An atheist, a Jew, and a Unitarian walked into a bar…
No, this isn’t the beginning of a bad joke, but you may find the outcome slightly humorous, if not deeply ironic. One of the most powerful Christmas carols ever sung—O Holy Night—has stirred the heart of Christendom for more than 150 years. Its themes of Christ’s power and glory, the trembling awe of a holy King wrapped in human weakness, and the call to fall on our knees in reverent wonder have drawn tears from countless eyes every Christmas Eve.
That’s why it comes as a shock to discover that this “sweet hymn of joy” was written by a socialist, atheistic French poet, composed by a Jewish musician, and later translated into English by a Transcendentalist Unitarian minister. Not exactly the trio you’d expect behind a hymn that calls the world to adore Christ the Lord.
In 1843, a parish priest asked French poet Placide Cappeau to write a piece for the dedication of a new church organ. Cappeau wasn’t exactly known for devotional meditation. He had to reread Luke’s Gospel just to refresh the details. But somewhere between his notes and a train ride to Paris, he penned a poem whose French title most of us couldn’t pronounce if our lives depended on it, yet it became the carol we now sing as O Holy Night.
The music came from Adolphe Adam, a prolific composer from a Jewish background. Then, in 1855, John Sullivan Dwight, a Unitarian minister and outspoken abolitionist, translated it into English.
It’s easy, once you know all this, to feel the song sag a bit under the weight of its own origins. When you hear lines like “His law is love and His gospel is peace” or “chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,” you might wonder whether the lyricists meant Christian theology at all, or whether they were simply expressing the moral sentiments of their day without any belief in the divine Christ who alone can bring such redemption.
But there is another way to look at it.
Cappeau’s heart turned more toward social reform than toward the Savior. He saw the brokenness of the world and longed for justice, yet looked to human solutions rather than the Messiah who alone heals the human condition. In doing so, he unintentionally testified to the very truth he missed. With his pen, he immortalized a message far bigger than his worldview could hold. The cry for justice. The need for liberation. The longing for peace. All of it finds its true fulfillment—not in human revolution, but in the reign of Christ.
That is the quiet wonder of this carol.
People who could not bring themselves to worship Jesus nonetheless wrote a hymn that commands the world to do exactly that. They articulated the beauty and majesty of the One they refused to bow to. They wrote of glory yet never tasted it. They described redemption yet never received it. They saw the silhouette of Christ’s power but would not step into His light.
Let their story serve as a gentle reminder. God can use anyone, and anything, to proclaim His truth. But only those who surrender to Christ find the reward that truth points to. The world still lies “in sin and error pining,” and no political vision or social program can cure its disease. Only Jesus can.
So let us fall on our knees.
Let us sing the words that still ring true, even if the author never meant them with the faith we now bring:
Christ is the Lord.
O praise His name forever.
Interesting!