What Christmas carol has the distinction of being written in its entirety on Christmas Eve?
That would be Silent Night, which sprang from a musical 911 call at St. Nicholas’ Church in Oberndorf, Austria, in 1818.
On December 22, assistant priest Josef Mohr learned that the organ made no noise at all. It was indeed going to be a silent night. Apparently some mice with an appetite for organ cables were the culprits.
Mice are famously hungry for everything.
The house mouse – blessed with the splendid Latin name mus musculus – can live in almost any setting. It doesn’t take a Pied Piper to draw them out. No matter where we go, mice are sure to follow.
It hardly seems possible, but an average-sized mouse can squeeze through a hole that’s only 3/8 of an inch wide. That’s why even well-built homes are no match for a determined mouse when the weather begins to turn cold.
Mice are also extraordinary breeders. Forget dinner and a movie: A female mouse is enthusiastic about motherhood when she’s only six weeks old, and will produce 6-8 offspring every month of her life after that.
A single pair of mice, in other words, could produce one million offspring between now and Christmas of next year. Fortunately, food supplies and mouse mortality levels usually keep things from getting out of hand.
Mice do indeed love cheese. But in truth they will nibble on almost anything. Every year they consume a staggering one-tenth of America’s grain crop.
Back in the days of telephone cables, we lost phone service to our house on more than one occasion because mice were nibbling on our cords. It’s thought that as many as one-fourth of all fires of unexplained origin are caused by rodents chewing on wires.
So how did a few mice help bring about what can only be described as a lasting contribution to our celebration of Christmas?
Josef Mohr had 48 hours to improvise something musical for Christmas Eve. He wrote three stanzas of poetry. Could Gruber write a simple tune? Mohr would play the guitar and the two men would sing together.
Just before the Christmas Eve service they practiced Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht for the first time. Then they performed it for mass, never dreaming that “Silent Night, Holy Night” would have such a lasting impact:
Silent night, Holy night! All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin, mother and child; holy infant, tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.
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.
Silent night, Holy night! Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven above; heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah.
Christ the Savior is born, Christ the Savior is born.
Here’s Josh Groban’s version that captures something of the simple beauty of Gruber’s melody.
Gruber faded into obscurity for the next 30 years, when suddenly he recognized what choirs were calling “the Song from Heaven” as his own. Critics had assumed it was the work of Mozart or Haydn.
And Josef Mohr? He ran afoul of church authorities and was transferred to 12 different parishes over a period of eight years. Among other things, his superiors were irritated that he had introduced guitars into worship – which just goes to show that congregational Worship Committees haven’t changed all that much over the past 200 years.
Thank God for the mice in your life.
Yes, they may chew right through the plans you have for this week.
But that may open the door for some surprises you would never have experienced otherwise.
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