Advent is the beginning of a sacred adventure. Historically, it is a season of awakening and preparation for the joyful news of Christmas and all it means for our lives, the transformation which is the whole intent of Christmas. The Child is in every culture a symbol of beginnings, of something emerging, of newness, of hope . . . a sign of the relentless power of life.

This is the first in an Advent/Christmas series exploring the journey of the soul, described in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, as the journey of Advent and into Christmas. It carries us back to another time of social and spiritual upheaval in 19th century Europe where class, social, racial and ethnic divisions created intolerance, exclusion, and left many destitute. In just such a time, Charles Dickens wrote a story that has shaped our modern understanding of Christmas; through the characters of Ebenezer Scrooge, Jacob Marley, the Cratchits, and Tiny Tim, Dickins gives us a parable of what Christmas aims to do for and with us—the presence of God, symbolized by this Child so humbly born, comes into the night of our lives to heal, transform, and empower us. Truly God aims to “Bless us, everyone!”

The audio recording is available here.

Today, Advent begins. Advent—that season leading to the Twelve Days of Christmas. Advent—the season that readies us for the season of Christmas.

A reminder: common practice today has Christmas ending on Christmas Day. But the truth is, Christmas begins on Christmas Day and ends twelve days later on January 5th, the day before Epiphany. Maybe this sounds arbitrary, or a relic of an outdated religious practice. But it not. It underscores my point. The living spiritual tradition that gives shape to Advent and Christmas knows that to experience Christmas we need preparation. Preparation, then, is the purpose of the four weeks of Advent.

So, Advent has a purpose—it readies our bodies, minds, and souls for the spiritual encounter Christmas not only symbolizes but wants to energize.

What, then, is Christmas for?

Some say, “The purpose of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child, Jesus.”

Yes, that’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

Many religious people say that “Jesus is the reason for the season.”

Christmas is about the historical person of Jesus, born to a historical Mary and Joseph, in a far away historical place called Bethlehem.

A lot of religious people worry that Christmas has been co-opted by commercialism. “Keep Christ in Christmas!” they say. They want the world to recognize that Jesus is historical, while Santa Claus is not. Christmas is about a savior we need, not stuff we don’t. And they have a point.

But keeping Christ-as-a-historical-figure in Christmas is meaningless if Christmas isn’t kept in us. Christmas isn’t merely about Jesus; it is, more importantly, about what Jesus was and is about. If we don’t find ways to recognize in ourselves the mystery of divinity in us; if we don’t find ways to reverence the presence of God at the heart of every human being, regardless of whether a person is religious or not, we have missed the true purpose of Christmas.

Saint Paul, one of the earliest Christian proponents and teachers, was not primarily concerned with the historical Jesus. He was concerned with what Jesus means for us personally, existentially, here and now in our lives. In his Letter to the Colossians, he writes what could have been a mediation on the mystery of Christmas. “The mystery that has been hidden throughout the ages and generations, has now been revealed to us. It’s this: Christ in us, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1.27).

This is what Christmas is for—Christmas is for something new, something divine, something life-altering to awaken in us. Yes, it’s about the birth of Christ long ago, but Christ born long ago is only a sign of what God wants to birth in and among us and in our world—that something new, something divine, something life-altering is born in us and in our world.

Most of us are familiar with the name, “Scrooge.” Even we don’t know the 1843 book—A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens—we know the name, name “Scrooge." If someone is being contrarian, grumpy, or miserly we’ll call them “Scrooge.” If we’re feeling contrarian, grumpy, and withdrawn we’re tempted to say, “Bah, humbug!”

Dickens’s story, A Christmas Carol, is among the best loved and best known pieces of literature in the English speaking world. Too often, though, we remember Scrooge for the way Dickens describes him at the beginning of the story rather than the Scrooge we see at the end.

“Scrooge!” writes Dickens at the beginning of A Christmas Carol, “a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!” But by the end of the story, Ebenezer Scrooge is transformed from that squeezing, wrenching, grasping, covetous, bah-humbugging miser into a person who says, “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”

This is what Christmas is for. Christmas in our hearts, kept all year long, because something new is born in us, child-like, loving, playful, open, trusting, and wildly generous—Christ in us, and we, a sign and symbol of what God intends for us and for the world.

If Ebenezer Scrooge can change, there’s hope for all of us. There’s hope for the most entrenched tyrant we’re tempted to dismiss. There’s hope for the most hopeless situation.

What we’ve become isn’t all we’re meant to be—there’s always more liberation, more joy, more goodness and playfulness and warmth and generosity that want to break out of these chains that hold us back.

And the world isn’t all it could be—there’s always more beauty and warmth and justice and generosity that want to break through the chains of greed and violence and cruelty that hold so much of the world captive.

If Scrooge can change, there’s hope for everyone; no situation is hopeless.

Unfortunately, there are astonishing similarities between the realities of mid-19th century London and many places in America and the world today. Dickens paints an ugly picture of the social divisions, the vulnerability of women, children, and the urban poor, the environmental problems plaguing London, its dysfunctional political and economic system, and the problems of organized religion.

In late 19th century England, Christianity still held great influence over people’s lives. On Census Day, March 30, 1851, 7 million people—that’s 40 percent of the population—went to church. And yet, Christian faith and religious practice seemed to disconnect people from real life, and render people passive to the needs around them—it was unable to address the social and political realities that were hurting ordinary people.

But Dickens wasn’t interested in throwing out Christianity, as some of his contemporaries were. Instead, he seems to believe that it holds real power if it can be shifted from dogma and institution to experience and transformation. He sought to re-invent Christianity for the common good, and reinventing Christmas was the way he thought to do it.

The story of Scrooge’s transformation begins with the appearance of Marley’s Ghost. Jacob Marley had been Ebenezer Scrooge’s business partner for most of their lives. Jacob Marley died seven years earlier on Christmas Eve.

Actually, the story begins before Marley’s ghostly visit, at Scrooge’s business place, where Dickens paints a portrait of the man as that squeezing, wrenching, grasping, covetous, bah-humbugging miser, who, lonely and cruel, has no compassion for anyone and no interest in anyone but himself. Scrooge is the symbol of an inhumane humanity, a humanity turned in upon itself. Of the poor, he callously says, let them die “and decrease the surplus population.” They are “not my business.”

Then, in a terrifying scene, Marley’s Ghost appears to Scrooge that very night, the night of his death seven years earlier, Christmas Eve—bound in the chains he’d forged through his greed, callousness, and self-centeredness. Marley comes to Scrooge in an act of grave compassion, a compassion he didn’t possess on the living side of the grave. He comes to wake Scrooge up from his foolishness and mortal danger. Unless Scrooge will change on this side of the grave, Scrooge will suffer the same fate as Marley does on the other side—chains, misery, and eternal regret.

The Ghost of Jacob Marley is enraged by Scrooge’s unwillingness to see the consequences of his way of life. “Oh, you captive, bound and double-ironed. . . . it is too late for me, for no space of regret can make amends for one Life’s opportunities misused! But it’s not too late for you!”

Against the pressure that’s now haunting him, Scrooge tries to defend himself and Marley too: “But you were alway a good man of business, Jacob.”

“Business!”cried Marley’s Ghost, wringing its hands. “Humankind was supposed to be my business. The common welfare was supposed to be my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were all supposed to be my business. But I spent my life as you have, cruel, intolerant, ungenerous, and locked up in my own business while ignoring the welfare of others.”

“Humankind was my business,” wails Jacob Marley’s ghost.

It’s so easy to forget what life is all about—it’s so easy to become preoccupied ourselves; it’s so easy to let our past wounds shape the way we encounter the world; it’s so easy to live in scarcity mode, or victim mode, or to play the blame game; it’s so easy to judge others, become intolerant, criticizing what they look like, how they act, what they believe, where they’re coming from, who they vote for, their decisions, mistakes, and even their successes. It’s so easy to make life all about me—closed in upon ourselves, inhumane humanity!—and fail to live with curiosity, openness, and wonder—“charity, mercy, and forbearance”—a benevolent humanity instead.

In the nineteenth century, Charles Dickens used the story of Ebenezer Scrooge to say that things need to change—that anybody can change, that no situation is hopeless. Christmas (and Christianity with it), he argued, is meaningless unless we are changed—unless Christ, the compassionate presence of God,is born in us.

A Christmas Carol echoes a much earlier warning. In the first century, Jesus was dealing with the Scrooges of the first century—the “one percent” who, in economic and social tyranny, held such immense power over the masses of the less fortunate.

Jesus told the parable of the rich fool to warn those who heard him not to be like them, for unless they changed and lived the compassion of God, they would end up bound in the chains of eternal misery they'd forged in life.

The problem wasn’t wealth; the problem was that the wealthy too often failed to use wealth for the welfare of others.

The parable Jesus told about the Scrooges of the first century was directed at the rich who keep getting richer, the one percent who think only about how they can get richer still, the inhumane humanity who build one economic monopoly after another, the greedy humanity that that erect more walls and hire more border patrol to protect what they’ve got, the callous humanity that lobbies politicians who pass laws that benefit their interests above the needs of others, the self-centered corporate giants that hire contract workers so they don’t have to pay benefits, the pious humanity that goes to church to assure themselves that God is on their side.

“You fools!” Jesus cries. “You’ve missed the very point of your existence! You’ve squandered your humanity and degraded the humanity of others.”

“Oh, you, captives-in-your-self-forged-chains,” cries the Ghost of Jacob Marley. “It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you! Wake up! Wake up!”

Not too late for any of us . . . not yet.

The gospel according to Ebenezer Scrooge is this: What we’ve become isn’t all we’re meant to be—there’s always more liberation, more joy, more goodness and playfulness and warmth and generosity that wants to break out of these chains that hold us back.

The world isn’t all is could be—there’s always more beauty and warmth and justice and generosity that wants to break thought the chains of greed and violence and cruelty that hold so much of the world captive.

But if Scrooge can change, there’s hope for everyone—no one and no situation is ever hopeless.