From the Archbishop
December 2025
The Most Revd Kay Goldsworthy AO DD, Archbishop
I guess that many of you, like me, have found yourself around this time of the year, pausing before a nativity scene. It might be the one that has adorned your home for decades, lovingly unpacked each Advent, its figures worn smooth by the hands of children and grandchildren. It might be that it’s one that brings to mind a loved one no longer with you, or a country and Christmases celebrated a long way from Australia.
These crèches or cribs come in every imaginable form, carved from olive wood, moulded in clay, or woven from straw. Some reflect the features, dress and culture of the people who made them, reminding us that Christ is born for every land and nation. Today you can even find nativity scenes built from Lego bricks or captured within snow globes – modern expressions of an ancient story.
Still other nativity scenes highlights that even in places of terror and conflict remember that God is near. Many years ago the priest in my parish made a nativity scene using camouflage print fabric as the background, with some barbed wire border around the figures surrounding the crib.
In my home, we also treasure a small nativity set that has accompanied our family through the years. Its simplicity stands in contrast to the deep affection we hold for it. It has become a quiet companion to many Christmases – its presence reminding us, year after year, of the wonder of God’s love made tangible and near. Like so many of your own cherished cribs, it speaks not only of a story told long ago, but of the faith that continues to shape our lives today.
Whatever their form, each nativity scene points us to a truth that lies at the very heart of our faith: the profound mystery of the Incarnation. At Christmas we celebrate that the Word became flesh (John 1:14), and that the invisible God has made himself visible in the face, the life, and the person of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world (Colossians 1:15). God chose not to remain distant, but to make his dwelling among us in the midst of our humanity, undeterred by its messiness or its sometimes painful ugliness. Jesus has been born for all.
One of the Prayer Book’s collects for Christmas Day reminds us of this when it invites us to pray:
God Most High,
whose eternal Word chose a dwelling among us,
that we might live in your presence:
grant us a spirit of wisdom
to know how rich is the glory you have given us,
and how great is the hope to which we are called
in the Word made flesh.
And how quietly the eternal Word came! Not with spectacle or splendour, but in humility, in poverty, and in the beautiful ordinariness of daily life. The Child of Bethlehem reveals a God who stoops low to lift us high, who enters our world so that no part of our lives is beyond his redeeming love and influence.
May the nativity scenes in your homes and churches, however simple or elaborate, draw you again to adore the One who comes to dwell with us.
I wish you and those you love a holy, peaceful, and joy-filled Christmas.