Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas

by Ace Collins

  In its original form, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” was known as a song of the “Great Antiphons” or “Great O’s.” The initial Latin text, framed in the original seven different verses, represented the different biblical views of the Messiah. One verse per day was sung or chanted during the last seven days before Christmas.

  Much more than the very simple, almost monotone melody employed at the time, the words painted a rich illustration of the many biblical prophesies fulfilled by Christ’s birth. So the story of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is really a condensed study of the Bible’s view of the Messiah—who he was, what he represented and why he had to come to Earth. Even to this day, if one is a proficient Bible student, the song’s lyrics reveal the unfolding story of the Messiah.

  For the people of the Dark Ages—few of whom read or had access to the Bible—the song was one of the few examples of the full story of how the New and Old Testament views of the Messiah came together in the birth and life of Jesus. Because it brought the story of Christ the Savior to life during hundreds of years of ignorance and darkness, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” ranks as one of the most important songs in the history of the Christian faith.

  The song owes its worldwide acceptance to a man named John Mason Neale. Born on January 24, 1818, this Anglican priest was educated at Trinity College in Cambridge. Brilliant, a man who could write and speak more than twenty languages, he should have been destined for greatness. Yet many feared his intelligence and insight. At the time, church leaders thought he was too evangelical, too progressive, and too much a freethinker to be allowed to influence the masses. So rather than get a pastorate in London, Neale was sent by the church to the Madiera Islands off the northwest coast of Africa. Pushed out of the spotlight and given the position of warden in an all but forgotten locale, it was expected that he and his ideas would never again find root in England. Yet Neale refused to give up on God or his own calling. On a salary of just twenty-seven pounds a year he established the Sisterhood of St. Margaret. From this order he began an orphanage, a school for girls, and a house of refuge for prostitutes. And these noble ministries were just the beginning.

  When he wasn’t ministering to those who could truly be called “the least of these,” the often frail and sickly Neale reviewed every facet of Scripture and Scripture-based writing he could find. It was during these studies that he came across the Latin chant, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” in a book called Psalteroium Cantionum Catholicarum. Seizing on the importance of the song’s inspired text, Neale translated the words into English. Interestingly, in his initial work, the lyrics began, “Draw nigh, draw nigh, Emmanuel.”

  The tune that went with Neale’s translation had been used for some years in Latin text versions of the song. “Veni Emmanuel” was a fifteenth century processional that originated in a community of French Franciscan nuns living in Lisbon, Portugal. Neale’s translation of the lyrics coupled with “Veni Emmanuel” was first published in the 1850s in England. Within twenty-five years, Neale’s work, later cut to five verses and called “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” grew in popularity throughout Europe and America.

  Although sung countless times each Christmas, much of the song’s rich meaning seems to have been set aside or lost. While both men—the ancient monk and the exiled priest—would probably be amazed that any still remember their work, the fact that few realize the full impact of the words would no doubt disappoint them greatly. After all, to sing a song and not feel the power and majesty of its meaning trivializes both the music and the lyrics.

  O come, o come, Emmanuel,

  And ransom captive Israel,

  That mourns in lonely exile here

  Until the Son of God appear.

  Chorus:

  Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

  Shall come to thee, O Israel.

  O come, thou rod of Jesse, free

  Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;

  From depths of hell thy people save

  And give them vict’ry o’er the grave

  Chorus

  O come, O Dayspring, come and cheer

  Our spirits by thine advent here;

  And drive away the shades of night

  And pierce the clouds and bring us light.

  Chorus

  O come, Thou Key of David, come

  And open wide our heavenly home

  Make safe the way that leads on high

  And close the path to misery.

  Chorus

  O come, O come, Adonai,

  Who in thy glorious majesty

  From Sinai’s mountain, clothes in awe,

  Gavest thy folk the elder law.

  Chorus

  The first verse of the song is taken from Isaiah 7:14 and Matthew 1:23. It introduces Emmanuel—“God with us”—and Israel as a symbol for the Christian world, held captive on a dark and sinful Earth.

  Isaiah 11 serves as the theme for the verse that begins “O come, thou rod of Jesse, free” (in some translations this is called the “Branch of Jesse”). In it the rod of Jesse represents Christ, who is the only one who can defeat Satan and bring eternal life to all those who follow him.

  “O come, O Dayspring, come and cheer” presents the image of the morning star, a concept that can be traced back to Malachi 4:2. In this verse, the song states that the coming Savior will bring justice, honesty, and truth. He will enlighten and cast out darkness. As Malachi promises: “The sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.”

  The lyrics then turn to “O come, thou key of David,” a reference to Isaiah 22:22. The words in this verse explain that the newborn King holds the key to the heavenly kingdom and there is no way to get into the kingdom but through him.

  The verse that begins “O come, O come, Adonai” (in some texts this reads “O come, thou wisdom from on high”) centers on the source of true wisdom. This comes only from God through his Son. Through the Savior, this wisdom can reach around the world and bring peace and understanding to all men. Thus, Christ’s teachings and examples fulfilled all Old Testament prophesies.

  Even today, when sung in a public hall by a small group of carolers or during a television special, the original chants of long forgotten monks can almost be heard. Although translated into scores of languages and sung in a wild variety of styles and arrangements, the simplistic yet spiritual nature of the song remains intact. It is reverent, a tribute to not only the birth of God’s child but also to the fulfillment of God’s promise to deliver his children from the world. In this simple but brilliant song, the echoed voices of clerics from the past gently urge today’s world to accept and worship the King who fulfills God’s greatest promise to his children.

  22

  O HOLY NIGHT

  The strange and fascinating story of “O Holy Night” began in France, yet eventually made its way around the world. This seemingly simple song, inspired by a request from a clergyman, would not only become one of the most beloved anthems of all time, it would 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. Known more for his poetry than his church attendance, it probably shocked Placide when his parish priest asked the commissionaire to pen a poem for Christmas mass. Nevertheless, the poet was honored to share his talents with the church.

  In a dusty coach traveling down a bumpy road to France’s capitol city, Cappeau considered the priest’s request. The poem obviously had to be religious, focus on Christmas, and be based on Scripture. Using the gospel of Luke as his guide, Cappeau imagined witnessing the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Thoughts of being present on the blessed night inspired him. By the time the commissionaire arrived in Paris, the poem “Cantique de Noel” had been completed.

  Moved by his own work, Cappeau determined that his “Cantique de Noel” was not just a poem, but a song in need of a master musician’s hand. Not musically inclined himself, the poet turned t
o one of his friends, Adolphe Charles Adams, for help.

  Adolphe, born in 1803, was five years older than Cappeau. The son of a well-known classical musician, Adolphe had studied at the Paris Conservatoire. By 1829 he had produced his first one-act opera, Pierre et Catherine. He followed this success with Richard en Palestine. Adams then scored acclaim with ballets such as Faust, La Fille du Danube, and La Jolie Fille de Gand. His talent and fame brought requests to write works for orchestras and ballets all around the world. Yet the lyrics that his friend Cappeau gave him must have challenged the composer in a fashion unlike anything he had received from London, Berlin, or St. Petersburg.

  As Adolphe studied “Cantique de Noel,” he couldn’t help but note its overtly spiritual lyrics embracing the birth of a Savior. A man of Jewish ancestry, these words represented a holiday he didn’t celebrate and a man he did not view as the Son of God. Nevertheless, moved by more than friendship, Adams quickly and diligently went to work, attempting to marry an original score to Cappeau’s beautiful words. Adams’s finished work pleased both poet and priest. It was performed just three weeks later at a midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Neither the wine commissionaire nor the composer was prepared for what happened next.

  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 Placide 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 a reclusive American writer brought it to a whole new audience halfway around the world.

  Born May 13, 1813, in Boston, John Sullivan Dwight was a graduate of Harvard College and Divinity school. He became a Unitarian minister in Northampton, Massachusetts, but for inexplicable reasons grew physically ill each time he had to address his congregation. These panic attacks magnified to such an extent that Dwight often locked himself in his home, scared to venture out in public. It soon became obvious he would be unable to continue in the ministry.

  Gifted and bright, Dwight sought other ways to use his talent. An accomplished writer, he used his skills to found Dwight’s Journal of Music. For three decades he quietly edited the publication. Although he couldn’t face crowds of people, some of the most gifted musicians and music lovers in the Northeast were inspired by his confident writing. As he looked for new material to review, Dwight read “Cantique de Noel” in French. The former minister quickly fell in love with the carol’s haunting lyrics.

  Not only did Dwight feel that this wonderful Christmas song needed to be introduced to America, he saw something else in the song that moved him beyond the story of the birth of Christ. An ardent abolitionist, Dwight strongly identified with the lines, “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. The writer believed that Christ came to free all men, and in this song all men would be confronted with the fact.

  O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;

  It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth!

  Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

  Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

  A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,

  For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

  Chorus:

  Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!

  O night divine, O night when Christ was born!

  O night, O holy night, O night divine!

  Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,

  With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.

  So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,

  Here came the wise men from Orient land.

  The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,

  In all our trials born to be our friend!

  Chorus

  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.

  Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

  Let all within us praise His holy Name!

  Chorus

  Keeping the original meaning intact, Dwight translated the lyrics into a hauntingly beautiful English text. Published in his magazine and in several songbooks of the period, “O Holy Night” quickly found favor in America, especially in the North during the Civil War.

  Back in France, even though the song had been banned from the church for almost two decades, many commoners still sang “Cantique de Noel” at home. Legend has it that on Christmas Eve 1871, in the midst of fierce fighting between the armies of Germany and France during the Franco-Prussian War, a French soldier suddenly jumped out of his muddy trench. Both sides stared at the seemingly crazed man. Boldly standing with no weapon in his hands or at his side, he lifted his eyes to the heavens and sang, “Minuit, chrétiens, C’est l’heure solennelle Où l’Homme Dieu descendit jusqu’à nous,” the beginning of “Cantique de Noel.”

  After completing all three verses, a German infantryman climbed out of his hiding place and answered with, “Vom Himmel hoch, da komm’ ich her. Ich bring’ euch gute neue Mär, Der guten Mär bring’ ich so viel, Davon ich sing’n und sagen will,” the beginning of Martin Luther’s robust “From Heaven above to Earth I Come.”

  The story goes that the fighting stopped for the next twenty-four hours while the men on both sides observed a temporary peace in honor of Christmas day. Perhaps this story had a part in the French church once again embracing “Cantique de Noel” as being worthy of inclusion in holiday services.

  Adams had been dead for many years and Cappeau and Dwight were old men when on Christmas Eve 1906, Reginald Fessenden—a thirty-three-year-old university professor in Pittsburgh 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 slack-jawed 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 turned into electrical waves and 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 know that men and women were rushing to their wireless units to catch this Christmas Eve miracle. Yet 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. Total sales for the thousands of different ve
rsions of the carol are in the tens of millions. This incredible work—requested by a forgotten parish priest, written by a poet who would later split from the church, given soaring 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 grown to become one of the most beautiful, inspired pieces of music ever created.

  23

  O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM

  On December 24, 1865, Phillips Brooks was a half a world away from home and feeling like an older man than his thirty years. Already recognized as one of the most dynamic Christian voices in America, it was Brooks, only six years into his ministry, who had been called upon in May to give the funeral message over President Abraham Lincoln. That solemn honor, in tandem with leading the congregation of Philadelphia’s Holy Trinity Church through the bloody years of the Civil War, had taken its toll. Worn out and badly needing a spiritual rebirth, Brooks took a sabbatical and left the United States to tour the Middle East.

  On Christmas Eve in Jerusalem, the American felt an urge to get away from the hundreds of other pilgrims who had journeyed to the Holy Land for the holidays. Although warned that he might encounter thieves, the preacher borrowed a horse and set out across the desolate and unforgiving countryside. For many peaceful hours he was alone with his thoughts as he studied a land that had changed little since the days of Paul and Timothy. For the minister, December 24 was a wonderful time of prayer and meditation.