Editor’s Note: I like to revive this story at Christmas because I have so much fun with it. I get to come back to it after a year, update it, rework it, and remember that no matter how tragic 2017 was, there is still silliness in the world.
December in full swing and the Christmas carols are playing on a continuous, incessant, unrelenting loop. From the shopping malls to the coffee shops, the diners to the churches, the first Noel—and the ten-thousandth Noel—ubiquitously haunt the hearing and nervous systems of peoples everywhere. While there only exists a handful of Christmas songs, there are so many versions that each song will be heard dozens of ways and by dozens artists, all trying to add their “spin” to the song.
Yet even in this discordant cacophony of commotion and bedlam, there’s one Christmas carol that stands out above the rest. Probably the most famous carol in history. A song that starts out: “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.”
As carols go, Silent Night seems almost farcical. First of all, let’s look at the song’s setting—the Nativity. Joseph, husband and almost-father, is leading his pregnant wife atop a donkey through a little town in which everyone motel reports “no vacancy.” Bethlehem is full. (As is often the case with Christmas travel, Joseph should have booked ahead.)
Yet all is not lost. Husband and VERY pregnant wife are offered lodging in the only place available, according to the Bethlehem’s No Room at the Inn’s concierge… a barn. Thus beginning the Nativity story and the premise for Silent Night.
Let’s take a closer look at this oft-told tale. The nativity is the story of a teenage girl giving birth to her very first child… in a barn, with hay and animals. Oh! And rats and bats. Without the aid of medical equipment, sterile sponges, or even doctors or nurses.
Anyone who has been lucky enough to experience childbirth, either as the mother or as the partner knows this is not a silent endeavor. Added to Mary’s cries of pain is a barn full of beasts, themselves stressed because of the cries of the mother (who can’t yell at her husband, “You did this to me!”). So we have to assume that the animals are also going to be making a significant amount of noise, conjoining the mother’s screams, and her husband shouting: “Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…”
Down the road, neighbors are wakened by the turmoil, and now they’re creating a hubbub of their own as they stick their heads out the doors and windows in an effort to figure out who’s making that racquet; all the while complaining that they have to get up in the morning and this is the last thing they need on a worknight.
Add to that: Hark the Herald Angles singing the First Noel to shepherds on a hillside field outside of town. The Night Wind calls out to the Little Lamb and asks, “Do you Hear what I Hear?” The Little Lamb, in turn repeats the question to the Shepherd Boy. The Shepherd Boy then questions the King, “Do you know what I know?” Well, the King didn’t, so the Shepherd Boy told him—in song. Now the King makes a proclamation to the people everywhere: “Listen to what I say!”
Meanwhile, back in the stable, the donkey shaggy and brown, brags, “I carried his mother uphill and down, I carried her safely to Bethlehem town.” Not to be outdone, the cow chimes in: “I gave him my manger for a bed.” Now the sheep, the dove, and the camel all declare their own contributions in a bestial episode of one-upmanship.
Enter stage left: the Little Drummer Boy, “pa rum pum pum pum,” bringing his gift to the tiny baby. “I played my best for him,” and a few more pa rum pum pum pums. Now the ox and lamb are keeping time—presumably with their hooves on the wooden floor, only slightly muted by the hay while mice and rats run headlong in every direction to avoid being trampled. (It was dark and the bats work the night shift, so they wouldn’t be back until the morning.)
All throughout the town—there arose such a clatter—that the neighbors are unquestionably awake, and more than likely upset at having their reverie disturbed. By now they’re lighting their torches while looking for the nearest pitchfork. The more furious of the townsfolk are making their way to the barn right now to do some rum pum pum pumming of their own.
Their anger must be tempered though when they see the Three Kings of Orient are, bearing gifts these travelers afar. What star were they following, Onstar? And they have gold! And frankincense and myrrh?(What is frankincense? Seriously, who brings frankincense and myrrh to a baby shower? Have you people ever heard of a gift card?)
Yet, as if it were even possible, the din grows even louder. Here come the Carol of the Bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away. Good Christian Men are rejoicing, calling at the top of their voices, “O Come all ye Faithful.” And while the faithful are making their way, here we come a wassailing among the leaves so green. No wonder Bethlehem is a sleepy little town. Nobody can sleep through the night.
Are you sure this isn’t going to wake the baby?
And there we have it. The Silent Nightmare before Christmas. RIGHT before Christmas, since it would be a year before he officially celebrated his birthday—maybe with some of that frankincense. (Does myrrh pair well with birthday cake?)
So this Christmas try to relax a little and have some fun. Find some humor in those stressful moments, and don’t take life too seriously. After all, it’s not permanent.
P.S. Keep Chet away from an open fire.