A lullaby is defined as a song for lulling a baby to sleep, a cradlesong. The most famous lullaby of all time has to be Silent Night. With the soothing sound so characteristic of all lullabies, Silent Night tenderly describes that quiet peaceful night centuries ago when Jesus Christ was born.
     For over 180 years during the Christmas season that composition of Father Joseph Mohr has helped us focus our attention on the true meaning of Christmas. Other Christmas songs have come and gone, “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” “Jingle Bells,” “Deck the Halls,” and Irvin Berlin’s “White Christmas:” but none have surpassed in popularity nor better expressed the Spirit of Christmas than Silent Night.
     When he composed the six stanzas of Stille Nacht, Joseph Mohr was a twenty-six-year-old Austrian priest ordained for only three years. Franz Gruber then provided the music for two solo voices and a choir that was first performed at a Christmas Mass in 1818 in St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf. It is the lyrics of Father Mohr that I find so compelling. In reality, he puts the infancy narrative of St. Luke into those six stanzas of metered poetry.
     As with Luke’s Gospel, the central figures are the virgin Mother and her newborn child. The scene is one of an island of heavenly peace in a troubled and turbulent world, of an incredible light of radiant beams that penetrate the dark and quiet night. We sing of simple, frightened shepherds who are the first to hear that at long last a Savior has come, a Savior is born. We sing of an angelic choir and its message designed to quiet not only the fears of simple shepherds but the fears of all sinners who question God’s love for them: “You have nothing to fear. I come to proclaim good news to you, tidings of great joy to be shared by all people.”
      The good news is that God, who for centuries was so mysterious, so remote, now has a face, a human face, a face like yours and mine. The Son of God is now the Son of Mary. He has a face that radiates “love’s pure light,” a face that smiles the disarming, captivating smile that only a baby can have. A face that will one day shed tears as well, tears of sorrow for a friend who has died, or for a holy city that refused to accept the source of all holiness.
      The good news which was proclaimed by angels and has echoed for centuries is that with the birth of this child, God got a face and the world got a Savior. The face would be that of a helpless, lovable child, not the face of a fierce potentate whose every frown could instill fear. The next time you sing Father Mohr’s poetic version of Luke’s Gospel account of that beautiful, calm and bright night, I hope and pray that you will experience that same heavenly peace, that bright dawn of redeeming grace, even that glory that streams from heaven afar.
      Those whose families or marriages are torn by dissension can still experience that same heavenly peace by practicing the forgiving, healing love which came from that Holy infant. Those whose lives are ruined by fear can capture that heavenly calm by acquiring the trust which bonded that young mother and her holy infant inseparably in love.
     Just think of it. Think of how many people have sung Mohr’s lullaby at Christmas for over 180 years. Even warring nations have taken time out from death so that battle-weary soldiers could sing its simple words of peace on deadly fields of battle. Weak and weary sinners have drawn courage from its message of hope that earth and heaven, shepherds and angels, man and God, are one again.
      Only a person of faith could have composed Silent Night. Only one who acknowledged the reality of sin could have written about redeeming grace. Only someone who was lost could have written a poem that Christ, the Savior, is born. Only someone who had spent sleepless nights full of fear and anxiety could write a song about restful sleep in heavenly peace. Only a poor person could have immortalized the priceless gift to be found in a manger.
     You see, Father Joseph Mohr had been prepared by life to write the immortal Silent Night. Joseph Mohr was a Catholic priest who brought peace to troubled lives, a man who knew the pain of poverty for most of his life, and a man who suffered the torment of alcoholism. May each of us experience and live our lives in the heavenly peace of that Silent Night, that Holy Night.