Christmas Memorial

The story is told of some who suffered much tragedy in their lives, but rose up with this promise of God. It happened one Christmas eve during the fourteenth century.

The greatest pestilence of history was sweeping through Europe. It was the "Black Death," the plague, and it claimed its victims by the hundreds of thousands, in every country, in every city, and every hamlet. In that dreadful time, men sought to save their lives through isolation.

Since a simple touch, the sweep of a passing garment, might bring death, many barred themselves up in their houses, with such provisions as they could gather, and sustained a strange siege against the invisible enemy without. In such a manner did one of the citizens of Goldberg, in Germany, save his life until Christmas eve 1353.

He thought himself the last inhabitant of the plague-stricken city, and as the time of the joyous festival approached he could not but recall how many of his old companions had joined with him in merrymaking in the past years; and now he was left alone in the midst of desolation.

The thought must have been borne in upon him that his life was not worth saving at the price of such loneliness, for he unbarred his door and went out into the street to take the plague, if God willed it, and to die. As he went forth he sang the old Christmas songs that he had sung in the old days before the plague.

He was astounded to hear a voice respond to his own, and in a little while another citizen had unbarred his door and sang with him; as the two went down the street they were joined by another, and another, until, when they had come to the far end of the road at the Neiderring, a hill close to the town, there was a band of twenty-five, men, women, and children, all that was left of the town of Goldberg.

Whether it was that the plague had spent its violence or, which is more probable, that the minds of the survivors were more serene and less afraid of death, none of this little band died of the Black Death.

They returned to their homes, set their houses in order, buried their dead, and the town began to prosper anew. But each Christmas eve for centuries after this event, even to this very year, the inhabitants of the town gather together for worship at midnight, and then march together through the streets, to the Neiderring. (from THE HEART HAS ITS SEASONS, W.P. Webb, p.70)