Many of us know the origins of the hymn Amazing Grace but far fewer know the story of how one of our most beloved hymns 'Silent Night' came to be. Now this is history I wish we had a video production of and there is a reason why I wished we had video footage! Its because the facts that I'm going to set down here is just one of the stories that's told about this hymn.
If you really want to appreciate the 'effects of the oral tradition' go and read a few of the stories about the origins of this Christmas Carol. More or less the hard facts you find are the same but the way they're put together varies. Its interesting, really it is.
The Poet Who Wrote The Christmas Carol:
It was a poem a Clergyman wrote during the few days that preceded one Christmas Eve in 1818. That was 195 years ago and it doesn't seem its worn out its welcome yet! This Clergyman lived and served in a small Austrian Village, nestled in the Alps, known as Oberndorf.
Father Josef Mohr was on his way walking to see a family who had a cabin nestled high in the Alps. They say that while he was on his way the stunning beauty of the winter landscape overtook him with awe. it was so quiet... except for the babbling brook whose song sang into the crisp air. The pines that lined the hills were dark emerald green against the deep azure blue sky...and all around the snow covered ground.
It must have been so welcoming to get inside the warm cabin. Its said that the first thing that caught his eye was a mother with her new baby sitting by the fireside. Given the poem that he later wrote we could assume that this 'nativity scene' prompted the thought of the original nativity that he was soon to officiate on Christmas Eve.
When he left the family and headed home, it was nightfall and the moonlight glistened from the snow covered hills and gleamed from the babbling brook. It was a silent night and he felt it to be a holy night. All is calm, all is bright. But wait..!
What Went Wrong?:
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.
When Josef and Franz were trying to figure out what to do about the upcoming service and the broken organ, he showed his poem to his friend, the music teacher. He loved it and said that the very words suggested a simple tune and in his mind the poem was really a Christmas Carol.
Poet & Composer Collaborate:
Now, this collaboration between these two souls is one I so wish I could see in some video production...or even a movie made about it. Anyway, isn't it a blessing that Franz could play the guitar! No organ; no problem. When he picked out the simple tune that we still hear today its good to know that it was done that very hour. It was as if it had already been written. The rest was left to history to echo. The caroling service went on as planned and all were blessed. In the Spring, the organ mender came from a nearby village and repaired the organ. When the musician sat down to test out his repairs he played the tune he had composed. The organ mender not only remembered this tune, he took it home and taught it to a few children and they taught it to their friends. And so it way, that Silent Night was first spread all through the land by the children.
The Journey of Silent Night:
Then it ended up in the most famous cathedral of Salzburg, St. Peters. Then it travelled somehow to Paris...then to London and from there it arrived like so many other immigrants, to America. First in the big cities then to the small towns and now everywhere, during the Christmas season, you'll hear 'Silent Night, Holy Night.
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
I don't think I shall ever forget hearing it for the first time in it's original language, Austrian. My friend sang it to me one Christmas Eve. Michele was Austrian and we were both sitting in her new gorgeous A-frame house overlooking Lake Kooteny in British Columbia, Canada. It was dusk, we were seated side by side in recliner chairs that we had pulled up close to the floor to ceiling windows. The Canadian Rockies were, of course, snow covered. The night was clear, cold and the sky was a mix of purple and indigo. It was stunning.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon during this Christmas Eve, mixed with her longing for her homeland made the singing of this hymn particularly poignant. It was the first time I had ever heard her sing. The song, it's message, and the way she sang it closed the gab on the 30 yrs that lay between our ages. I thought it was odd that she'd taken up learning piano and wondered why she, 'a much older woman' would do that?! I couldn't resist asking her about it and had it not been for her kind nature I suppose she could've thought me rude. I mean, when you consider it, although my roots and upbringing are so closely drawn to the European culture, my birth country was American and Americans, as we know are mostly involved with calculating the value of something by measuring it on the bottom line. That's where the buck starts and stops, is measured to be worthwhile or tossed out!
Insensitive of me to ask her why she was starting piano lessons now?! I was taken aback when she replied that because she wanted to...she was doing it for herself. I won't forget that lesson.
Precious Memories Teach Me Still:
What I most recall about listening to her singing that carol in Austrian and then teaching it to me was the depth of her longing for her homeland. I knew that they had come out of Nazi Germany and immigrated to Canada to escape so much unspeakable sorrow. And her singing that song, on this Christmas eve was particularly poignant since she did not consider herself a Christian. The belief in God, as she put it, died in the horror of the war.
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 beautiful. She had dreamy blue eyes and blond hair with many curls. She had a noticeable nervous tic that was somehow endearing. Although she was overwrought most of the time and had a profound and noticeable capacity for critical thinking. She introduced me to many aspects of literature and was always interested and impressed about my passionate interest in the Bible and my knowledge of its writers.
This is December 12th, 2013. Very soon it will be Christmas Eve. I think I'll sing that very song she sung to me, back to her...and I'll do it in her mother tongue which I still remember. That way, she'll know that I cherish the friendship still. Michele will like that.
If you really want to appreciate the 'effects of the oral tradition' go and read a few of the stories about the origins of this Christmas Carol. More or less the hard facts you find are the same but the way they're put together varies. Its interesting, really it is.
The Poet Who Wrote The Christmas Carol:
It was a poem a Clergyman wrote during the few days that preceded one Christmas Eve in 1818. That was 195 years ago and it doesn't seem its worn out its welcome yet! This Clergyman lived and served in a small Austrian Village, nestled in the Alps, known as Oberndorf.
Father Josef Mohr was on his way walking to see a family who had a cabin nestled high in the Alps. They say that while he was on his way the stunning beauty of the winter landscape overtook him with awe. it was so quiet... except for the babbling brook whose song sang into the crisp air. The pines that lined the hills were dark emerald green against the deep azure blue sky...and all around the snow covered ground.
It must have been so welcoming to get inside the warm cabin. Its said that the first thing that caught his eye was a mother with her new baby sitting by the fireside. Given the poem that he later wrote we could assume that this 'nativity scene' prompted the thought of the original nativity that he was soon to officiate on Christmas Eve.
When he left the family and headed home, it was nightfall and the moonlight glistened from the snow covered hills and gleamed from the babbling brook. It was a silent night and he felt it to be a holy night. All is calm, all is bright. But wait..!
What Went Wrong?:
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.
When Josef and Franz were trying to figure out what to do about the upcoming service and the broken organ, he showed his poem to his friend, the music teacher. He loved it and said that the very words suggested a simple tune and in his mind the poem was really a Christmas Carol.
Poet & Composer Collaborate:
Now, this collaboration between these two souls is one I so wish I could see in some video production...or even a movie made about it. Anyway, isn't it a blessing that Franz could play the guitar! No organ; no problem. When he picked out the simple tune that we still hear today its good to know that it was done that very hour. It was as if it had already been written. The rest was left to history to echo. The caroling service went on as planned and all were blessed. In the Spring, the organ mender came from a nearby village and repaired the organ. When the musician sat down to test out his repairs he played the tune he had composed. The organ mender not only remembered this tune, he took it home and taught it to a few children and they taught it to their friends. And so it way, that Silent Night was first spread all through the land by the children.
The Journey of Silent Night:
Then it ended up in the most famous cathedral of Salzburg, St. Peters. Then it travelled somehow to Paris...then to London and from there it arrived like so many other immigrants, to America. First in the big cities then to the small towns and now everywhere, during the Christmas season, you'll hear 'Silent Night, Holy Night.
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
I don't think I shall ever forget hearing it for the first time in it's original language, Austrian. My friend sang it to me one Christmas Eve. Michele was Austrian and we were both sitting in her new gorgeous A-frame house overlooking Lake Kooteny in British Columbia, Canada. It was dusk, we were seated side by side in recliner chairs that we had pulled up close to the floor to ceiling windows. The Canadian Rockies were, of course, snow covered. The night was clear, cold and the sky was a mix of purple and indigo. It was stunning.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon during this Christmas Eve, mixed with her longing for her homeland made the singing of this hymn particularly poignant. It was the first time I had ever heard her sing. The song, it's message, and the way she sang it closed the gab on the 30 yrs that lay between our ages. I thought it was odd that she'd taken up learning piano and wondered why she, 'a much older woman' would do that?! I couldn't resist asking her about it and had it not been for her kind nature I suppose she could've thought me rude. I mean, when you consider it, although my roots and upbringing are so closely drawn to the European culture, my birth country was American and Americans, as we know are mostly involved with calculating the value of something by measuring it on the bottom line. That's where the buck starts and stops, is measured to be worthwhile or tossed out!
Insensitive of me to ask her why she was starting piano lessons now?! I was taken aback when she replied that because she wanted to...she was doing it for herself. I won't forget that lesson.
Precious Memories Teach Me Still:
What I most recall about listening to her singing that carol in Austrian and then teaching it to me was the depth of her longing for her homeland. I knew that they had come out of Nazi Germany and immigrated to Canada to escape so much unspeakable sorrow. And her singing that song, on this Christmas eve was particularly poignant since she did not consider herself a Christian. The belief in God, as she put it, died in the horror of the war.
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 beautiful. She had dreamy blue eyes and blond hair with many curls. She had a noticeable nervous tic that was somehow endearing. Although she was overwrought most of the time and had a profound and noticeable capacity for critical thinking. She introduced me to many aspects of literature and was always interested and impressed about my passionate interest in the Bible and my knowledge of its writers.
This is December 12th, 2013. Very soon it will be Christmas Eve. I think I'll sing that very song she sung to me, back to her...and I'll do it in her mother tongue which I still remember. That way, she'll know that I cherish the friendship still. Michele will like that.
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