On Christmas Eve in 1914, the first year of World War I, a strange quiet settled on the western front. It was a welcome respite for a group of lonely English soldiers who had become all too familiar with the sounds of cannons and rifles. As they reclined in their trenches, each man began to speculate about the activities of loved ones back home.
“My parents are just finishing Christmas dinner,” one of them said. “My family will soon be walking over to church to hear the choir concert,” another whispered. They sat there for several moments, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, someone said, “You know, this is eerie, but I can almost hear the choir singing now.”
“So can I,” shouted a third soldier. “I think there’s music coming from the other side.” Everyone scrambled to the edge of the trench. To their astonishment, what they heard was a few sturdy German voices singing Martin Luther’s beautiful carol: “From heav’n above to earth I come, to bear good news to every one.”
When the hymn was over, the English soldiers sat quietly. Then a large man with a powerful voice broke into the chorus of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Before he had sung three bars, a dozen voices from the regiment had joined with him.
Once again there was an interlude of calm until a German tenor began to sing Stille Nacht. This time the carol was sung in two languages, a chorus of nearly a hundred soldiers echoing back and forth between the trenches: “Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright ....”
“Someone is approaching!” a sentry shouted, and attention focused on a single German soldier who walked toward them, waving a white cloth with one hand and holding several bars of chocolate in the other. Slowly, men from both sides eased out into the neutral zone and began to greet one another. In the wonder of those moments, each soldier shared what he had—candy, cigarettes, even a bit of brandy. But most important, they showed each other the battered, yet still treasured, photographs they carried of loved ones.
On Christmas, men from both sides again joined together and had a small worship service. Then, as quietly as they had assembled, the soldiers returned to their own trenches. In a few days, the cannons and rifles once more boomed across “no man’s land.”
For some, however, it was never quite the same. The enemy was no longer a stranger. Now, they were people they knew face-to-face. Though brief, there had been a moment—a miraculous moment—when the true meaning of Christ’s birth had dawned on them, drawing hostile forces together and giving weary soldiers at least a taste of peace and good will.
As we enter the Season of Advent, my hope is that each of us may catch a glimpse of the peace and promise the Christ makes possible!
“My parents are just finishing Christmas dinner,” one of them said. “My family will soon be walking over to church to hear the choir concert,” another whispered. They sat there for several moments, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, someone said, “You know, this is eerie, but I can almost hear the choir singing now.”
“So can I,” shouted a third soldier. “I think there’s music coming from the other side.” Everyone scrambled to the edge of the trench. To their astonishment, what they heard was a few sturdy German voices singing Martin Luther’s beautiful carol: “From heav’n above to earth I come, to bear good news to every one.”
When the hymn was over, the English soldiers sat quietly. Then a large man with a powerful voice broke into the chorus of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Before he had sung three bars, a dozen voices from the regiment had joined with him.
Once again there was an interlude of calm until a German tenor began to sing Stille Nacht. This time the carol was sung in two languages, a chorus of nearly a hundred soldiers echoing back and forth between the trenches: “Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright ....”
“Someone is approaching!” a sentry shouted, and attention focused on a single German soldier who walked toward them, waving a white cloth with one hand and holding several bars of chocolate in the other. Slowly, men from both sides eased out into the neutral zone and began to greet one another. In the wonder of those moments, each soldier shared what he had—candy, cigarettes, even a bit of brandy. But most important, they showed each other the battered, yet still treasured, photographs they carried of loved ones.
On Christmas, men from both sides again joined together and had a small worship service. Then, as quietly as they had assembled, the soldiers returned to their own trenches. In a few days, the cannons and rifles once more boomed across “no man’s land.”
For some, however, it was never quite the same. The enemy was no longer a stranger. Now, they were people they knew face-to-face. Though brief, there had been a moment—a miraculous moment—when the true meaning of Christ’s birth had dawned on them, drawing hostile forces together and giving weary soldiers at least a taste of peace and good will.
As we enter the Season of Advent, my hope is that each of us may catch a glimpse of the peace and promise the Christ makes possible!
posted by Dr. Robert Crilley at
2:07 PM
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