Ebenezer and Tiny Tim

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I was watching A Christmas Carol with Patrick Stewart last night. It might be my favorite true-to-the-original version of the story. It was a bit like watching Shakespeare rather than Dickens. At this point, I know most of the dialogue in A Christmas Carol movie, even the ones I've never seen. Although, I had just watched a bizarre Christmas movie based on a story by Truman Capote so that might have made a difference. By bizarre I mean that there was a scene in which a little old lady, a very young boy and a tiny dog got drunk on whiskey which was probably homemade (that's called "moonshine" right?). The drunk dog was shown fast alseep flat on his back which was funny, but totally wrong. The whiskey by the way was from a man named HaHa Jones for use in their 30 fruit cakes. They were just tasting the leftover liquor. In case you are wondering, its called A Christmas Memory.

But this year, A Christmas Carol has spoken new things to my heart. It is a mythic story. It transcends its original writer and still lives in its many, many versions. Here are a few new thoughts I've had on it this year. Like, how exactly do you boil someone in their own pudding?

It has only recent occurred to me that Scrooge's first name is Ebenezer. Ebenezer as you may or may not know means "stone of help". It was set up as a memorial of battle in 2 Samuel. I think in my Experiencing God workbook, they equated this with standing stones in our lives to look back at and remember what God has done for us in the past. I may have heard this somewhere else too, but I forget exactly where. These standing stones are memorials of when God showed up and helped us. Ebenezer Scrooge is a bit of a memorial stone. Every Christmas, he is there reminding me that "mankind is my business" and to "honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."

Tiny Tim. This kid. How does he tug at my heart strings after all this time? Although, it has only been recently that I've seen (and heard) beyond his infamous "God bless us, everyone". This line now stands out to me:

Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see. (A Christmas Carol)

Um, wow. Granted, a child didn't actually say this, but, honestly, isn't this profound even for a grown man with serious literary credentials. How many of us look at our infirmities/weaknesses/whatever as a means of illuminating Christ? Do I hope that someone sees me reject wheat/rye/barley/oats at a meal because it might remind people that man cannot live by bread alone? I'll tell you how often:

NEVER!

In fact I am more likely to spend Communion Sundays feeling sorry for myself because I cannot share the bread. I've done it. I will be honest with you, I probably will not start thinking about my celiac disease in this way. I am not that humble or altruistic. Because the moment I do actual think this at the dinner table, it will be swiftly followed by "what a good person I am". But this just might come back to me next I'm feel sorry for myself when I can't eat bread.

Now if only I had written this in my undergrad paper on A Christmas Carol.

Visit Bonnie at Faith Barista as we Unwrap Jesus this Christmas.

Do you ever wonder what the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future might show you?