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.
The Clergyman, Father Josef Mohr took a journey on foot to visit a family who lived in a cabin high in the mountains. Its recorded that as he walked he became very aware of the beautiful landscape. The blissful silence of the snow covered ground. The dark beauty of the Alpines against the very azure blue sky and the music that sang out from the creeks he first followed then crossed as he made his way to the awaiting family.
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 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.
The Collaboration:
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.
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.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon, mixed with her obvious home sickness drew the Christmas Carol, Silent Night out of her. I had never heard her sing before. She was 53 and I was 24 or 25. I remember thinking about how she had taken up piano lessons and I wondered why someone so old would do something like that! So in my characteristic and sometimes, though not meaning to be, unkindness, I ask her why she was doing that? Because everything in my mind set, following on from a very industrious and utilitarian upbringing as an American, I factored that it was a waste of time unless you were ( I love this next useless phrase) unless you were 'going to do something with it'.
It surprised my 20 something mindset when she simply said that she was doing it for herself.
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 10th, 2013. Christmas Eve is soon here - I'll have to sing to her, this hymn in her mother tongue; I wouldn't want her to think I've forgotten it.
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.
The Clergyman, Father Josef Mohr took a journey on foot to visit a family who lived in a cabin high in the mountains. Its recorded that as he walked he became very aware of the beautiful landscape. The blissful silence of the snow covered ground. The dark beauty of the Alpines against the very azure blue sky and the music that sang out from the creeks he first followed then crossed as he made his way to the awaiting family.
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 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.
The Collaboration:
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.
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.
This gorgeous painting we gazed upon, mixed with her obvious home sickness drew the Christmas Carol, Silent Night out of her. I had never heard her sing before. She was 53 and I was 24 or 25. I remember thinking about how she had taken up piano lessons and I wondered why someone so old would do something like that! So in my characteristic and sometimes, though not meaning to be, unkindness, I ask her why she was doing that? Because everything in my mind set, following on from a very industrious and utilitarian upbringing as an American, I factored that it was a waste of time unless you were ( I love this next useless phrase) unless you were 'going to do something with it'.
It surprised my 20 something mindset when she simply said that she was doing it for herself.
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 10th, 2013. Christmas Eve is soon here - I'll have to sing to her, this hymn in her mother tongue; I wouldn't want her to think I've forgotten it.
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