aware of the patterns than we, but they are here with us. The whole is, to us, a mystery, and can only be glimpsed, felt; but some things may be known for certain, and upon those truths that we know we may build the right way of being for ourselves, within and resembling the whole as a branch is part of and resembles the whole of the tree.
The gods, being wise teachers, teach us patterns of Being that are good for us to know. One of these patterns is related in a story in which Wóden told Gárman:
"My religion is gift-giving."
Now, doubt springs easily forth in the modern mind, but taking Gárman's own words to mind that 'belief' in a Germanic context is more properly thought of as 'allowing as how,' let us simply 'allow as how' the story could be true, and give more attention to the wisdom within it.
"My religion is gift-giving" said the god. And this particular god has spoken of gifts before:
Vápnom ok váðom· skulo vinir gleðjask
þærs er á sjálfom sýnst
endrgefendr ok viðrgefendr· erosk lengst vinir
ef þat bíðr at verða vel.
"With weapons and clothes should friends gladden each other, those that are most beautiful in themselves; a giver-again and a giver-in-return are friends longest, if that abides to happen well."
Vin sínom· skal maðr vinr vera
ok gjalda gjǫf við gjǫf
hlátr við hlátri· skyli hǫlðar taka
en lausung við lygi.
"A man should be a friend to his friend and yield a gift for a gift; men should take laughter for laughter, but lying for lies."
It seems, then, that the proper relationship between men and gods is one of gift-giving: they give to us, we give to them in thanks and in hope of further gifts, but primarily to maintain this freely-giving, open-handed and open-hearted relationship of reciprocity with them.
But the relationship with the gods is not the only relationship we should hope to maintain: there is also our relationship with our families, the living and the dead amongst them; for us Théodish, and certainly for others, there is the relationship to one's fellows; there is the relationship to other friends; there is the relationship to the lands in which we live, to the seen and the unseen dwellers in the land with us. All of these are important, and all, I think, rightly call upon us to give gifts.
For reciprocity is the acknowledgement of a connection. It is through the pattern of reciprocity that we are connected to the larger pattern of patterns, to the great weaving, to the strong Truth of well-fashioned Being.