I was sitting at home, coffee in hand, when one of those breaking news articles popped up at the top of my iPhone screen. “Mary Oliver, poet, dies at the age of 83.” My heart sank. I let out a sigh and tears welled up in my eyes.

By encountering Ebenezer Scrooge as a human being, we also encounter ourselves. We are not simply creatures with the capacity for choosing good and evil, but intricate weavings of fate and freedom, intellect and sense, memory and blindness. By awakening to Scrooge’s humanity, we awaken to our own.