The year is 1818; the day is December 24th—Christmas Eve. Father Joseph Mohr, the priest at the Church of St. Nicholas (how apropos!) in Oberndorf, Austria, is busily preparing his Christmas Eve meditation. Suddenly, Franz Gruber, the church organist, knocks on the door and tells Father Mohr that the church organ is broken. Apparently, rats have gnawed away at the internal leather belts and rendered the instrument useless. “I will try my best to fix it,” Gruber assures him, “but we may have to celebrate Christmas this year without music.”

That afternoon Father Mohr visits the family of a poor woodcutter in the village in order to bless the arrival of a newborn infant. On the way back to the church, Mohr can’t help but compare this birth to that of the tiny babe of Bethlehem, and he begins composing a brief poem in his head.

Meanwhile, the condition of the sanctuary organ is looking hopeless. Gruber has tried everything, and still the instrument will not play. He finally informs Father Mohr that any singing this night will be a cappella.

“What about a guitar?” Mohr asks.

“I’m an organist,” Gruber protests. “I can’t play guitar.”

“Well, surely you know a few chords,” says Mohr.

Gruber admits that he could probably manage a three-chord tune on the guitar, and Mohr begs him to compose a simple melody for the service. To satisfy the priest Gruber agrees, and Father Mohr sits down to write a few stanzas of the poem which has already been stirring in his mind. That same evening at Midnight Mass, Mohr and Gruber teach the people a new carol which Christian congregations have been singing ever since.

Silent night! holy night! All is calm, all is bright;
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child! Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.

Surely God works in mysterious ways. Even out of brokenness, beautiful music can still emerge. And now, as Paul Harvey might intone, you know ... the rest of the story!