“Think back to when you were in elementary school or perhaps high school. Who was at the dinner table at Christmas?”

This was a little exercise we undertook as faculty and staff recently at Gordon-Conwell’s monthly “Town Hall” meeting. Both joy and lament were intertwined in our ten-minute time of sharing. I was not ready for how it hit me and others at the table.

“Just me and mom.”

“Well, my mom had eleven siblings, and they all came with their families to the village.” I asked how many people that was and this person said she really didn’t know!

“My sisters and parents, but only one sister is still alive.”

Then, walking back to the podium to continue the seminary update, I suddenly recalled my own images of the people who would not be with my family this year: my parents, sister, and son-in-law. My memories of past Christmases and lost loved ones had to be suppressed so that I could lift up for the community some good news about the seminary.

Another friend had shared that a close relative had passed away recently and so the whole family would be gathering before Christmas to share memories and pray. Then, after lunch, another colleague shared that two close relatives—a son and spouse—had both passed away in the last year.

There will be a lot of memories, both sweet and bitter, that come to us this Christmas, as happens on many holidays. But Christmas and Thanksgiving are special times of celebration, which means they can also be times of mourning.

This Christmas I am going to take extra time to remember.

In my memory, I am going through thoughts of the family and friends: those who are here, those who have passed, new friends I’ve made, and new family members in our communities. As I remember, I will invite Jesus to be by my side, praying that he too would remember each person with his eyes of grace and heart of mercy and love.

It is also my prayer that, with the coming of the Messiah—God come to earth—will be a coming of the Christ child in deeper ways in my own life.

Memory is wonderful, awful, strange and very important.

I remember traveling one day with Leighton Ford the year after his son Sandy’s life slipped away on the operating table while he was still a college student. Leighton made an interesting comment, the essence of which remains etched in my memory: “Scott, I think a lot about Sandy and mostly my memories are of the good things he did and how he made us laugh. I know he was a rascal at times, but when I think back, I only have good memories. Do you think that is God’s grace working through our memories? That he lifts up what is good and true and noble and pure for us as we remember?”

Though these aren’t his exact words, they reflect a close facsimile of what he communicated to me. Now, some forty-two years later, I understand what he was talking about. God’s grace suffuses our memory so that our meditation on those who have passed becomes a call to goodness and mercy. In remembering what is good, we are guided and directed to be more like Christ. In remembering Christian saints of the past, whether it is a mother, or sister, or son-in-law or a fifth-century monk, we ourselves are summoned to be more like Christ. There is an instructional dimension to Christian remembering, especially during the holy days.

At an Anglican church last week, we prayed from a beautiful section from the “prayers of the people”:

We remember before you all your servants who have departed this life in your faith and fear, that your will for them may be fulfilled; and we ask you to give us grace to follow the good examples of all your saints, that we may share with them in your heavenly kingdom.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

May your memories this Christmas season, though perhaps they evince some sorrow, summon you to a place of grace and benediction. Amen.

Dr. Scott W. Sunquist, President of Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, is author of the “Attentiveness” blog. He welcomes comments, responses, and good ideas.