The New Zealand Tablet THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1915. A SECOND WAR CHRISTMAS

New Zealand Tablet, 23 December 1915, Page 33

The New Zealand Tablet THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1915. A SECOND WAR CHRISTMAS

ME darkness that hovered over Christmas, jJIf |jjsl| 1914, has not lifted, but throws a heavier an deeper shadow over Christmas, 1915. What a Christmas! It is over 19,00 years since the message of peace on earth to men of good-will was proclaimed under the X stars by the angelic host to the shepherds ** of Bethlehem. And to-day nations with an aggregate population of 1,000,000,000 are locked in deadly strife. 20,000,000 men are under arms engaged in the ghastly strategy of . human ' slaughter. In twelve months’ warfare over 10,000,000 men have fallen on the battlefields of Europe. The world has never before witnessed such a Christmastide. Pray Heaven it never will again ! - * Those who mock at religious faith point with' derision to this hideous welter of blood as a proof of the failure of the Christian message. The world, it is said, has had nineteen centuries of Christianity, and this is all there is to show for it! No, it is' not all. Brutal, horrible, diabolical as the war is, it is only an episode.. The records of the past are filled with the triumphs of Christianity, and when the present temporary lapse into lunacy and paganism' is over, the records of the future, too, will be laden with fresh stories of the gracious victories of the Cross. After the war, indeed, Christianity’s great opportunity will ' . v-

come," and once again, as described by the inspired prophet, it will carry out .its great mission—‘ to bind up the broken-hearted; to proclaim liberty to the captives; to comfort all that mourn; to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.’ The rejection of Christian principles which has made the war possible was purely sectional. There has been no breakdown of Christianity among the mass of the peoples but only amongst a handful of junkers and potentates who happen for the moment to control the destinies of nations. How deep a hold, after all, Christian sentiment has upon the even of the very fighters themselves has been most strikingly illustrated in fetters from the front describing how the first war Christmas was celebrated in the trenches. * The Pope, the earthly representative of the Prince of Peace, had happily and fittingly suggested to Europe a Christmas truce. The Governments, tied to the dismal torture-wheel of war, had failed to agree. But when Christmas Day actually arrived, then the deep Christian spirit of Europe asserted itself in a striking and momentous manner. The men in the trenches on both sides brushed aside all the authorities that had brought them there, and themselves decided that there should be a brief relief from their yoke of hatred. 'ln face of this resolve, military discipline was powerless. Hundreds of thousands of men stepped out from those gloomy caverns to which war had condemned them, and mingled as friends on the fields of Belgium and France. In France— at one section of the trenches at least it was a Catholic chaplain who began the good work of fraternising, and his overtures evoked immediate response from the German officers. An officer’s letter, published in the Daily Mail, tells the story. ‘ Dotted over the sixty yards separating the trenches were scores and scores of dead soldiers, and soon spades were flung up by comrades on guard in both trenches, and by instinct each side set. to to dig graves for their dead. Our padre had seized his chance and found the German commander very ready to agree that after the dead had been buried a short religious service should take place. He told us that the German commander and his officers were as anxious as the British could be to keep Christmas Day as a day of peace. This was quite in keeping v with the behaviour of the Germans, who had kept up only an occasional firing on Christmas Eve, and were very busy singing carols and glees.’ ‘We did not know all that was being said,’ adds the officer, „‘ but afterwards we asked the padre questions. What happened, as we learned, was; The German took his cigar-case out and offered the padre a cigar, which was accepted. The padre said: “May I be allowed not to smoke, but to keep this as a souvenir of Christmas here and of meeting you on Christmas Day?” The answer, with a laugh, was: “Oh, yes; but can’t you give me a souvenir?” Then the hats came off. For the souvenir the padre gave was the copy of “The Soldier’s Prayer ” which he had carried in the lining of his cap since the war began, and the German officer, in accepting it, took off his cap and put the slip in its lining, saying as he did it: “I value this because I believe what it says, and when the war is over I shall take it out and give it as a keepsake to ray youngest child.” ’ ♦. A similar spirit was displayedand, to their credit be it said, the initiative appears to have been mostly taken by the German soldiers— along the lines. ‘ You need not have pitied us on Christmas Day,’ wrote an officer in a Highland regiment. ‘ I have seldom spent a more entertaining one, despite the curious conditions. We were in the trenches, and the Germans began to make merry on Christmas Eve, shouting at us to come out and meet them. I was horrified at discovering some of our men actually had gone out, imbued more with the idea of seeing the German trenches than anything ; else they met half-way, and there ensued the giving of cigarettes and receiving of cigars, and they arranged (the private soldiers of one army and the

■ ~ * private soldiers of the other) a- forty-eight hours’ armistice. It was all most irregular, . . . Christmas Day was very misty, and out came these Germans to wish us “A Happy Day” ; we went out, told them we were at war with them, and that really they must ay the game and pretend to fight; they went back, but again attempted to come towards us, so we fired over their heads; they fired a shot back to show they understood, and the rest of the day passed quietly in this part of the line, but in others a deal of fraternising went on. So there you are: all this talk of hate, all this fury at each other that has raged since the beginning of the war, quelled and stayed by the magic of Christmas,’ * Even in the Belgian lineswhere, if anywhere, the spirit of unrelenting hatred might have been expected to hold —there was the same touching story of the Christmas truce, ‘ Christmas in the trenches!’ wrote a Belgian soldier. ‘lt must have been sad, do you say ? Well, lam not sorry to have spent it there, and . the recollection of it will ever be one of imperishable beauty. At midnight a baritone stood up and in a rich resonant voice sang “Minuit .Chretien” The cannonade ceased, and when the hymn finished applause broke out from our side and—from the German trenches! The Germans, too, were celebrating Christmas, and we could hear them singing 200 yards away from us. Now lam going to tell you something which you will think incredible, but I give you my word that it is true. At dawn the Germans displayed a placard over the trenches on which was written “Happy Christmas,” and then, leaving their, trenches, unarmed, they advanced towards us singing and shouting “Comrades!” No one fired. We also had left our trenches and, separated from each other only by the half-frozen Yser, we exchanged presents. They gave us cigars, and we threw them some chocolate. Thus, almost fraternising, we passed' all the morning. Unlikely, indeed, but true. I saw it, but thought I was dreaming. Was it not splendid ? Think you that we were wrong ? We have been criticised here; it is said that we ought to have fired. But would it not have been dastardly ? And then, why kill on© another on such a festival day?’ * There it — a remarkable and unanswerable testimony to the reality and vitality of the Christian spirit, under perhaps the severest test to which that spirit has ever been subjected. Spite of all precedents, spite of regulations, spite of the iron rule of militarism, the ‘ magic of Christmas ’ . asserted itself, and the sworn enemies became mutual friends. Whether history will repeat itself in the Christmas of 1915, we cannot say; but whether it should find open expression or not, we know that deep in the hearts of the men in the trenches the spirit of Christmas will still hold sway. For, thanks bo to God, the spirit of that joyous time can never die. , In that spirit we wish all our readers the best joys of ‘ The happy night That to the cottage, as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down.’ To those, in particular, who are distressed and anxious, or who, perhaps, have suffered bereavement and loss in the unhappy strife that is draining the life - blood of the nations, we commend the sentiment of the beautiful lines of Dr. Sears; It came upon the midnight clear That glorious song of old. From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold; ‘ Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, : From heaven’s all-gracious King !’ The world in solemn stillness lay “■ To hear the angels sing. : '

Still through the cloven-skies they come With peaceful wings unfurled, And still their heavenly music floats O’er all the weary world; ' Above its sad and lowly plains > ' They bend on hovering wing, And ever o’er its Babel-sounds The blessed angels sing. But with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long ; Beneath the angel-strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And man, at war with man, hears not The song of love- they bring : Oh ! hush the noise, ye men of strife. And hear the angels sing ! And ye, beneath life’s crushing load Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way With painful steps and slow. Look now : for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing; Oh ! rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing !