Imagine if Ebenezer Scrooge, memorable misanthrope from
A Christmas Carol, had stayed in bed scrolling through Instagram or X like the rest of us, instead of being dragged by ghosts outside his content bubble.
@humbug might’ve blocked any posts from his nephew’s joyous Christmas party and unsubscribed from Tiny Tim’s GoFundMe campaign. Scrooge could have laid in comfort in his nightgown, smashing the like button on a bunch of eviction videos.
Scrooge was where he “wanted” to be. Living his best life: sitting at his desk, running through the ledger, counting and recounting his money.
But is this really what he
wanted?
Ebenezer’s story unfolds in a series of hurts: he was unloved by his father and left at boarding school over the Christmas holidays. His fiancée, Belle, also left him, saying he loved money more than he loved her. The way he was hurt in relationships was inseparable from the way he tried to protect his money. All those years of isolation and nonstop grumpin’ had hardened his habits.
Scrooge was good at making money, but he sucked at spending it. His problem was not financial literacy. In the absence of genuine human affection or interest, he had withered. Closed up shop emotionally.
I always imagined myself more akin to the hard-working Bob Cratchit or the loyal nephew, Fred. But maybe what thrills me about
A Christmas Carol is imagining how I might feel to be as liberated as Scrooge at the end. Barely dressed, he dashes into the street with a goodwill and generosity he can't contain anymore.
Sometimes when I’m asked for money by people living on the streets of New York City, I feel flustered and struggle to think straight. Is this person actually unhoused? Does it matter? What will they do with it?
Oh leave me be, ghosts of my conscience!I hate the feeling of being unsure how to spend my money, whether it’s deciding whether to give two dollars to someone on the subway or what kind of car to buy. But maybe we shouldn’t push away the discomfort. We get set in our ways and forget we have choices. Sometimes we want to forget we have choices.
Scrooge changed his spending because he discovered something more loving and free-flowing in himself. (And not by staring at his money.) The ghosts that haunted him are a reminder that sometimes the messages of change can be inconvenient, disorienting, and uncomfortable. Can we be open to where they bring us?
Tragically, Ebenezer never had the chance to subscribe to a twice-monthly newsletter like
Loose Change. After this week, you won’t receive
Loose Change either unless you 👉
subscribe. Do it for Tiny Tim!
