In 1818, a few days before Christmas, Josef Mohr, the assistant pastor of a small Austrian village church, decided to walk a longer route home from the church than usual. He was pondering the Christmas story as told by the gospel writers Matthew and Luke. He was also trying to solve a problem. The church organ was broken and would not be repaired until after Christmas. The evening’s route took him by way of a hilltop, and he stopped to look over the calm, snow-covered village of Obendorf. It reminded him of a poem he had written a couple of years earlier, and he wondered if it might make a good carol for them to sing at the Christmas Eve service the following evening. The problem was that he had no music to sing the poem. So the following day, he saw the church organist, Franz Gruber, and asked him if he could set the poem to music. With only a few hours to accomplish the task, Gruber composed a simple melody that could be played by guitar. That evening, the small congregation heard, for the first time, the Christmas carol, Silent Night, sung by Gruber and Mohr, accompanied by Gruber’s guitar.
The irony of the carol is that the scene of Jesus’ birth was likely anything but silent. While the traditional storytelling says there was no room for Mary and Joseph in the local Bethlehem Inn, they were more likely staying in a relative’s home. Since as Luke says, everyone was required to return to their ancestral home, the house was full. Most homes in those days were maybe two or, at most, three rooms, and at night, it was common to bring their animals into the house with them. That explains why Mary and Joseph placed their newborn baby in a feed trough, called a manger in the Christmas story. Having been on the scene when our four children were born, I can testify that at least that part of the evening was not silent. I can also imagine that the farm animals were not too happy to be disturbed from their rest, and I suspect that the other women in the household were scrambling to help this first-time mother give birth to her child. Probably not a silent night.
I don’t know if Jesus was a colicky baby or if he slept well. I know he was a normal baby, so Mary and Joseph did not get much sleep during those first few weeks, and the nights were not silent.
Of course, our world today and likely your personal world are anything but silent. Technology has trained us to be constantly on the alert. Listening for text messages and other notifications. It is not only Siri, Alexa and Google listening for their trigger words in your house. Demands on our time and finances bombard us. The world moves at warp speed. We hope for silence, but when we have silence, we don’t know what to do with it.
In many ways, I think that the carol, Silent Night, encapsulates our desire for serenity and peace. But we often look in the wrong place for that peace. I think that it is human nature to look for peace in circumstances. We believe that if things around us improve, we will feel better. If the world is more peaceful, then we will feel peaceful. The problem is that the world around us does not seem to be getting more peaceful. It appears to be getting less peaceful.
Jesus tells his disciples, “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.” (Mark 13:7, NIV)
When we look around, it is easy to get alarmed. The war in Ukraine, the wars in the Middle East, massive government debt, threatened tariffs, terrorism, credit card bills, and the erosion of our Christian liberties rob us of our sense of peace. Our world is anything but silent.
Sometimes, we also look to our personalities or self-discipline to find peace. Have you ever said, “This shouldn’t bother me.” or “I just need to keep focussed.” If we can’t blame the world for our lack of peace, we blame ourselves. But our personality is never stable enough, and our discipline is never strong enough.
Thankfully, Silent Night reminds us there is another option. In fact, it is the only option that brings peace. Peace cannot be found in external circumstances or our internal strength. It can only be found in a person—the person who is at the center of the silent night.
Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27, NIV)
Paul, an early Christian convert, writes about Jesus, saying, “For he himself is our peace” (Ephesians 2:14a, NIV). Paul is saying that Jesus not only gives us peace but that Jesus himself IS our peace. So how can a person be our peace?
There is an expression that frequently occurs in the New Testament. It is an expression that we, as believers, are “in Christ.” It means that we experience the world from a location inside Christ. Our location is the key determiner of our perspective. If you were in a war, your experience of that war would be different if you were IN a bomb shelter or IN a field. When it is raining, my experience is different: if I am IN my house or I am IN my yard. What or who you are IN makes a profound difference in your experience.
Paul writes, “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7, NIV)
Do you notice he says that peace comes “in Christ?”
We don’t experience peace in our circumstances or self-discipline. We experience peace in Christ. It means we can view and understand our lives and experiences differently because of our location in Christ.
Once again, Paul writes, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17, NIV)
Being in Christ is like coming in from the storm. If you are in Christ, the storm still rages outside, but in Christ, you are secure and have peace.
While circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth may not have been the silent night that Josef Mohr imagined, a life lived in Christ can be characterized by the peace that passes all understanding. As the ancient prophet Isaiah predicted and declared, Jesus is the Prince of Peace. If you do not know the bringer of peace this Christmas season, I urge you to reach out to him, invite him into your life, and he will bring you into his peace.
