Shadows of What May Be
“Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point,” said Scrooge, “answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that May be only?”
It’s the scariest part of the movie. So scary in fact, that in my favorite version, Gonzo and Rizzo the Rat abdicate their roles as narrator/comic relief, promising to return only when this part is over. In contrast to the gluttonous, joyfully singing Ghost of Christmas Present and the ethereal, child-like Ghost of Christmas Past, there’s nothing remotely muppety about this spirit. He is shrouded in somber black robes, eerily silent, and spends most of his screentime creepily foretelling deaths. And yet, this is the spirit that brings Scrooge to his most vulnerable, moving him to ask the question central to his redemption: Can these awful events be avoided? Can I change?
Annual viewing of the Muppet Christmas Carol aside, I don’t really like scary movies. I’m already scared. I’m haunted by the specter of climate change. A friend tells me about her peak lifetime experience of rafting through the Grand Canyon, and I worry about the water levels of the Colorado. The thought makes my chest tighten. I hear that there isn’t enough snow on the mountain to run any of Snoqualmie’s 26 ski lifts, even though we should be into the “core” snow play season now. My stomach clenches. Is this it for winter?
Picture the bony hand of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come poking out of his dark cloak to bring up the NASA climate change effect page on my phone. The bony finger draws my attention to the horrors of a planet too hot, too dry, too unfertile. People die of heat stroke. We starve. We kill each other for access to a dwindling fresh water supply. I can barely breathe. I’m apparently not subtle with my distress because the dog comes over and puts his head on my lap. Matt asks if I would like some wine. That seems like the only sensible solution. I put down my phone and self-medicate.
The scary part of A Muppet Christmas Carol
Did Scrooge drink?
That scary ghost never even answers his question about whether these predictions can be changed. What if Scrooge had understood the spirit’s silence to mean, “Probably not. You’ll die. Tiny Tim will die. Everyone dies.” What if Scrooge had said, well, shit. May as well live it up now then. I mean, if Tiny Tim is going to die anyway, what’s the point in raising Bob’s salary? Scrooge could have come out of this haunting even more greedy, self-centered, and misanthropic. What’s the point in doing anything for anyone else in the cold, heartless world the spirit shows him?
At the height of his fear, crouching before the spirit by his own grave, Scrooge starts to see this whole thing from the ghosts’ perspective. This haunting business is a lot of work. Why would the spirits go to all this trouble to show him inevitabilities? He must be able to prevent these tragic visions from occurring. In strange and stilted Dickensian language, he talks himself into it:
“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Scrooge. “But if the courses be departed from, then ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”
If I keep doing what I’m doing, then what you’ve shown me is the outcome. But, because I can change, these are just the shadows of what may be not what will be.
I guess I forgot this when I was looking at the climate projections. Climate science is a lot of work. Trying to explain it on a webpage is a lot of work. There would be no point in this science, in these terrifying models, if their projections could not be changed.
I go back to the NASA page, and I see it. There, in strange and stilted Climate-scientist language:
“The magnitude and rate of climate change and associated risks depend strongly on near-term mitigation and adaptation actions, and projected adverse impacts and related losses and damages escalate with every increment of global warming.”
We can affect how bad the climate gets and how quickly it gets there by doing things that decrease our use of carbon and that help us take care of each other in this changing world. These are but the shadows of what may be.
Scrooge awakens from his haunting overcome with gratitude and possibility. He starts to use his wealth and privilege to take care of others. He pays his employees appropriately; he assures medical care for Tiny Tim; he hangs out with his family. He sings and dances with muppets, and he vows to honor the past, the present, and the future. He makes “mankind” his business, now and into the future.
May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One.