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:
An Austrian Priest from the small village known as Oberndorf deep in the Alps, scribed the lovely poem that was later to become the world's 'Silent Night'. The year was 1818, some 195 years ago. If there is any truth to the assertion that when something survives the changing times it must touch a key note in us all.
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!
But What Had Taken Place In His Absence?:
Well, lend me an ear and I'll tell you! His friend, the notable and beloved of all, Choir Master and music teacher discovered that the organ would not play a single note! Remember that this is a village hidden deep in the Austrian Alps! What could he now do with this broken organ? Mind you, no pressure, but it is soon to be Christmas Eve and what is a Christmas Eve Service anywhere in the world without music?! Christmas Eve with everyone happy, singing together with no organ music!? A clear disaster was at hand with no way to turn it around. Franz Gruber thank heavens above, was a consummate Maestro, as such he could play more than one instrument. Its good to know then, that as soon as Father Josef arrived home, he quickly wrote down the words to the simplest of poems that for our joy is still close to the very heart beat of Christmas services all over the world: 'Silent Night', now 195 yrs old, still heard all through the festive season.
The Poet showed the newly scripted poem to his friend; given that the organ was absolutely breathless, no wind, no sound, no music...having a poem that Fanz Gruber could set to music was a Godsend. The Choir Master said that the poem itself suggested the tune.
Poet & Composer Collaborate:
How sweet would it be if we had video footage of these two drafting the final version of 'Silent Night'. i suppose we'll have to just 'know' that like most Maestros, this music teacher also played more than one instrument, in this case, a guitar. He composed in one sitting the lovely sparse tune we all still sing 195 years later! I especially love this fact since many tunes are rewritten, rehashed for many memorable songs. This simple melody simply does not have anything spare on it to spin another version. Like the poem, it is perfectly complete. Later during the spring thaw, an organ mender from a nearby village was summoned to repair the organ. When Franz Gruber sat down at the newly fixed organ he played the tune he'd composed for the poem his friend had written. The organ mender remembered it and took the melody and the song back to his village and taught it to some children.
What Happened Next To The Song?:
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.
I Heard Silent Night Sung In It's Native Language:
Difficult to ever forget the first time I heard this beloved carol sung in it's language of origin. It was my dear friend, Michele was of Austrian birth and she sang it to me. Late one evening in British Columbia, Canada. Overlooking Lake Kootenay to be exact. Stunning snow covered Canadian Rockies as a back drop. Cold night and very clear, star studded sky. A painting of indigo and purple with bright sparkling diamonds all over it. We were sitting in front of the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors...arm chair next to arm chair. Stunning beauty never to be forgotten.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon, mixed with her obvious home sickness drew the Christmas Carol, Silent Night out of her. I had never heard her sing before. She was 53 and I was 24 or 25. I remember thinking about how she had taken up piano lessons and I wondered why someone so old would do something like that! So in my characteristic and sometimes, though not meaning to be, unkindness, I ask her why she was doing that? Because everything in my mind set, following on from a very industrious and utilitarian upbringing as an American, I factored that it was a waste of time unless you were ( I love this next useless phrase) unless you were 'going to do something with it'.
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.
Lessons Learned Form My Memories:
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.
Poignant also because she adored this Christmas tune and yet said she did not believe in God. "God died in the war. They killed Him." Her singing that hymn, on that night, in the way she did, would be something anybody would remember. She's gone now. Home, wherever that is. I don't believe in death... I do believe in circles.
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:
An Austrian Priest from the small village known as Oberndorf deep in the Alps, scribed the lovely poem that was later to become the world's 'Silent Night'. The year was 1818, some 195 years ago. If there is any truth to the assertion that when something survives the changing times it must touch a key note in us all.
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!
But What Had Taken Place In His Absence?:
Well, lend me an ear and I'll tell you! His friend, the notable and beloved of all, Choir Master and music teacher discovered that the organ would not play a single note! Remember that this is a village hidden deep in the Austrian Alps! What could he now do with this broken organ? Mind you, no pressure, but it is soon to be Christmas Eve and what is a Christmas Eve Service anywhere in the world without music?! Christmas Eve with everyone happy, singing together with no organ music!? A clear disaster was at hand with no way to turn it around. Franz Gruber thank heavens above, was a consummate Maestro, as such he could play more than one instrument. Its good to know then, that as soon as Father Josef arrived home, he quickly wrote down the words to the simplest of poems that for our joy is still close to the very heart beat of Christmas services all over the world: 'Silent Night', now 195 yrs old, still heard all through the festive season.
The Poet showed the newly scripted poem to his friend; given that the organ was absolutely breathless, no wind, no sound, no music...having a poem that Fanz Gruber could set to music was a Godsend. The Choir Master said that the poem itself suggested the tune.
Poet & Composer Collaborate:
How sweet would it be if we had video footage of these two drafting the final version of 'Silent Night'. i suppose we'll have to just 'know' that like most Maestros, this music teacher also played more than one instrument, in this case, a guitar. He composed in one sitting the lovely sparse tune we all still sing 195 years later! I especially love this fact since many tunes are rewritten, rehashed for many memorable songs. This simple melody simply does not have anything spare on it to spin another version. Like the poem, it is perfectly complete. Later during the spring thaw, an organ mender from a nearby village was summoned to repair the organ. When Franz Gruber sat down at the newly fixed organ he played the tune he'd composed for the poem his friend had written. The organ mender remembered it and took the melody and the song back to his village and taught it to some children.
What Happened Next To The Song?:
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.
I Heard Silent Night Sung In It's Native Language:
Difficult to ever forget the first time I heard this beloved carol sung in it's language of origin. It was my dear friend, Michele was of Austrian birth and she sang it to me. Late one evening in British Columbia, Canada. Overlooking Lake Kootenay to be exact. Stunning snow covered Canadian Rockies as a back drop. Cold night and very clear, star studded sky. A painting of indigo and purple with bright sparkling diamonds all over it. We were sitting in front of the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors...arm chair next to arm chair. Stunning beauty never to be forgotten.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon, mixed with her obvious home sickness drew the Christmas Carol, Silent Night out of her. I had never heard her sing before. She was 53 and I was 24 or 25. I remember thinking about how she had taken up piano lessons and I wondered why someone so old would do something like that! So in my characteristic and sometimes, though not meaning to be, unkindness, I ask her why she was doing that? Because everything in my mind set, following on from a very industrious and utilitarian upbringing as an American, I factored that it was a waste of time unless you were ( I love this next useless phrase) unless you were 'going to do something with it'.
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.
Lessons Learned Form My Memories:
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.
Poignant also because she adored this Christmas tune and yet said she did not believe in God. "God died in the war. They killed Him." Her singing that hymn, on that night, in the way she did, would be something anybody would remember. She's gone now. Home, wherever that is. I don't believe in death... I do believe in circles.
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.
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