The Moral Meaning of A Christmas Carol

Merry Christmas! This is Building Catholic Culture’s first guest post, written by my son, Daniel, who is a sophomore in high school. He is an avid reader of Dickens and writes his own science fiction novels.

Everybody knows the story of A Christmas Carol. When we get to the later months of the year, we call to mind phrases like “Bah, humbug!” and “God bless us, every one.” And, of course, everyone who slacks off in their celebration is labeled a “Scrooge” in honor of the famous character. A Christmas Carol is a classic, time-tested Christmas story that has inserted itself into the way we think about the holiday season. It’s full of themes and emotions we heavily associate with the way Christ’s birth should be celebrated.

But how many of us who are familiar with the story have read the actual book? Even if some have, many others still have not. They know who Charles Dickens is, but, if asked, they wouldn’t be able to place A Christmas Carol within the wider context of his writings. Multiple people—myself included, at least for a little while—only know about the plot because of The Muppet Christmas Carol or other screen adaptations. While such reproductions can be worth watching, they might de-emphasize the deeper meaning found in the actual novel—written by Dickens in the mid-nineteenth century and containing numerous aspects that can be better understood by taking a closer look at the historical context and the moral messages conveyed. Charles Dickens was making a profound commentary on the way life should be lived, and it’s a commentary that can’t be completely understood by watching Kermit the Frog.

The novel—or short-story, rather—is split into five “staves,” something like a combination of a chapter and a poetic stanza. Each stave has its own message, that—while connected with the other sections—can also be considered on its own. The separate elements ultimately come together in the final stave, where Dickens clearly states and solidifies his overarching point.

The first section introduces us to Scrooge, the grumpy Christmas-hater we’re all familiar with. But he is meant to portray more than just an ill-tempered miser—the successful, business-obsessed man is a type of character Dickens wasn’t using for the first time. In only his third book, Nicholas Nickleby, the antagonist Ralph Nickleby is a wealthy but vicious businessman who continually plots the destruction of the heroes. And again, in Dombey and Son, the character of Paul Dombey is an enormously successful—and enormously prideful—firm owner who’s incapable of caring about the livelihood of anyone but himself. Scrooge follows in the footsteps of these people, obsessed with his business, wealthy but unwilling to do good with his success.

But overshadowing these flaws is a greater, more fundamental one: Scrooge lives totally within himself. His entire life revolves around his business, money, and success, and he cares nothing for the lives of other people—particularly the lower classes. His disdain for the poor wasn’t uncommon in the London that Dickens lived in: the city was overflowing with poor and destitute people, and many higher-class citizens shared Scrooge’s view that “if they would rather die . . . they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.” In fact, Thomas Malthus, an observer of this swollen community, came up with the idea that the weakest in overabundant populations are killed off, which Charles Darwin took and turned into his idea of “survival of the fittest,” which in turn gave rise to Social Darwinism. But Dickens very firmly rejected this anti-humanist anthropology—as can be seen in countless of his novels—and in giving Scrooge this ideology, he prepares to launch a critique against the common thinking of his day.

And launch it he does. With the appearance of Marley’s ghost, bearing the chains of his own making, he makes a firm point about how this disdain and self-absorption, manifest in Scrooge, results. When, upon realizing the source of the chains, Scrooge protests that Marley was “always a good man of business,” Marley responds, “Business! . . . The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business.” These were the things that he neglected in life, and now he suffers because of it. And when Scrooge sees a multitude of ghosts like Marley floating through the night, he notices that “the misery with them all was . . . that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power forever.” Their rejection of the lower classes—the “surplus population” that was flooding the streets of London at the time—results in them being tormented forever.

But Scrooge isn’t convinced yet, and Dickens uses his skepticism to elaborate on the message he has already laid the foundation for. The second stave brings with it the “Ghost of Christmas Past,” meant to represent Scrooge’s memory of Christmas. The scenes it shows to Scrooge are exclusively of his own past—unlike the next two ghosts, which show him the presents and the futures of other people. The successive selections from Scrooge’s life construct a narrative that shows how Scrooge progressively drew within himself. At first, he’s merely reserved—continuing to study amidst Christmas break—but still taking part in the celebration of the season—participating in Fezziwig’s party.

But eventually—in the words of Scrooge’s rejected lover—”your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until only the master passion, Gain, engrosses you.” Over time, he rejects everything not within his tunnel-vision of success, until he closes off all else—including the memories he is being shown. He begs the spirit to “show me no more!” and finally ends the series of visions by attacking and subduing him.

But before Scrooge knows it, the second spirit, the “Ghost of Christmas Present” has arrived. This apparition represents the celebration of Christmas, the way it brings alleviation and joy to all people—particularly people living amid hardship. While the ghost shows Scrooge the various ways in which Christmas is celebrated, it recalls to Scrooge how he previously showed his disdain for these people. In this, Dickens presents how Christmas does the opposite of Scrooge’s way of thought—instead of rejecting them, it comforts them, gives them respite, and allows them to forget, even for a brief time, the hardships that surround them.

It is in these visions that Scrooge’s transformation takes place. He comes out of his disconnected, selfish mindset when he sees the very real pain and suffering of the people around him. It was as if before he refused to recognize their hardship, but now that he sees it, he can’t help but sympathize. And, of course, through his journey with the spirit, he witnesses how Christmas combats—and seeks to bring the people out of—their destitution.

But while evoking sympathy for the downcast is a laudable message, it isn’t the one that Dickens makes—not completely, at least. There is still one ghost left. The “Ghost of Christmas Future” comes in sharp contrast to the previous two; instead of representing memory or celebration, it portrays the inevitable presence of death in Scrooge’s—and everyone’s—future. The spirit shows him his death as well as that of Tiny Tim’s, the kind-hearted son of Scrooge’s secretary. The ghost seems to emphasize the contrasting reactions to their deaths: for Scrooge, it is a sense of relief or even joy, but for Tiny Tim it is a sense of deep loss and fond memory.

Scrooge seems to recognize this, and—before he even knows that he is the disdained man—he tells the ghost, “if  there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man’s death . . . show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!” He can see that this person—himself—has died without having done anything good and meaningful in his life, and everything he sought after has come to nothing. But Tiny Tim—who had nothing, gained nothing, and had no material success—has left a memory of goodness and virtue that his family will and never forget. And when Scrooge realizes that he is the one who has died, he conclusively comes to the realization that the self-absorbed life he led before was completely fruitless and meaningless.

But he also realizes what he must do now. When he awakes on Christmas day, he brings his new knowledge into fruition and amends his life, giving all the help he can to Tiny Tim and his family. Unlike before, when he could see nothing but himself, he now declares that he “will live in the past, the present, and the future!” He has his life in perspective: he knows that he will die and that it’s up to him to do the best he can with the time remaining to him. No longer does he look down on the poor and needy because he sees that they are real people struggling against real hardship, not the decaying liabilities he considered them to be.

The story is concluded, and Dickens has made his message. But looking back, the story actually doesn’t seem that realistic. Aside from the visions and ghosts, Scrooge started out as one character, but, over the course of a single night, has become a completely separate one. Neither of the Scrooge-like characters in Dickens’ other novels underwent this transformation: Nickleby was defeated and Dombey’s conversion was a gradual, laborious process. Scrooge’s contrasting flip-flop of personality seems highly unrealistic.

But the intention of A Christmas Carol isn’t to provide a deep insight into human nature—as some Dickens novels are. Instead, it is meant to give us a story that shows how our lives should be lived, rejecting selfish mindsets and living with the constant knowledge that we must do the best we can with the time we have. And, further—even though it uses Christmas to show the importance of charity and generosity—the intention also isn’t to say that everyone who doesn’t like Christmas is a terrible person. The message of the story isn’t about Christmas: it’s about living well and rejecting inward focus, as well as pointing out the destructive nature of anti-humanism and materialism.

A Christmas Carol is a moral story, one that contains deeply valuable messages that we can apply to our own lives. In addition to encouraging outward focus, it emphasizes the inevitable presence of death—not as a grim warning, but as an incentive to carry out our lives in a way that will allow us to die well. In weaving these profound elements into a simple Christmas story, Dickens proves that he deserves his position as one of history’s greatest novelists—and gives us a reason to actually read his classic seasonal narrative.