With Christmas just a couple of days away, here is the last of my Christmas stories that I will share with you this year. My hope is that you have found as much joy in receiving these tales as it has been for me searching them out and sharing them with you.
Sadly the young priest strolled through the snow covered slopes above the village of Oberndof, Austria. In a just a day it would be Christmas Eve, but, despite the nearness of the joyous holy day, Fr. Joseph Mohr felt overwhelmed with sadness. The source of his condition was the fact that there would be no music in his church to herald the birth of the Christ child. The church organ had broken down.
Pausing with a sigh, Fr. Mohr gazed upon the scattered lights of his village below. The sight of the peaceful town, huddled warmly in the foothills, stirred his imagination. Surely he thought, it was on such a clear and quiet night as this that the heavenly host of angels sang out the glorious news that a Savior had been born for all of us who is Messiah and Lord!
The young pastor’s shoulders drooped with the weight of his dilemma as he mumbled to himself, “If only we here in Obernof could celebrate the birth of Jesus with glorious music like the shepherds on that wonderful night!”
Standing there, Fr. Mohr’s mind filled with visions of that first Christmas. Suddenly, he became aware that the sadness and disappointment he was feeling was fading from his heart; in its place surged great joy. Vividly, he saw the manger, carved from the mountainside; he saw Mary and Joseph and the Child; he saw the strangers who had been attracted by the light of the great star. The image seemed to shape itself into the words of a poem. Fr. Mohr quickly grasped the notebook and pencil he always carried with him and jotted down the verses as they flowed like a cascading waterfall from his heart and soul.
The next day Fr. Mohr showed his poem to Franz Gruber, the church organist, who read the words and marveled. “These words should be sung at Christmas. But what can we use for accompaniment? This?” Glumly, he held up his guitar.
Father Mohr replied, “Like Mary and Joseph in the stable, we must be content with what God provides for us.”
Frantz Gruber studied the poem, then softly strummed the melody that came to him. Next he put the words to the melody and sang them. When he finished, his soul was ablaze with its beauty.
On Christmas Eve, 1818, in a small Austrian village, the Oberndof choir, accompanied only by a guitar, sang for the first time the immortal Christmas hymn that begins:
“Silent Night…Holy Night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon Virgin Mother and Child. Holy Infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.”
It was that ethereal night
when a matchless star stood glowing in the East,
trailing a man, a woman, a burdened beast.
It was that incredible night
when an innkeeper became the first to say:
“I have no room for you this day.”
It was that incomparable night
when Gabriel came ecstatic to the earth,
proclaiming glad tidings of a royal birth.
It was that immortal night
when a caring God reached gently down to lay,
His supreme gift, Love, upon the hay. – Fred Bauer
I wish you all a Blessed, Merry, and AWE-Full Christmas!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué