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.
Christmas Carol Was First Written As A Poem:
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.
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.
By the time he arrived to the cabin it was nearly nightfall. The family greeted him warmly and as soon as he was in the door, his attention was drawn to a corner near the fireplace where a newly born babe and his attending mother were resting. Since we haven't a Youtube viral video sent to us thru social media, we'll have to just imagine that Father Mohr was thinking about the Nativity Scene of so long ago that our Christmas observations are framed around.
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?:
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.
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:
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.
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.
I Heard Silent Night Sung In It's Native Language:
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.
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.
It surprised my 20 something mindset when she simply said that she was doing it for herself.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
Christmas Carol Was First Written As A Poem:
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.
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.
By the time he arrived to the cabin it was nearly nightfall. The family greeted him warmly and as soon as he was in the door, his attention was drawn to a corner near the fireplace where a newly born babe and his attending mother were resting. Since we haven't a Youtube viral video sent to us thru social media, we'll have to just imagine that Father Mohr was thinking about the Nativity Scene of so long ago that our Christmas observations are framed around.
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?:
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.
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:
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.
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.
I Heard Silent Night Sung In It's Native Language:
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.
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.
It surprised my 20 something mindset when she simply said that she was doing it for herself.
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.
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 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.
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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