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:
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.
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.
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?:
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 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.
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:
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.
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!
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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?:
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 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.
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:
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.
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!
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.
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.
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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