‘Silent Night’ unites humankind in prayer
Olivia Taylor-Young
December 18, 2010
On the Christmas Eve my youngest son was 8, we were on the way home from candlelight services when Santa, complete with red costume and a sack on his back, stepped into the crosswalk as we stopped at a red light. He had a round face and a little round belly; and when we cheered and waved “Merry Christmas,” he sprinted to our car shouting “Ho! Ho! Ho!” and handed out candy canes all around.
“I understand you saw Santa,” my sister kidded our little boy the following day, and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yup, Aunt Margie, I saw him right there on Balboa Street.”
Twenty years later, Santa came to our family on Christmas Eve, not in bright costume, but in the clothing of dearest friends. We’d lost that once-bright-eyed little boy the week after Thanksgiving; aside from the Emergency Room phone call that left me clutching a countertop screaming “No! No! No!”, that holiday season will forever remain a blur of numbness and grief — except for Christmas Eve.
On that special evening, friends arrived bearing not only food and gifts, but their PJs and bathrobes with plans to spend the night. By the warmth and light from the fireplace, and warmed by the light of their love, we had an impromptu pajama party and together watched the classic movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
Like life itself, holiday memories are indefinable blendings of emotions and experiences, joy and sadness, despair and hope. Sad Christmas memories yielded to more happy times spent with those I hold most dear.
Outstanding among these is the year we spent December in Munich, the Christmas capital of Bavaria. At noon on Dec. 24, my husband and I headed for Marienplatz. To our surprise, we found ourselves in the midst of about 5,000 people standing bundled against the cold. We joined the joyous gathering to watch and listen while lederhosen-clad musicians played Alpine Christmas carols from a balcony overlooking the square.
Then came the final carol, as familiar as holly and blessings of peace: Stille Nacht. Heilege Nacht. Silent Night. Holy Night.
And as often happens with well-known melodies at Christmas, everyone began to sing. We joined the chorus — in English — and from across the square we could hear others singing in English with accents different from our own. We heard the sweet sound of French; lilting notes in Italian and Spanish; unfamiliar words of more than one Slavic origin.
Stille Nacht. Heilege Nacht. Silent Night. Holy Night. A harmony of words. A melody divided by language, yet together in verse, sound, and meaning.
And there, for one shining, tear-filled moment, was not only our greatest Christmas gift, but the greatest gift of all our travels, ever. Through the common bond of music we witnessed the ability of people to cross imaginary borders with goodwill as their only passport. It was the voice of humankind united. United in a prayer for peace.
Now more than ever, may that prayer be answered in every language.
Olivia Taylor-Young is a member of the Unitarian-Universalist Church in Eugene, where she sings in the Sanctuary Choir. This column is coordinated by Lane Interfaith Alliance to offer inspiration, share personal spiritual experiences and bring a deeper understanding of individual faith perspectives with the intention of blessing our community and the world. For information, visit www.laneinterfaithalliance.org or call 541-344-0430.