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.
Christmas Carol Was First Written As A Poem:
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 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?:
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
Poignant also because she adored this Christmas tune and yet said she did not believe in God. "God died in the war. They killed Him." Her singing that hymn, on that night, in the way she did, would be something anybody would remember. She's gone now. Home, wherever that is. I don't believe in death... I do believe in circles.
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.
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.
Christmas Carol Was First Written As A Poem:
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 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?:
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
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.
Poignant also because she adored this Christmas tune and yet said she did not believe in God. "God died in the war. They killed Him." Her singing that hymn, on that night, in the way she did, would be something anybody would remember. She's gone now. Home, wherever that is. I don't believe in death... I do believe in circles.
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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