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!
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.
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.
When he left to go home it almost dark but the moonlight that shone from the glistening snow and beamed like black diamonds from the brook was light enough to walk through. It was indeed a silent and holy night. Its an easily drawn conclusion that Father Josef Mohr would turn his thoughts toward the Christmas Eve Service he would soon officiate.
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:
Somehow, from those village children the song found it's way to a well known cathedral in Salzburg. From St. Peter's it was heard in Paris. How it landed in London no one now knows but we do know that from London it traveled to the big cities in America. Then to the small, out of the way, towns. You could travel anywhere in North America, a continent spanning three thousand miles across and everywhere, in churches, school plays, homes and office Christmas parties, you'll hear them sing: '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 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!
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:
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.
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.
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.
When he left to go home it almost dark but the moonlight that shone from the glistening snow and beamed like black diamonds from the brook was light enough to walk through. It was indeed a silent and holy night. Its an easily drawn conclusion that Father Josef Mohr would turn his thoughts toward the Christmas Eve Service he would soon officiate.
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:
Somehow, from those village children the song found it's way to a well known cathedral in Salzburg. From St. Peter's it was heard in Paris. How it landed in London no one now knows but we do know that from London it traveled to the big cities in America. Then to the small, out of the way, towns. You could travel anywhere in North America, a continent spanning three thousand miles across and everywhere, in churches, school plays, homes and office Christmas parties, you'll hear them sing: '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 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!
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:
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.
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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