I’m dreaming of home.
Perhaps my desire to be with my family today is a far cry from soldiers who repeated this wish to themselves over and over again while they battle with the cold and each other in muddy, desolate trenches almost a hundred years ago. I have never spent Christmas away from my family, and my hand still trembles from loneliness when the silence stretches itself too wide around the room. Now that it’s Christmas and I am all alone in the office, I found that it actually isn't too bad. I don’t feel lonely at all. Christ is with me—in the person of my parents and family whose voices lift my spirits so high, of my friends whose messages never fail to warm my heart, and of him for whom I have so much affection it sets my soul on fire.
It is a Merry Christmas.
Speaking of Merry Christmas (and the reason I made a war reference), yesterday I watched a French film titled Joyeux Noel. It is a true story of a truce between French, German, and Scottish troops on the eve of Christmas, at the height of the First World War. I should admit that I am not very fond of war movies; I would rather sit through an hour and a half of stark verbal battles between characters (or no words at all [e.g., Amour]) than have them brandishing guns, swords, even wands trying to kill each other. The wonderful thing about Joyeux Noel is that it exposes the pointlessness of war and ethnocentrism by making a simple statement about peace and friendship—we are all the same; we are brothers. And not just a statement, the film sings a song as well, quite beautifully at that, about music and its mysterious power to touch and heal the soul.
The film starts off with three boys (French, German, and English) reciting a poem praising their countries and denouncing their enemies. This is a striking and a most ingenious opening scene as it not only represents the film’s tri-racial focus, it also tells us, and more importantly, that hatred for another race is not intrinsic. If education does not propagate this they-are-different-from-us-so-they-must-be-evil mentality, boys will grow up into men who will shake hands and laugh with other men who speak a different language instead of putting bullets through their head.
The scene that follows is that of William and Jonathan, Scottish brothers who are called to fight with their priest Fr. Palmer. William is very excited because “at last, something is happening in our lives!” Jonathan doesn’t look too happy, but you can tell that he will follow his brother anywhere. Fr. Palmer looks deeply troubled and murmurs a prayer as the candles symbolically die out. I want to call this scene out because it says something about young men like William who willingly join the war because it somehow makes “something happen” in their lives. In other words, they welcome it as a deviation from the normalcy of everyday, rustic living—a source of rush, of excitement, of meaning. War provides you with the rush all right, but the presence of meaning in violence is something I highly doubt.
We are then introduced to Sprink and Anna, opera singers and lovers, who are in the middle of a performance when a German officer interrupts them with an announcement about a reserve call up. Meanwhile, French lieutenant Audebert stares longingly at a picture of his pregnant wife. This is the sacrifice that war forcefully demands from its victims: distance from something or someone that you love—art, family, friends, home—without offering any certainty of a reunion.
We are taken to the battlefield where the three groups rain bullets and explosives on each other. Several men die during this attack, including William whom Jonathan had to abandon in no man’s land. William’s death affects Jonathan so much it almost drives him mad. He continues to write letters to their mother telling her how coveted her cake was in their infantry and how he and William miss her so much. He doesn't mention that his brother is dead. This is the first time the film made me cry. It was ironic how William who faced war with the eyes of an adventurer instead met his death while those who cower and tremble behind their rifles remained alive.
Christmas Eve. Father Palmer plays his bagpipe, and the Scots sing a festive song about home. The Germans listen with their small makeshift Christmas trees, and the French wonder suspiciously. Sprink shows up with Anna after being sent away to perform for the prince of Prussia and starts singing “Silent Night.” Fr. Palmer in the Scot trenches hears him and accompanies him with his bagpipe. This move shocks the German soldiers, but encourages Sprink to sing even louder. He dares comes out of the trenches in full visibility and vulnerability, singing with soulful gusto. A French soldier prepares to shoot him but is stopped by his lieutenant. The Scots emerge from their trench in full view and gleefully applauds Sprink as he finishes the song. Fr. Palmer then plays the first few notes of “Adeste Fideles” as an invitation for Sprink to sing the song, which he enthusiastically does. Sprink walks toward the Scottish trench singing and holding one small Christmas tree, arms wide open, a festive smile on his face, an expression of trust, an invitation of peace. It just went on from there until the three lieutenants met and agreed on a Christmas ceasefire.
“Merry Christmas.”
"Frohe Weihnachten."
"Joyeux Noel"
This scene I believe is the turning point of the whole film, where everything came together and made sense, not just for these soldiers but for the audience. It didn't matter which language the greeting was said, what mattered was that its essence was experienced in its deepest, truest sense. Here were three different groups of people discovering for the first time that they weren't at all very different. They drank the same champagne, smoked the same cigarettes, missed the same children, loved the same wives. The only difference was the number of cartridges they fired in a day.
And allow me to mention the farmyard cat the French named Nestor and the Germans call Felix who effectively provides an element of comedy to the film (though in the end he was arrested for high treason). Also let me express my amazement at the ironic fact that the German lieutenant was in fact a Jew.
The truce continues Christmas Day as the three lieutenants “bury their dead on the day Christ was born.” Although it makes you wish that it ends happily for everyone, it doesn't. The reality of the war catches up with the soldiers, and they were each made to face the repercussions of fraternizing with the enemy. Christmas or not, they were in the middle of a war. They were supposed to be killing each other, not playing football. But the friendship that they encountered between themselves, ignited by the miracle that is music, was so great and surprising that they just couldn't go back to what they once were before this encounter. They have become brothers, and no amount of dressing down from superiors can ever take away the song they have found together on that fateful Christmas Eve.
Music plays a pivotal part in this film, being the catalyst for peace. And indeed, this is what music does. It reveals to us our soul’s thirst for meaning and beauty. It crushes our hearts and brings tears to our eyes because this need is so great and overwhelming that we can’t even explain it and we realize that we don’t really have to because it’s a mystery! Music makes us face that mystery and encourages us to embrace it.
Music and friendship and peace. These were the words that fluttered warmly in my heart after I repeated the ending credits of the movie several times. Wonderfully enough, I realized that these words represent how Christmas should be celebrated: with song and laughter, with familiar faces, with the peace and light that Christ’s birth gives to the world.
Let me end my year-end blog post with a Bible passage that Pope Francis quoted in his homily for the Christmas:
Whoever hates his brother is in the darkness; he walks in the darkness and does not know the way to go, because the darkness has blinded his eyes —1 John 2:11
Jesus is the light who dispels the darkness. Whether or not they believed, the soldiers evidently encountered Christ's light (on the day of His birth no less!) and experienced peace and friendship through that encounter.
Merry Christmas!
