Thought for the Day

Good morning. ‘Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions.’ So says Jane Austen of Fanny Price in Mansfield Park. But she could equally have said it of herself.

Good Morning,

‘Hark!’ ‘Do you hear what I hear?’ ‘They said there’d be snow this Christmas; they said there’d be peace on earth’ ‘Do they know it’s Christmas?’ ‘I pray God it’s our last!’ Throughout the land the lyrics of Christmas songs are being piped in shopping centres and pubs and, loved or loathed, we sing along.

This year’s official Christmas No1 will be decided on Friday. Current favourite is Kylie, with oldies from George Michael and Slade chasing hard. As Slade’s Noddy Holder sings; ‘Does your granny always tell ya that the old songs are the best.’

Then, in a tradition begun by Lennon and taken up by Rage Against The Machine, there are the Christmas protest songs. This year’s from Brian Eno and Peter Gabriel with ‘Lullaby’, a song for Gaza, and Billy Bragg’s ‘Put Christ Back Into Christmas’, with Bragg asking us ‘to stand with those who need the most’ and reminding us that Christmas celebrates the birth of a refugee.

It seems very British to me that we are free to mix protest in with sentimentality and silliness. The Christmas story is spacious enough to contain all our hopes and fears, our joy and praise, our rage and indifference. Even our scrooge-iest revulsion. For I contend that the birth of Christ is itself a kind of cosmic protest song.

The original Christmas No.1 was after all sung by angels to people at the margins of society: the young Mary and Shepherds, those far from the corridors of power and status; a startling song that announces a change to the status quo, a tune sweeter and louder than the prevailing mood music of despair, the monotonous dirge of violence and oppressive power, of one bad thing after another: ‘Do not be afraid’ it declares. ‘There will be peace on earth.’

It’s arguable that we might never have heard this story had the message not been sung to people who were immediately in tune with it, and able to sing back in words of astonished wonder and praise: ‘he has scattered the proud, put down the mighty, exalted those of lowly degree.’ Or ‘My eyes have seen your salvation.’ Once you’ve ‘hailed the incarnate deity’; or seen the Godhead veiled in flesh, the chances are you’re going to sing about it.

Christmas invites the world to sing a different tune. I’d even suggest that part of the reason we still sing about it – even if we stray into sentiment - is that its core melody is like a pop tune or great carol you can’t help but sing along with. ‘No. I can’t get you out of my head; because God and sinners are reconciled; because mild he lays his glory by; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee; And so this is Christmas.’

Good morning. This year, for the first time, I've bought a real, 6-foot Christmas tree - and I hit the shops in search of baubles and tinsel.

The only problem? Fashions have changed. I want the kind of tree I remember from the 80s: a multicoloured glitter bomb that looks like a dozen boxes of quality street.

Alas, things have gone posh. It's all pink and white now, or cold blue; coordinated and minimalist. As if decorating a hotel foyer. I stared for days at my naked tree, preferring that to the retail option, and wondering why I was so bothered.

Well, trees clearly do still matter because people are furious that a public tree was cut down at Shotton Colliery in County Durham, a green spruce the village planted over a decade ago in remembrance of the dead from two world wars. . It reminded me of the grief that was felt when the Sycamore Gap tree was butchered in 2023.

Christmas trees are far more than decoration. One legend has it, that they were introduced by Martin Luther, when he was out walking one winter night and saw the stars twinkling around the top of a fir. He put a tree hung with candles in his home, to remind onlookers that Jesus came from Heaven.

This German tradition was imported to Britain by Queen Charlotte, who, in 1800, decorated the first known royal tree at Windsor - with fruits, toys, raisins and candles.

It was already custom here to hang greenery indoors, probably to cheer us up while, in a colder age, the view outside the window was barren and white. To this pagan-ish spirit was added a Christian spin, the sparkling Christmas tree, like Christ, suggests light in the darkness and the promise of new life. For nature this comes with spring. For human beings, with resurrection.

Faith, far from being at odds with the tangible world of nature, sacramentalises it. In psalm 96, "the trees of the forest" are ordered to "sing for joy" in praise of God. The author of the Old English poem The Dream of the Rood encounters a talking tree that provided the wood for Christ's cross, bedecked with gold and gems.

This fits with my instinct that Christmas trees should be sparkly and bright, so bright that when the lights are switched on they’re visible from space.

A wise friend pointed out that most Christmas decorations are not bought in one go, but accumulated over a lifetime. When they’re taken out of the attic and hung from the tree, the odds and ends are a trip down memory lane. Christmas trees invite wonder. Adults, I suspect, think of childhoods past. The tree connects us to mysteries of time and nature and promise.

15 DEC 25

13 DEC 25

Over the next week or two – whatever your degree of vocal prowess or religious belief – you are likely to join in some form of communal singing.

Whether it’s ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’, ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ or ‘Feliz Navidad’, you will be obeying the exhortation of Psalm 100: “Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth. Serve the Lord with gladness; come into His presence with singing.”

Carols and seasonal songs are so integral to this time of year that we don’t probe the reason for their presence in churches, homes and so many other shared spaces. St Augustine of Hippo, born in the fourth century, can enlighten us. He said: “Cantare amantis est.” In other words, “To sing is the act of a lover,” or, as the Pope put it at the Jubilee of Choirs in Rome last month, “Singing belongs to those who love.” When we love deeply, silence is not enough. Love, with all the trust and joy it engenders, seeks expression, and it finds expression through song.

Christmas is the feast of God’s love made flesh. Our carols are songs of love to the God who comes among us. As Pope Leo reminded the singers assembled in St Peter’s Square, song can be a way of praying, lifting the soul towards the mystery we celebrate. When we sing, we join the angels who announced “Glory to the newborn king”.

Of course, the spiritual power of song is not restricted to Christmas and the people who celebrate it. It was in Judaism that the Psalms first became shared prayers, and at Hanukkah – the festival of light that so often coincides with Advent or Christmas – families and congregations sing to glorify God as candles glow.

In the Qawwali music of Sufi Islam, voices weave together in devotion. In Hinduism there are bhajans, in Buddhism chants, all expressing the universal impulse to give voice to love and reverence. To return to Psalm 100, our songs will ring out as we enter God’s gates with thanksgiving, and His courts with praise.

In a world that is so often fractured, communal singing produces both musical and spiritual harmony. So let us sing – not because custom demands it, but because love compels it. Through the simple and affirmative act of raising our voices together in this season of joy, and as members of the human race, we both convey and embody a crucial message: that what unites us is far greater than what divides us.

Good morning,

10 DEC 25

09 DEC 25

Good morning. In the midst of despair for many at the lack of international progress on combating climate change, comes a small but significant story of hope. Last week, scientists from NASA and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, published measurements of this year’s ozone hole over Antarctica. It showed the hole continuing to shrink, demonstrating that the ozone layer is recovering. This is a glimmer of hope giving confidence that science and governments can combine in healing the world.

Forty years ago, scientists from the British Antarctic Survey first observed this hole caused by the release of chlorofluorocarbons into the atmosphere, chemicals which are used widely in the production of a wide range of goods, from refrigerators to hair spray. The erosion of the ozone layer exposes the Earth to dangerous levels of ultra-violet radiation. Governments moved swiftly and two years later they adopted the Montreal Protocol. This led to a curtailing of these chemicals even if their concentration in the atmosphere would reach their peak some 13 years later. But the Protocol, built on good science and political willpower, means that by the 2060s the ozone hole will be closed and the planet protected.

This achievement needed committed action and long-term vision to solve a problem over many decades. Sir John Houghton, a leading atmospheric physicist, subsequently chaired over one hundred international scientists in producing the first Scientific Assessment Report as part of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. In contrast to the Montreal Protocol, combatting wider global warming was and still is slow progress, resisting considerable pressure from some governments and fossil fuel advocates. When asked whether he ever despaired his reply was ‘absolutely not — it is a totally solvable problem.’ This was based in his confidence in science but also in his deep Christian faith that God was active in the world and had not given up on it.

For Christians, the Creator God becoming flesh and blood in the baby born in Bethlehem, is an embodiment of hope. This incarnation shows that God is committed long term to the physical world in both the healing of human beings and the environment and that science is a gift to contribute to that. Further the good news of Jesus is that love can change people from selfish greed to generous service.

In a complex world where problems seem so intractable, I am thankful for glimmers of hope, either from science or from the Advent story, to sustain action over the long term and to resist the darkness of despair.