Everyone seems to know all of the words of the memorable hymn, 'Amazing Grace' or at least have heard it. The history of the most endearing hymn, Silent Night', is however, not generally known. Just think of it, had we someone there with an iPhone we could've just posted a, no doubt, viral video production here!
Most of us are not at all aware of the way history is affected by stories that are not written down but rather narrated to someone who then tells it to someone else, and then another person and we call that the 'oral tradition'. This is one such version of this story I'm going to tell you here so I hasten to add that at least the hard facts of this story have been proved to be drawn from solid facts. I find this alone, very interesting.
The Poet Who Wrote The Christmas Carol:
A Clergyman, who lived in an Austrian alpine village scribed this carol a hundred and ninety five years ago; the year was 1818 and the village was known as Oberndorf. It was the week of Christmas.
His name was Father Josef Mohr. On a day during Christmas week he went to visit a family who lived in a cabin high up on the surrounding hills. He walked there and the hike proved most pleasant for him and fortuitous for us. During the walk he became so aware of the loveliness of God's creation. He thought the silence composed the best music until he neared the brook and heard the water singing as it danced over the water worn stones. The emerald green trees must have looked stunning lining the ridge that offset the deep, clear, blue sky.
When he arrived, it was early evening and he was warmly greeted at the door. When he stepped in, the first thing he saw was a newly born babe with its mother in adoring attendance. Since we have no video production to view on YouTube LOL or a viral video to view that was sent to us thru one of the many social media networks, we'll have to rely on those who've suggested that this walk put Father Josef Mohr into a reflective state of mind about the original Nativity scene. There would be no doubt his state of mind since he was in the middle of preparing for the upcoming caroling service that he would officiate Christmas eve.
By the time he left for the Vicarage it was early nightfall. The moon shone all around and glistened brightly. It was almost like walking in daylight. But it was nightfall; a silient night and Father Mohr felt it to be particularly holy night,... so calm and bright. BUT, little did he know that while he was gone, and all the while as he walked through this dreamy winter landscape, something happened in the church that would threaten his lovely plan for a wonderful Christmas Evening Service!
What Exactly Did Happen In Father Josef Mohr's Afternoon Of Absence?
Franz Gruber was the Choir Master and Music Teacher in the same village where Father Mohr lived and served. He was also a good friend of his. Franz sat down at the organ to do a bit of a run through with the Christmas service in mind and discovered that the organ was not working. This was a disastrous discovery because the working order of the only church organ is a crucial ingredient and much required to ensure a happy Christmas Eve Service! BUT, since Father Mohr sat and penned the poem he'd mentally written while he; the first person he asked an opinion from was his friend Franz Gruber.
Somehow its a bit magical to consider that this simple hymn written some 195 yrs. ago was to become perhaps the most known and beloved Christmas carol of them all. His friend the Choir Master suggested to him that the carol was definitely a Christmas hymn and he felt that the very lyrics suggested the tune it should have.
Poet & Composer:
Wonderful, don't you think, that while we don't even have a video production we can view to prove this to ourselves, we are told that we can rely on the fact that like most music teachers, Franz Gruber played more than one instrument; he also played the guitar. He took the simple loveliness of the beautiful sparse poem now titled 'Silent Night', and set it to a memorable melody. The rest is history and most of that is well documented. How the Christmas carol was taken by the organ mender (someone had to come and fix that breathless heap of wood! LOL ) back to his small village and taught the simple song to a small group of children.
What Happened Next To The Song?:
Somehow, Silent Night went from the children to the then big city of Salzburg, in fact, to it's most prominent cathedral, by name, St. Peter's. How exactly, we don't know, but then it was heard in Paris. It didn't stop there, it arrived in London one Christmas time and it did as many had, it immigrated to America! First the big cities, then the small and even the tiny hamlets of America. You can go anywhere in the entire continent of North America, and you can count on hearing this darling hymn during the holiday festivities. 'SIlent Night...Holy Night...All is Calm, All is Bright.'
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
This hymn was written by two native Austrians and as good fate and fortune would have it, I had the privilege of sharing a friendship with an Austrian woman. On one Christmas Eve, she, not being a Christian, sang it to me. Michele was in a sort of exile from her homeland. After the war, she and her husband fled from the impending influence of Nazi Germany and made their home in Canada. On this night, we sat there together looking out on what was a glorious view of the snow capped Canadian Rockies and the deep midnight blue waters, Lake Kootenay. British Columbia was a long ways from Austria.
The master piece we gazed upon was in sharp contrast to her longing for her homeland. Without an introduction she began to sing. The 30 years of age difference disappeared when she sang. I discovered that at age 53 she began to take piano lessons and I, with all the perception that belonged to someone 24 wondered why in the world would someone that age begin something like, do, ray, me piano lessons?! Although my European roots were very close to being an immigrant as was she, I was, nonetheless, raised in America. This is the country where you learn the cost of everything but not necessarily the value of anything.
I was taken aback when she simply said that she had always wanted to play the piano and this was the first time she could. She was doing it for herself. I've never forgotten that. It was a lesson that is still with me. There are so many things that I still want to do and in the ways of the world, if it's only value is to be measured pounds and pence on a bottom line, well then, these things I want to do are equally a waste of time.
Memories Are Mentors:
Listening to Michele sing this hymn and then her teaching it to me was a bitter sweet experience. Her longing for a 'home' we both knew she would never see again was left uncommented on. I knew she and her husband escaped Nazi Germany and immigrated. He had left the military without proper permissions.
When she finished singing the Christmas song, we sat in silence and I thought then as I think now, that those who start war should fight the wars. Man to man, hand to hand, in an open field and if possible butt naked! Let them sort it out without the fodder of youthful innocence to hide behind. She said that her belief in God died in the war.
Michele was a very beautiful woman both inside and out. Blond, loosely curled haired, bright blue eyes that somehow seemed very soft focused. That somehow did not combine with her oft state of nervousness. She was a great thinker and is accredited for introducing me to some of the world's greatest philosophers. I was always surprised that even with her confessed loss of faith in God, she was nevertheless keen on my interest in the Bible and my knowledge of it's history.
Today is December 13th, 2013. Everyone going about like headless chickens as Christmas is soon here. This Christmas Eve I shall sing this song to Michele, in her mother tongue, I wouldn't want her to think I've forgotten it. She'll like that.
Most of us are not at all aware of the way history is affected by stories that are not written down but rather narrated to someone who then tells it to someone else, and then another person and we call that the 'oral tradition'. This is one such version of this story I'm going to tell you here so I hasten to add that at least the hard facts of this story have been proved to be drawn from solid facts. I find this alone, very interesting.
The Poet Who Wrote The Christmas Carol:
A Clergyman, who lived in an Austrian alpine village scribed this carol a hundred and ninety five years ago; the year was 1818 and the village was known as Oberndorf. It was the week of Christmas.
His name was Father Josef Mohr. On a day during Christmas week he went to visit a family who lived in a cabin high up on the surrounding hills. He walked there and the hike proved most pleasant for him and fortuitous for us. During the walk he became so aware of the loveliness of God's creation. He thought the silence composed the best music until he neared the brook and heard the water singing as it danced over the water worn stones. The emerald green trees must have looked stunning lining the ridge that offset the deep, clear, blue sky.
When he arrived, it was early evening and he was warmly greeted at the door. When he stepped in, the first thing he saw was a newly born babe with its mother in adoring attendance. Since we have no video production to view on YouTube LOL or a viral video to view that was sent to us thru one of the many social media networks, we'll have to rely on those who've suggested that this walk put Father Josef Mohr into a reflective state of mind about the original Nativity scene. There would be no doubt his state of mind since he was in the middle of preparing for the upcoming caroling service that he would officiate Christmas eve.
By the time he left for the Vicarage it was early nightfall. The moon shone all around and glistened brightly. It was almost like walking in daylight. But it was nightfall; a silient night and Father Mohr felt it to be particularly holy night,... so calm and bright. BUT, little did he know that while he was gone, and all the while as he walked through this dreamy winter landscape, something happened in the church that would threaten his lovely plan for a wonderful Christmas Evening Service!
What Exactly Did Happen In Father Josef Mohr's Afternoon Of Absence?
Franz Gruber was the Choir Master and Music Teacher in the same village where Father Mohr lived and served. He was also a good friend of his. Franz sat down at the organ to do a bit of a run through with the Christmas service in mind and discovered that the organ was not working. This was a disastrous discovery because the working order of the only church organ is a crucial ingredient and much required to ensure a happy Christmas Eve Service! BUT, since Father Mohr sat and penned the poem he'd mentally written while he; the first person he asked an opinion from was his friend Franz Gruber.
Somehow its a bit magical to consider that this simple hymn written some 195 yrs. ago was to become perhaps the most known and beloved Christmas carol of them all. His friend the Choir Master suggested to him that the carol was definitely a Christmas hymn and he felt that the very lyrics suggested the tune it should have.
Poet & Composer:
Wonderful, don't you think, that while we don't even have a video production we can view to prove this to ourselves, we are told that we can rely on the fact that like most music teachers, Franz Gruber played more than one instrument; he also played the guitar. He took the simple loveliness of the beautiful sparse poem now titled 'Silent Night', and set it to a memorable melody. The rest is history and most of that is well documented. How the Christmas carol was taken by the organ mender (someone had to come and fix that breathless heap of wood! LOL ) back to his small village and taught the simple song to a small group of children.
What Happened Next To The Song?:
Somehow, Silent Night went from the children to the then big city of Salzburg, in fact, to it's most prominent cathedral, by name, St. Peter's. How exactly, we don't know, but then it was heard in Paris. It didn't stop there, it arrived in London one Christmas time and it did as many had, it immigrated to America! First the big cities, then the small and even the tiny hamlets of America. You can go anywhere in the entire continent of North America, and you can count on hearing this darling hymn during the holiday festivities. 'SIlent Night...Holy Night...All is Calm, All is Bright.'
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
This hymn was written by two native Austrians and as good fate and fortune would have it, I had the privilege of sharing a friendship with an Austrian woman. On one Christmas Eve, she, not being a Christian, sang it to me. Michele was in a sort of exile from her homeland. After the war, she and her husband fled from the impending influence of Nazi Germany and made their home in Canada. On this night, we sat there together looking out on what was a glorious view of the snow capped Canadian Rockies and the deep midnight blue waters, Lake Kootenay. British Columbia was a long ways from Austria.
The master piece we gazed upon was in sharp contrast to her longing for her homeland. Without an introduction she began to sing. The 30 years of age difference disappeared when she sang. I discovered that at age 53 she began to take piano lessons and I, with all the perception that belonged to someone 24 wondered why in the world would someone that age begin something like, do, ray, me piano lessons?! Although my European roots were very close to being an immigrant as was she, I was, nonetheless, raised in America. This is the country where you learn the cost of everything but not necessarily the value of anything.
I was taken aback when she simply said that she had always wanted to play the piano and this was the first time she could. She was doing it for herself. I've never forgotten that. It was a lesson that is still with me. There are so many things that I still want to do and in the ways of the world, if it's only value is to be measured pounds and pence on a bottom line, well then, these things I want to do are equally a waste of time.
Memories Are Mentors:
Listening to Michele sing this hymn and then her teaching it to me was a bitter sweet experience. Her longing for a 'home' we both knew she would never see again was left uncommented on. I knew she and her husband escaped Nazi Germany and immigrated. He had left the military without proper permissions.
When she finished singing the Christmas song, we sat in silence and I thought then as I think now, that those who start war should fight the wars. Man to man, hand to hand, in an open field and if possible butt naked! Let them sort it out without the fodder of youthful innocence to hide behind. She said that her belief in God died in the war.
Michele was a very beautiful woman both inside and out. Blond, loosely curled haired, bright blue eyes that somehow seemed very soft focused. That somehow did not combine with her oft state of nervousness. She was a great thinker and is accredited for introducing me to some of the world's greatest philosophers. I was always surprised that even with her confessed loss of faith in God, she was nevertheless keen on my interest in the Bible and my knowledge of it's history.
Today is December 13th, 2013. Everyone going about like headless chickens as Christmas is soon here. This Christmas Eve I shall sing this song to Michele, in her mother tongue, I wouldn't want her to think I've forgotten it. She'll like that.
About the Author:
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