Peaceful Night, Holy Night

One of the songs we like to sing at Christmas time, especially at Christmas eve candle-light services, is Silent Night.

The three verses traditionally sung in English go

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.

Silent Night! Holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight,
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia;
Christ, the Savior, is born!
Christ, the Savior, is born!

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!

At first listen/read, the song appears to be about the peaceful quietness of the holy night when Jesus was born. Yet, if you know anything about a child being born, the appointed time was most likely neither quiet nor peaceful.

You might already know the story of Silent Night’s origin (a poem written by Josef Mohr and put to music by Franz Xaver Gruber in Salzburg, Austria, 1818). You can read a simple account here, but the main point is that its debut did not go as planned. Music for that evening’s Christmas Eve service was meant to be accompanied by the church’s majestic organ, but then the organ stopped working. Working quickly, the duo fashioned a piece that could be performed with a simple guitar and their two voices. And the rest is history.

I find deep Advent meaning in these high intentions brought low. The same way Jesus’ first night as a human was neither silent nor peaceful, Silent Night’s first night was neither majestic nor “successful.” Expectations dashed, but made all the more potent in their apparent weakness.

With the end of verse three, we see a transition. The night is almost over. And now the Day dawns with redeeming grace.

The night Jesus was born was not silent, but I believe it was holy. It was a night set apart for God’s amazing purpose. Indeed, I often wonder if the “silent night” speaks more of Christ’s quiet incarnation into the womb of a virgin. We know that Scripture that Mary was a good one for silent reflection. Luke says, “she treasured all these things in her heart.” How many quiet nights did it take to form her great song of holy revolution and worship she sang when greeting her cousin, Elizabeth?

And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
    and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
    For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
    and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
    from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
    he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
    and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
    and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
    in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
    to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
(Luke 1:46-55)

We can only imagine the isolation, fear, and doubt Mary must have experienced after hearing the Angel’ Gabriel’s astonishing promise. And yet, she chose peace, saying, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38). 

Author Hannah Brencher writes,

“Silent nights don't happen by accident. We have to forge them. We have to create them in the depths of our souls. Even if the silent nights only last five minutes before the noise appears again, I know they have the power to change absolutely everything about our inner lives.”

We know that when Jesus was grown, he was especially intentional about finding times for solitude and peace. I wonder if he learned that practice from his mother. For I truly believe, after reading Mary’s song, that she trusted the result of all this (the fear, doubt, uncertainty, upheaval, persecution, and death) would be a peace beyond understanding.

One final thought:

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!

We sing the third line without blinking an eye, but “radiant beams from thy holy face!”
That’s a lot of holiness. 

In Numbers, priest Aaron blesses the people of God with these words:

"The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance[c] upon you and give you peace."
(Numbers 6:24-26)

To have God shine His face on you was a gift of His peace.

In her book, Journey to the Manger, author Paula Gooder reflects on God’s timing with the Annunciation:

“[Gabriel’s words] remind us of God’s presence at key points in His people’s history: intervening, shaping, and saving those He loved. Just as He intervened to give Abraham a son and to provide leaders like Samson and Samuel, so again God was intervening in history to remind the people that the Lord was with them. This time, however, the Lord was with them in a way far more profound than ever before.” (p. 61)

And how did God choose to intervene?
He not only sent His Son to show people the way of peace, but to embody the way of Peace. At His very birth, on that “silent and holy night” Jesus held the power of God’s pure light and peace.

With the heavenly hosts, let us sing, “Alleluia!”