My Dear Ebenezer
A fictional exploration with a non-Dickensian moral
Postscript from Fred:
My dear sweet uncle Ebenezer Scrooge. What a wonder it has been this evening to have your company in my home, on Christmas day no less. Yesterday you were a miser who would not so much as part with a penny to feed poor orphan children, nor spare a lump of coal for poor Bob Crachet. Yet it did not take you three days like our Blessed Lord to be reborn. In just one night it would appear a miraculous change has come upon you, Uncle.
And now the feast has died and we have retired to the smoke room, you have regaled me with a rather unexpected and wondrous tale. You say you were visited by four ghosts in the night.
The first Jacob Marley, who came in the most frightening visage, adorned with the miserable chains forged from the sins of his life. Poor wretched Marley did what he could to warn you of what awaited you in the afterlife; that the chains of your sin were far worse than his.
And, so you have told me, Marley forewarned you of three ghosts that were to visit you in the night.
Had I not seen the change in you this day Uncle I may have had reason to doubt this tale. Yet to see you part with money is a wonder I cannot ignore, and had not thought possible, though I had prayed every night for such a thing.
You told me of the Ghost of Christmas Past, who showed you how you used to be. There you saw yourself as a child, learning your trade, alone even at Christmas. And again, much later, saying goodbye to your dearest beloved, because you could not see the love which stood right before your very eyes, and were blinded by the promise of money and power.
You've told me earnestly how such a loss blackened your heart, Uncle. And what pain reliving such memories caused you.
And then came upon you the Ghost of Christmas present. And with the ghost's assistance you were shown the humble dwelling, much like our Lord’s in His Nativity, of Poor Bob Crachet who, though poor, had in abundance the milk of human kindness; his doting wife, his loving children. And yes, adorable Tiny Tim.
You saw Uncle that this family, who had every reason to wish you poor health, still took the time to wish you a Merry Christmas. They showed you how poor in spirit you really were, Uncle.
And finally, in whispers to be sure none but I should hear, you have told me about your encounter with The Ghost of Christmas Future.
And what did you see? A future where all you possessed was sold off, with not a soul to think kindly of you. 'Thank you very much' all would say, for dying was the kindest thing you had ever done for them, because by your demise many were released by the chains of debt which bound them miserably.
And this, you tell me, Uncle, is what caused your miraculous change. Through these four ghosts you became a new man even in your old age. You say you have seen the error of your ways. And I would believe it for the size of the turkey you gave to Bob Crachet and his family, and the toys you brought the children, and how you yelled 'Merry Christmas!' to all who would hear and nay not a 'Humbug!' was whispered by your frost-bitten lips this Christmas Day.
But, my dear, Ebenezer. I am afraid you have learned nothing. Four ghosts could not teach you all that needed to be known in a single night. They did what they could, Uncle, but yet you do not understand the true meaning of Christmas.
It is okay, Uncle. I am proud of you, and I know you wish to be a better man. But giving money to the poor, buying the fattest turkey, giving Bob Crachet his much overdue raise. This is not the meaning of Christmas.
You wept for the woman who in your youth's blackened heart could no longer be yours. You held that grief until your old age. And that grief you have turned to motivation to open your heart to others. This is commendable, Uncle. But it is not enough.
The Ghost of Christmas Future showed you the culmination of your life. A tombstone. Cheers of your demise. Poor Tiny Tim's greatly shortened days because the medicine needed for his ailments was too expensive.
You have been generous, Uncle. So very, very generous. But you do not have true charity. Your heart is still as black as it was yesterday, because you are and have always been concerned most of all with money, and the opinions of others.
Instead of hoarding wealth you see fit to give it away, seeing still the use of money to buy what you most crave. Respect. Love. Attention. Things before you thought beneath you, yet now you are drunk on the milk of human kindness.
But I say, Uncle you are mistaken, and a fool. Because true Charity is the love of God. And I see no such thing in you. You wish for a well attended tombstone, and the long life of Tiny Tim on this Earth, yet think little of your soul or his in eternity.
Christmas, my dear Ebenezer Scrooge is not friends, it is not family, it is not presents, gifts, or any material thing of this world.
Christmas is the Nativity of Our Lord. The beginning of True Hope for mankind. A God made Man; both fully God and fully Man, Who for love of us all died upon the Cross.
You have said 'Humbug!' Uncle and you have said 'Merry Christmas!' but you have not said a prayer of gratitude for the change you think has taken place in your heart.
So I implore you, Uncle. If your heart has truly changed. If you truly wish to be a new man. Say no more of a false meaning of 'Merry Christmas,' be alone for a while, as you were, and pray to understand that true joy is not from the milk of human kindness; but the possession of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
There is no gift, Uncle, which you can offer me that is as valuable as that which I receive from Our Lord in prayer.
So, my dear Ebenezer, if your heart would truly be reborn. Come and pray with me, so that you may learn the true meaning of "Merry Christmas."
