Remembering our shared humanity
In 1914, a Christmas miracle unfolded in the unlikeliest of settings. The ongoing World War I had already claimed the lives of hundreds and thousands of soldiers with no end in sight. On Dec. 7, Pope Benedict XV attempted to appeal for a truce to the leaders of the different countries but his plea received little attention from those in power.
However, a glimmer of hope emerged from an unexpected source. To boost the morale of German soldiers, Emperor William II sent Christmas trees to the frontlines. On Christmas Eve, British troops stationed in No Man’s Land saw illuminated trees 300 yards away, where their German enemies were encamped. Suddenly, they heard “Stille Nacht”—the German version of “Silent Night”—being gently sung. Private Albert Moren of the Second Queen’s Regiment would later report how hauntingly beautiful it sounded, describing it as one of the highlights of his life.
The British soldiers decided to join in the singing, and it wasn’t long before the two camps began communicating with each other, shouting out jokes and teasing remarks. Eventually, someone proposed the idea of a Christmas truce. A German soldier supposedly announced, “Tomorrow you no shoot, we no shoot.’” Even without an official order from their higher-ups, the two camps respected the request and a spontaneous ceasefire was achieved.
The following day, the soldiers met up to exchange cigarettes, food rations, and other goods. People who were enemies just hours before were suddenly talking as if they were friends, telling stories and openly discussing their sentiments about wanting the war to end soon. An impromptu football match even broke out in No Man’s Land, and hundreds of players were said to have joined. The truce would be short-lived—lasting only one night and one day—with higher powers from both sides stepping in to ensure that kind of fraternization would never happen again. But for that brief moment, the world saw how the desire to celebrate Christmas and the values it stood for, was enough to inspire people to lay down their arms.
Historians say that this kind of moment is so rare that it could have easily been dismissed as a myth, had it not been documented in written letters and photographs sent by the soldiers. It is a poignant reminder of the extraordinary power that preserving one’s humanity can wield in the darkest of times and prompts reflection on how shared human experiences, especially shared joys, beget peace.
This year, the story of the 1914 Christmas truce becomes even more important as we celebrate Christmas in a world marred by conflict. In the city of Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus Christ located in the occupied West Bank, church leaders have canceled public Christmas festivities in “mourning and honor” of Palestinians killed in Gaza. The city’s Lutheran Church is showcasing a nativity scene surrounded by rubble, symbolizing how Christ would have been “under the rubble and Israeli shelling” if He had been born today.
For those of us observing the conflict from afar, there might be a temptation to momentarily set aside concern and disregard the extent of suffering that others are experiencing in these challenging times. However, as Nobel Laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel emphasized in his oft-quoted speech: Indifference to the suffering of others is “what makes the human being inhuman.” Celebrating Christmas without recognizing the pain and despair of others is a denial of their humanity and diminishes our own.
A simple yet impactful way to show solidarity and embrace our shared humanity is by committing to be kinder and more responsive to the needs of others. For instance, many are opting for muted celebrations and redirecting the funds to aid agencies in conflict areas. Last week, I saw a friend generously hand out P1,000 bills to parking attendants. He explained that with overcrowded malls and jammed streets likely leading to more impatient customers than usual, he wanted to make the attendants “feel valued.” Similarly, one of our school messengers received a generous amount for her “pamasko,” and chose to use some of it to buy five kilos of rice for her neighbors—a family of five children whose parents recently passed away.
While the notion of creating a ceasefire through a song may no longer seem feasible, we should persist in using our voices to speak out against the atrocities of war. Growing up, I found it amusing how movies used “world peace” as the cheesy clichéd response given by beauty contestants in pageant Q and As. Now that I’m older and have gained a deeper understanding of how war devastates nations and deprives generations of life’s opportunities, I have come to realize that there is nothing cheesy or trivial about wishing and praying for world peace after all.
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