Considering — much less debating — the eternal fate of a secondary character from classic literature seems an exercise in ineffectiveness, but nonetheless it’s something I seem to do every year at this time.
Jacob Marley, that character, inspires the act. Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” opens with his demise: “Marley was dead, to begin with.” And it’s Marley’s post-cessation of life escapades in the novel, starting with his nocturnal Christmas Eve visitation exactly seven years after his death, which fuels the journey of Ebenezer Scrooge — and has helped inspire readers to extend kindness and practice acts of generosity for 178 years.
With Marley’s intervention and the help from the ghosts of Christmas past, present and Christmases to come, Scrooge transfigures, over the course of a night, from “a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone” to a hero, a friend and benefactor to his community and a second father and savior, in a way, to Tiny Tim.
But what of Marley? Hitherto in chains of his own creation and bound to travel ethereal planes without rest? Does his ghostly act save him, too, or just get him a few bonus points in purgatory?
It’s a question of redemption. We know Ebenezer Scrooge was weighed down with the same kind of chains worn by Marley, but he was ultimately redeemed. Dickens tells us so. But Dickens fails to tell us of Marley’s Christmas morning, of his next act.
I made my last read for the season of a few pages from “A Christmas Carol” on Christmas night, and in drifting off to sleep afterward, found myself pondering the question of redemption for a year soon to be past.
Two years into a pandemic, a year removed from January 6, struggling through a year of failings and frustration, and reeling still from deaths in 2021 of people I loved dearly, what can I say about 2022? What can we collectively say?
We end the old year feel aggrieved and, in a modern phenomenon we may not have imagined a few Christmases ago, trolled.
It was an unattractive, vulgar year. “Decency,” to quote a recent story in The Atlantic, “is for suckers.” Not as a way of suggestion, but as an observation of 2021 and the modern world — a world where “norms and guardrails need to be smashed.”
Pandemic aside, the ethic of the day seems indeed to be ruthlessness, vengefulness and whatever else that justifies your means.
Throw in a little Omicron and things don’t bode well for 2022.
But then I think of Ebenezer, and of his business partner Jacob, and I think: why not throw open the window sash on 2022 with a change of heart? Haven’t we lived long enough to see the folly of the past and the present? Instead of throwing out the rules, like we seemed to do in 2021, why not adopt a few simple ones for ‘22?
What came to mind as Christmas night drew to a close were a few words penned 125 years ago by a Canadian missionary to China. On the flyleaf of his Bible, Dr. Jonathan Goforth wrote seven rules for himself. They guided him until his death, and have served as a beacon for many since. I’ve made a few minor revisions below (you can Google the original version) as a suggestion for all of us for 2022. We may not be able to change much of what 2022 brings to us, but we can certainly bring something different into the new year.
The 7 rules:
1. Give generously; expect nothing in return.
2. Regardless of the circumstances, put the very best construction on the actions of others.
3. Never let a day pass without at least a quarter of an hour spent in the study of the Bible or other texts which inspire you. Build a foundation from something outside yourself.
4. Take time every morning and every night to pray, reflect, and meditate on why you’re here. Everyone man who’s walked the earth dies; don’t leave with a long list of regrets.
5. Always do the right thing; always do your best.
6. Cultivate a peaceful spirit with your fellow travelers.
7. Seek each day to do or say something to make someone’s life better.
Here’s to 2022. I’ll pick Marley and Scrooge back up sometime after Thanksgiving next year and once again be inspired and hopeful, and look back on another year.
In the meantime: God bless us. Every one.