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In the late Twentieth Century, a fictional philosopher - Terence Mann - said, "The one constant through all the years...has been baseball. But had Doctor Mann's
character - a role so eloquently portrayed by James Earl Jones in "The Field of Dreams" - been cast in a more 'Yuletide' setting, he would have certainly said that the one
constant at this time of year, throughout the years it's been around, would be... 'Silent Night'.
Years ago, during a time of strife similar to what many are facing today, I remember seeing the late and beloved Red Skelton end a live television show with a narrative
on the "Pledge of Allegiance", and what the words meant to him, individually, word for word. And as is so often the case, until we hear such a rendition as Skelton's, we
seldom reflect on the meaning of what we've been memorizing over the years. Funny...odd, that is, that the more we commit to memory, the less we think
about what it means.
And so, without adding my meanings to the words, I offer the following, and then a story. Word for word, now...
"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."
Father Joseph Mohr's words, "Stille Nacht...Heilige Nacht" were written - six verses in all - in 1816, and, joined with Franz Gruber's melody in 1818, was first
sung in public at St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf, Austria, on Christmas Eve of that year. They didn't know what they started.
From that point, move the clock forward 96 years. It's now 1914. In mid-summer - in literally a "midsummer night's nightmare", the Archduke of Austria-Hungary
was assassinated in Sarajevo (that's right...Sarajevo...you thinking what I'm thinking?), igniting the nations of Europe (and ultimately others) to pick up arms, and
dictate the chapters of what later would be called "The Great War...The War to End War...World War One".
At the outset, everyone thought they would be home by Christmas - that the war would be over by then. But it kept expanding. The Germans and Austrio-Hungarians were
aiming toward the 'east', against Russia, and toward the 'west' against the forces of France, Belgium, and the British. A two-front war (that's right...a two-front
war...you still thinking what I'm thinking? Deja vu. Yogi lives!).
The United States had not yet entered the war. Winter of 1914 came... Christmas was approaching. On the Western front...barely into France, the Germans and Austrians on
one side, and the British and French on the other ... sometimes only 50 yards apart, in soaking wet, bone-chilling cold trenches dug in the mud. A stalemate, it seemed.
Daily, both sides fired at each other, but no-one was going anywhere...the quagmire of mud was the true enemy.
For centuries, German custom held that the Christmas season was celebrated on Christmas Eve...and...well...Christmas Eve came. Whoever predicted that they would be home
by Christmas, lost the office pool that year. Here's what happened next.
It's Christmas Eve. After sunset. And oh so quiet. Two opposing forces ... bunkered down and dug in ... not shooting ... I suppose they were just wondering ... thinking
... away from home at "The Big One". Indeed, it was "all quiet on the Western front."
All up and down the line, British troops began noticing small candles lit by the German soldiers. And in the night air, someone heard singing...a soft ... stille
nacht...heilige nacht...
...And after several chords of what had become a familiar melody synonymous with peace and tranquillity, everyone caught on, and began singing in English and French and
Hungarian and Low Saxon and Keltic and...well...
White signs went up on both sides with "Merry Christmas" and "Frohe Weihnachten" and "Joyeux Noel" and...well...
One by one, soldiers on both sides laid down their weapons and ventured into a "no man's land" - too many of them to prevent their superior officers from
objecting. In the middle of a war, an undeclared truce broke out ... spontaneously, and against all orders and rules of military combat. Men who were, just a day
earlier, trying to fight the elements, and each other, were now sitting in groups, singing carols...temporarily removed from the reality to which they knew at some point
they must return.
While some groups kept this going well into Christmas Day, for the most part, the celebration ended at midnight, as each side's combatants returned to their mud holes,
and prepared for what would come. Captain C. I. Stockwell, of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers recalled how, after a truly "Silent Night," he fired three shots into the air then
climbed onto his parapet. The officer who had sung with him only hours before, also appeared on the German parapet. They bowed, saluted and climbed back into their
trenches. A few moments afterwards, Stockwell heard the German commander fire two shots into the air and, as he said, "The War was on again."
"It was the best of times ... it was the worst of times ... it was the age of wisdom ... it was the age of foolishness ... it was the epoch of belief ... it was the
epoch of incredulity." In those few short words, Charles Dickens described that period in history known as "The French Revolution". Had Dickens been alive in 1914, he
may very well have used those same words to describe the week surrounding Christmas in the fields of eastern France in 1914, and how for if only one brief moment in time,
there was truly ... A "Silent Night".
Father Mohr...and Herr Gruber, thank you! And, Merry Christmas.
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