st. john's lodge no 2 - The Trestleboard

John P. Hohing – 1/16/2019
Michael A. Hinton – 1/20/2021

Church Mice

Father Joseph Mohr had an emergency on his hands. He's a young priest in a newly created parish. He's not yet accustomed to dealing with last minute crises, everything had been routine, had been minor until now. But now it's December 24. It's Christmas eve.

The little bavarian village of Oberndorf was already cloaked in grey nightfall gently swirling snow. Father Joseph's parishioners were so looking forward to the midnight church service. For them christmas would simply not be christmas unless it was heralded by the choir singing joyful carols accompanied by the chapel organ. That was the problem, the organ or rather the absence of it. For you see, the local school master and church organist, a young fellow named Franz Gruber had come early that evening to rehearse for the midnight service and he'd noticed that there was curiously little resistance as his feet pump the organ pedals and when his fingers touch the keys ...nothing. Not a sound. Further investigation revealed that hungry church mice had nibbled the bellows of the organ no air pressure to feed the pipes and on such short notice repair was out of the question.

So organist Franz reluctantly made the announcement to Father Joseph. In a matter of hours the church would be filled with an eager congregation and then it would be Father Joseph's turn to break the news. Half heartedly, organist Franz mentioned that he also played the guitar. Father Joseph smiled. The magnificent service he had in mind would be incongruously diminished by such feeble accompaniment unless of course Franz would like to write new music for the service. Some music specifically suited to the guitar.

Now Franz was smiling, but Father Joseph was serious. With so little time to work neither could expect a profound and polished finished product but for the sake of a Merry Christmas they would have to do their best.

With the midnight service fast approaching Franz hurried home to get his guitar and some blank staff paper and when he returned to the church Father Joseph handed him a poem of three verses. Father Joseph had written the poem himself. He had actually composed it the day before without knowing how quickly it would become of use.

Franz took the poem began scoring for two solo voices, chorus and guitar accompaniment. The lines of music flowed onto the paper like sacramental wine, perhaps the melody was a bit too naive, a