A few weeks ago, the supermarket shelves surprised me. I suddenly realised that I wasn’t feeling very “Christmassy”.
The sights and sounds jolted me into remembering that Christmas was only a few weeks away. The array of food and decorations invited me to travel down memory lane as I began looking ahead to Christmas 2025.
One of my earliest memories is of snow-covered roads and cold. My last Christmas in the United Kingdom, before our family came to Australia, was as a seven-year-old, walking the short distance from our 18th Century home to the village church. It was cold and dark!
As a teenager, I spent Christmas lying flat in a hospital bed following spinal surgery.
I watched Carols by Candlelight on the only TV in the ward. The kindness of the staff and families to the teenager a long way from home was soul changing.
In my twenties, during my clinical pastoral education, some older parishioners invited me to their Christmas lunch so I wouldn’t spend the day alone. A kind, simple, thoughtful gesture.
I think of a Christmas spent in Munich while on long service leave. We went to the local Lutheran church expecting a communion service, only to discover it was a Service of the Word – in German. The only words we recognised was “Stille Nacht” (Silent Night) and “Gluwein” (Mulled Wine).
In truth, not all Christmases have been easy. Sometimes Christmas has been hard. All these memories came to mind during that trip to the supermarket.
Nowadays for my family, Christmas often means an afternoon road trip to join extended family. Gifts, the tree, abundant food, the familiar rituals.
Dear to my heart are the memories of parish and cathedral services over the years. The Cathedral full of children, parishioners extending themselves with hospitality, stirring music, soft light, and the warm glow of candles.
How our Christmas carols help us remember the story
The sounds in supermarkets at Christmas have changed a lot. ‘Jingle Bells’, ‘Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer’, and ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ have replaced Christmas carols.
Christmas carols do something important for us. They bring the past into the present. They help us remember a miraculous birth, in a town governed by oppression, a cosmic event in an ordinary setting. As we sing them, we rehearse the Christmas story.
“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” tell us that the visible and invisible world rejoiced. “O Little Town of Bethlehem” reminds us that God often works in quiet, overlooked places. “Silent Night” draws us back to the simplicity and vulnerability of Christ’s birth. “Joy To The World” lifts our eyes from our own worries and reminds us of hope breaking in.
Carols hold scripture, memory, theology, emotion, and relationship all at once. They give us a way to recall the story not only with our minds, but with our hearts, voices, and breath. They invite us to bring our whole selves to the work of remembering and rejoicing.
The story we tell at Christmas is that God – in love and kindness – embraced the fullness of humanity in order that the whole creation might experience reconciliation and hope.
God demonstrated vulnerability and humility to remind us that the world is transformed not through power but in service. The tales of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem show us God’s way involves drawing people together.
A final word
I hope that as you hear or sing Christmas carols this year, they revive your own memories of Christmas — both good and challenging ones – and the ones that shaped you more than you realised at the time.
Sharing memories and telling stories helps reduce isolation, anxiety, and sadness.
A familiar sound, a smell, a taste, or a simple scene can open a moment of connection — especially for people whose memory is changing or fading.
I hope that, as your Christmas memories come to life in your heart and mind, you recall the love and kindness you have received and given.
In our world with its busyness and distress, we need reminders of charity and grace, love and kindness.
If you have no other gift to give this Christmas, share a little kindness with the people you meet.
It may be the simplest gift we can give, and often the one most needed.
