A Christmas Message from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol

An end-of-year post inspired by one of the great Christmas classics.

Last year I saw a social media post by friend and author Josh Eyler on his tradition of reading Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol every year and I immediately thought: I want to do that! So last year I listened to an audio version of this classic, read by Patrick Stewart, which repays a lifetime of listens. As it happens, that year my wife and I were invited to a dress rehearsal of a production of the story at our local theatre, which meant that I got a double dose of Dickens that year.

The whole experience inspired me enough that I decided to repeat it this year, both with Stewart’s recording and the theatrical production. But wait, there’s more! I have a reading group with two of my brothers, and we decided to make A Christmas Carol the focus of our discussion this December. We were all a little bit apprehensive about whether we would find enough to discuss in this little inspirational classic, as we try to focus on works that have philosophical leanings of some sort, but our conversation was rich and interesting. Probably not surprising—it’s Charles Dickens, after all.

Over the course of the last year, in other words, I have engaged with A Christmas Carol on five separate occasions—two listens, two plays, and one discussion. What perhaps best reflects the story’s enduring appeal, in addition to its well-timed message, is the fact that with each encounter I have unearthed some new bit of wisdom from the text. In this very brief Christmas post, I conclude my writing year with the particular insight that emerged from my final go-around with the text.

During his sojourn with the Ghost of Christmas Past, Scrooge witnesses a scene from the counting house where he worked as a young man. In contrast to Scrooge, the proprietor, Fezziwig, happily shuts down the office early on Christmas Eve and brings out food and drink, clears the floor for dancing, and makes a Christmas toast to all of his employees and gathered family members.

Scrooge has been transported during the scene, remembering and rejoicing in his old self. As it winds down, he remembers that he attends now only as an outside observer, trapped in another kind of life. The Ghost forces Scrooge to listen to some of the office workers praising Fezziwig for the party. Seems like a lot of gratitude for a silly Christmas party, the Ghost says. Exasperated, Scrooge responds:

It isn’t that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count ’em up: what then? The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.

When I was a young faculty member, I would sometimes see more experienced teachers heading to class with a box of donuts at the end of the semester, or a bucket of candy for an exam day, and I would scorn at them inwardly. They’re just pandering to the students to get better course ratings, I would think. I will earn my stripes as a professor by putting my time and energy into developing intellectually engaging courses, not by feeding students sugar or playing funny videos in class or letting them out a few minutes early on a Friday afternoon.

Time, and life experience, have taught me the wisdom of Fezziwig. We should ask students to work hard before class, in class, and after class; learning demands it. But in the precious time that we have together with them, we can embrace the opportunities to add some pleasure to the toil. Of course, there are always reasons not to hand out candy before an exam: not all students like candy, there might be allergies, the school doesn’t pay me enough, etc. None of these obstacles are insurmountable with a little forethought or sacrifice.

We always have a choice between rendering the service of others, in life and in the classroom, light or burdensome.

Bring the donuts.

Merry Christmas.