BY JEFF CORBETT

For my Christmas column this year, I’m doing something different.

I subscribe to a weekly email from minister and author Steve May, who provides sermon illustrations and leadership resources for pastors.

Several weeks ago, I received his email with a story that moved me greatly. Rather than me trying to paraphrase or summarize it for you, I contacted Steve for his permission to share what he had written, and he graciously agreed.

Here it is:

An Innocent Outcast

A few days before Christmas 1792, in the city of Salzburg Austria, a young unmarried seamstress named Anna gave birth to her third child. The father had disappeared from Anna’s life months before, leaving her all alone and destitute.

In those days, unwed pregnancy not only came with cultural shame, it came with a fine as well. It could be more than a year’s wages for a common laborer, so it was far more than a woman like Anna could possibly pay.

This meant the boy could not be baptized, which meant his rights as a citizen would be severely restricted.

Also in those days, children born in such circumstances were often deserted and left to die, but Anna had no such intention of doing this. Instead, she planned to raise her son on her own as best she could.

There was a man in the city of Salzburg by the name of Joseph Wolhmuth. He was well-to-do, but not exactly well-liked. In fact, he was the local executioner — a hangman. Though the job paid well, it was neither an admired nor prestigious position.

But Joseph heard of Anna’s plight and maybe because he was something of an outcast himself, he agreed to pay the fine so that the boy could be baptized. He even agreed to be the registered godfather and allowed the boy to be given his name: Joseph.

Though Joseph’s baptism prevented him from being a complete outcast throughout the community, he was still an outsider, and he was still unable to do things that “legitimate” children and young people were allowed to do, such as attend school, learn a trade, and seek employment.

For an innocent boy who had done nothing to deserve it, his was a tough life defined by rejection and condemnation. Young Joseph wasn’t allowed to participate in religious activities, so instead he would spend his lonely afternoons singing on the steps of the church. He may not have been welcome among the “decent people” who filled the pews each Sunday, but he still felt at home in the shadow of the cathedral. And so there he would go to sing.

An Angelic Voice

As it turns out, Joseph had an angelic voice. One day the local choirmaster heard him singing and was so impressed that he decided to abandon protocol and bend the rules and invite Joseph to join his elite group of performers, which gave him the opportunity to receive an education.

Joseph proved himself to be not only a gifted vocalist and musician — he became the master of many instruments — but he was also an outstanding student. The vicar of the church encouraged Joseph to pursue a career in ministry … but there remained the nagging problem of the circumstances surrounding his birth — his so-called illegitimacy. Since Joseph was born out of wedlock, he normally wouldn’t even be allowed to attend seminary.

The vicar went to bat for him and ultimately church authorities granted special permission for him to attend. Finally, in 1815, at the age of 22, Joseph Mohr graduated from seminary and was ordained as a priest.

The Most Popular Carol

The following year, he wrote the song for which he is known. According to Time Magazine, it is the most popular Christmas song ever. Between 1978 and 2014 it was recorded more than 730 times.

Joseph wrote the verses in German. Eventually they were translated into English. Today we sing it this way: Silent night, Holy night, All is calm, all is bright.

We’re familiar with three verses; Joseph actually wrote six.

Silent Night’s Christmas Miracle

Imagine what Christmas Eve of 1914 looked like on the frontlines of World War I.

The smell of death was everywhere, with weary troops suffering from the never-ending hunger, the cold, the deep mud, the constant danger, with little or no hope they would survive.

That evening, cutting through the darkness, the song “Stille Nacht” (“Silent Night”) began wafting out of the German trenches, first quite faintly, then louder and stronger.

From their trenches, British troops echoed back with the English version of “Silent Night,” along with other carols, creating a shared moment of recognition. This continued on both sides throughout the night.

Think about it — the image of enemies singing the same hymn in different tongues is almost parable-like: a reminder that shared humanity can pierce even the darkest trenches.

This highly unlikely truce led men from both sides to cautiously come out of their trenches on Christmas

Day into No Man’s Land, to meet those who, just days before, they’d been trying to kill.

British, French, and Belgian soldiers had fellowship that day with the Germans in No Man’s Land, exchanging gifts, food, cigarettes, and showing photos of their loved ones, all in a moment of shared peace. They even buried their dead together.

The ceasefire was not universal—some areas of the frontline still saw fighting.

What made this truce unique is that it was grassroots, initiated by soldiers themselves, many of whom did this against orders.

When angry superiors ordered their troops to resume fighting, it is said that instead of shooting Germans, some troops fired their weapons aimlessly overhead, thinking of their new friends.

Author Stanley Weintraub even wrote the book “Silent Night” about this intriguing event.

Closing the Book on 2025

This holiday season—and in all your Christmases to come—when you hear or sing “Silent Night,” think back to this story of how a budding 23‑year‑old priest, despite being scorned, excluded, and dismissed, could still create such a moving and enduring gift for the world.

In the quiet corners of your holidays, pause and reflect on how blessed your life has been, especially compared to that of young Joseph Mohr.

And it is not too soon to begin shaping how 2026 will become your best year yet.

As you plan, if you feel regret or remorse for anything in your past, remember the wisdom of C.S. Lewis: “You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

Lastly, may I offer you my deepest thanks and gratitude for reading my columns this past year, where you and I together shared the textures of life.

Merry Christmas, and may your holidays be filled with the people you love.

Here’s to a 2026 rich with good memories—and a year full of many good things for you!

Jeff Corbett is an experienced public speaker, meeting facilitator and sales and marketing professional. He lives in Statesville. He can be reached at jeff@speak-well.com.