This Christmas season, we are talking about “rejoicing in a weary world.” That idea was inspired by the line from “O, Holy Night” that says, “A thrill the of hope, the weary world rejoices.” That line was used to describe the birth of Jesus. It was also inspired by 2020, which has made us all weary…
“O, Holy Night” has a really cool backstory that reminds me about how God often chooses the most unlikely people to accomplish His mission. Much like He used an obscure engaged couple from a small village called Nazareth, some blue-collar shepherds, and an empty stable in the birth of the Messiah, the writing of “O, Holy Night” is full of surprises.
The story began in France but eventually made its way around the world. This simple song, inspired by a request from a clergyman, would not only become one of the most beloved anthems of all time, but it would also mark a technological revolution that would forever change the way people were introduced to music.
In 1847, Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure was the commissionaire of wines in a small French town. He was more known for his poetry than his church attendance, so it probably shocked Placide when his parish priest asked him to write a poem for Christmas mass. Nevertheless, the poet was honored to share his talents with the church.
While he was traveling to France’s capital city, Cappeau thought about the priest’s request. Using the gospel of Luke as his guide, Cappeau imagined what it would have been like to witness the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Thoughts of being present on the blessed night inspired him. By the time he arrived in Paris, “Cantique de Noel” was completed.
Moved by his own work, Cappeau decided that his “Cantique de Noel” should not be just a poem but a song. Not musically inclined himself, the poet turned to one of his friends, Adolphe Charles Adams, for help.
The son of a well-known classical musician, Adolphe had studied in the Paris conservatory. His talent and fame brought requests to write works for orchestras and ballets all over the world. But the lyrics that his friend Cappeau gave him surely was a challenge to the composer because he did not celebrate Christmas.
As a man of Jewish ancestry, the words of “Cantique de Noel” represented a day Adolphe didn’t celebrate and a man he did not view as the Son of God. Regardless, Adams quickly went to work, attempting to compose an original score to Cappeau’s beautiful words. Adams’ finished work pleased both the poet and the priest. The song was performed just three weeks later at a Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.
Initially, “Cantique de Noel” was wholeheartedly accepted by the church in France, and the song quickly found its way into various Catholic Christmas services. But when Cappeau walked away from the church and became a part of the socialist movement and church leaders discovered that Adolphe Adams was a Jew, the song—which had quickly grown to be one of the most beloved Christmas songs in France—was suddenly and uniformly denounced by the church. The heads of the French Catholic church of the time deemed “Cantique de Noel” as unfit for church services because of its lack of musical taste and “total absence of the spirit of religion.” Yet even as the church tried to bury the Christmas song, the French people continued to sing it, and a decade later an American writer brought it to a whole new audience halfway around the world.
This writer, John Sullivan Dwight, felt that this wonderful Christmas song needed to be introduced to America because he saw something in the song that moved him beyond the story of the birth of Christ. An ardent abolitionist, Dwight strongly identified with the lines of the third verse: “Truly he taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother; And in His name, all oppression shall cease.” The text supported Dwight’s own view of slavery in the South. Published in his magazine, Dwight’s English translation of “O, Holy Night” quickly found favor in America, especially in the North during the Civil War.
Adams had been dead for many years, and Cappeau and Dwight were both old men, when on Christmas Eve 1906, Reginald Fessenden—a 33-year-old university professor and former chief chemist for Thomas Edison—did something long thought impossible. Using a new type of generator, Fessenden spoke into a microphone and, for the first time in history, a man’s voice was broadcast over the airwaves: “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed,” he began in a clear, strong voice, hoping he was reaching across the distances he supposed he would.
Shocked radio operators on ships and astonished wireless owners at newspapers sat stunned as their normal, coded impulses, heard over tiny speakers, were interrupted by a professor reading from the gospel of Luke. To the few who caught this broadcast, it must have seemed like a miracle, hearing a voice somehow transmitted to those far away. Some might have believed they were hearing the voice of an angel.
Fessenden was probably unaware of the sensation he was causing on ships and in offices; he couldn’t have known that men and women were rushing to their wireless units to catch this Christmas Eve miracle. After finishing his recitation of the birth of Christ, Fessenden picked up his violin and played “O, Holy Night,” the first song ever sent through the air via radio waves. When the carol ended, so did the broadcast—but not before music had found a new medium that would take it around the world.
Since that first rendition at a small Christmas mass in 1847, “O , Holy Night” has been sung millions of times in churches in every corner of the world. And since the moment a handful of people first heard it played over the radio, the carol has gone on to become one of the entertainment industry’s most recorded and played spiritual songs. This incredible work, requested by a forgotten parish priest, written by a poet who would later split from the church, given music by a Jewish composer, and brought to Americans to serve as much as a tool to spotlight the sinful nature of slavery as tell the story of the birth of a Savior, has become one of the most beautiful, inspired pieces of music ever created.
And to me, that’s part of the story of Christmas, something worth rejoicing about, that God works in incredible and unforeseen ways in your life and mine to make a difference in our world. I hope you enjoy the wonder of Christmas this December and make yourself available to God in the coming year.