Every year, as the calendar winds down, something magical happens.
Colorful lights cut through the darkness. Familiar songs hit the airwaves. And good spirit abounds.
Yes, it’s the holiday season. The time of reindeer antlers and gingerbread cookies. The time of ugly sweaters and endless parties. And the time of shopping and wrapping.
We have prepared all year for this moment — some more zealously than others.
For we know that when the days are short and the winter chill is strong, we can count on the dopamine high from these festivities to sustain us.
That dopamine high might come from a gift, wrapped in pretty paper. It might come from the serenity of loved ones gathered with us. It might even come from a cheerful Hello from a stranger.
In all of these cases, we are on the receiving end of bliss.
Bliss is addicting. Bliss is intoxicating. Bliss is the fuel that powers this magical time of year.
But there’s one small problem.
We’re experiencing it all backwards.
Tis better to give than to receive.
Many have parroted this proverb. But perhaps none as deftly as Charles Dickens.
With his 1843 masterpiece A Christmas Carol, Dickens managed to do the unthinkable. He crafted a cautionary tale that still resonates during our traditional month of revelry.
A Christmas Carol follows Ebenezer Scrooge, as he transitions from bitter and exacting accountant to kind and gentle. This might seem like an overdone narrative, but there’s a catch. The entire plot takes place in a 48 hour period between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
Scrooge’s overnight transformation from miserly to joyous is inspiring. But what we really connect with are the apparitions that visit Scrooge in his sleep — the Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present and the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. These are the visions that show Scrooge the errors of his ways, and inspire him to chart a new path.
These spirits lay bare the consequences of neglect. They warn us of the dangers of self-absorption. And they project the impact these behaviors have on one’s legacy.
This is all pretty heavy stuff for the season of elves and one-horse open sleighs.
Yet, that was precisely Dickens’ point.
At the time Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, the holiday season was one of extremes. The well-off would spend evenings in a drunken stupor, indulging themselves to no end. But across town, the less fortunate starved and froze, afflicted with a dearth of hope.
A Christmas Carol aimed to close that gap. To get the selfish to think of those around them. To convince the fortunate to give to the needy.
Dickens felt passionate about this cause. As a teenager, had to work long hours in deplorable conditions in a factory after his father was sent to a debtor’s prison. He never forgot what it felt like to be marginalized. And he made sure his readers understood that sensation too.
Encapsulating this message in a holiday tale was only fitting. After all, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus — who is renowned for his selfless deeds. The reformed Scrooge at the end of A Christmas Carol channels the very essence of that spirit.
Even so, I would argue that A Christmas Carol only partially succeeded at its mission.
As it turns out, the spirit of giving did increase after the novella’s publication. For a while anyway.
But the onset of the Industrial Revolution and the advent of advertising were too much for Dickens’ ideals to overcome.
Suddenly, factories were cranking out more products than ever before. And there were plenty of ways to introduce the masses to these items.
The elements were in place for consumerism to take hold of society. And as it did, the holidays went from a season of giving to one of receiving.
The noble cause trumpeted by Charles Dickens found itself overturned in a bar ditch. And it has yet to get itself back upright.
Growing up, the holidays felt a bit different for me than it did for my friends.
I didn’t grow up in a Christian household. So, there was no Christmas tree in our living room. There were no garlands wrapping around the stair bannisters. And there were no lights strung to the edge of the roof.
Even so, I found myself sucked into the vortex of the holiday season, and the obsession with receiving that came with it.
For on Christmas Day each year, we’d head to my godmother’s house — where there was a Christmas tree in the living room. And as I took in the scene, I would find that Santa had left me a gift — generally that year’s edition of the Hess Toy Truck.
It wasn’t long before I developed a Pavolvian response to the holidays. As I thought of Santa bringing me the latest Hess Truck, my heart started racing.
This continued for several years. But then, something strange happened.
The entire gift receiving parade started to feel hollow. While I was still appreciative for what I received, I no longer craved it.
In short, I found I was over the season of receiving.
This revelation shook me to my core. The entire identity I had associated the holidays with was gone. And I wasn’t sure what would fill the void.
As I contemplated all this, I wandered into the kitchen of my childhood home. The Christmas Day edition of The New York Times was still on the table. At the top, above the iconic masthead, lay six words in green text: Today is Christmas. Remember the neediest.
Suddenly, it all clicked.
In that moment, I saw the true potential of the holidays. I saw it as a time to give, not to take.
I had yet to experience A Christmas Carol at this point. But Dickens’ grand moral of that tale found its way to me anyway.
Ever since that day, I’ve made a conscious effort to be more generous during this time of year. Not only with my money, but also with my time and disposition.
This has become more challenging over the years, as increasing demands of work, school and travel have taken their toll. But I do my best not to divert from my holiday season North Star.
Over time, I have seen this mission expand. In fact, I now consider generosity one of my core tenets. And these days, the spirit of giving is with me year-round.
My kitchen table revelation changed the trajectory of my life, in some sense. But I don’t consider my tale to be extraordinary.
For the truth is, we all have the power to embrace the spirit of giving. To unleash hidden generosity. To put others ahead of ourselves.
All that’s in doubt is whether we have the inclination to do so.
With that in mind, let’s flip the script that consumerism has thrown at us.
Let’s make the holidays about giving, not receiving.
That little change can make a world of difference.