It's a given that most of the English speaking world has heard both the melody and lyrics of the song, or hymn titled: Amazing Grace but far fewer know how the beloved Christmas Time Carol was conceived of and written. As a video producer, I wish I had been there with todays technology so that I could record an interview from the song's poet and composer. I would like to have that video production because the story I'm going to relay here is just one of the many versions told about this hymn.
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.
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 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 Exactly Did Happen In Father Josef Mohr's Afternoon Of Absence?
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.
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:
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.
How Did Silent Night Travel Out To The World:
Somehow, Silent Night went from the children to the then big city of Salzburg, in fact, to it's most prominent cathedral, by name, St. Peter's. How exactly, we don't know, but then it was heard in Paris. It didn't stop there, it arrived in London one Christmas time and it did as many had, it immigrated to America! First the big cities, then the small and even the tiny hamlets of America. You can go anywhere in the entire continent of North America, and you can count on hearing this darling hymn during the holiday festivities. 'SIlent Night...Holy Night...All is Calm, All is Bright.'
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 beauty, both inside and out. Soft focused blue eyes with slightly curly, shoulder length hair...now greying. She had some endearing nervous habits like slightly chewing the inside of her cheek and a funny way of stroking her forefinger and her thumb together, around and over and then back again. She was a very astute thinker and to her belongs the credit that I read some of the world's greatest philosophers. Under her tutorage doors to the world of arts and literature were opened wide to my thirsty soul. It was thru her I also first listened to Opera; Puccini's famed' Madame Butterfly', to be exact. It was most especially touching that while not believing in God, she was very interested in my passionate love of Biblical text and my understanding of it's primitive origins.
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.
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 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 Exactly Did Happen In Father Josef Mohr's Afternoon Of Absence?
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.
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:
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.
How Did Silent Night Travel Out To The World:
Somehow, Silent Night went from the children to the then big city of Salzburg, in fact, to it's most prominent cathedral, by name, St. Peter's. How exactly, we don't know, but then it was heard in Paris. It didn't stop there, it arrived in London one Christmas time and it did as many had, it immigrated to America! First the big cities, then the small and even the tiny hamlets of America. You can go anywhere in the entire continent of North America, and you can count on hearing this darling hymn during the holiday festivities. 'SIlent Night...Holy Night...All is Calm, All is Bright.'
When My Austrian Friend Sang Silent Night To Me:
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 beauty, both inside and out. Soft focused blue eyes with slightly curly, shoulder length hair...now greying. She had some endearing nervous habits like slightly chewing the inside of her cheek and a funny way of stroking her forefinger and her thumb together, around and over and then back again. She was a very astute thinker and to her belongs the credit that I read some of the world's greatest philosophers. Under her tutorage doors to the world of arts and literature were opened wide to my thirsty soul. It was thru her I also first listened to Opera; Puccini's famed' Madame Butterfly', to be exact. It was most especially touching that while not believing in God, she was very interested in my passionate love of Biblical text and my understanding of it's primitive origins.
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.
About the Author:
Thank you for reading and I hope you'll connect with me if you have anything to contribute or perhaps have questions regarding this wonderful tool that video production has become in serving our efforts to advertise and market our products and services. Please visit our website.
No comments:
Post a Comment