Good Christian Men Rejoice
Good Christian friends, rejoice
with heart and soul and voice;
give ye heed to what we say:
Jesus Christ was born today.
Ox and ass before him bow,
and he is in the manger now.
Christ is born today!
Christ is born today!
I stood in the hallway at South Bend LaSalle High School on Sunday, December 3, 1967 scared out of my wits. I was a shy freshman with a slight stutter and chock full of insecurity at the time and this was my first concert ever with the LaSalle High School Glee Club. I had heard the stories of full houses and standing ovations but I had never experienced them in person. I was just a farm kid who had the blessing of an above average singing voice and a smattering of music ability.
My stomach was turning flip flops. I and about 100 other students were about to hit the stage and I was praying I did not screw up.
In my hand, I held one of the electric lights that we were going to use as our processional song, “Good Christian Men Rejoice.” At the time, I did not know the significance of the song, nor the emotions that that song would evoke 56 years later upon hearing it for the 1,000th time.
All I knew was that I had clicked that battery-driven light at least 500 times, making sure it was going to go on. In the darkened auditorium, the effect was amazing.
The Glee Club was directed by a small man who became a huge legend at LaSalle. John R. Vogel was among the top three teachers I ever had, and I have had some great ones. Even at 14 years of age, I knew the man was different. There was a fire in his eyes, energy in his smile and an ability to inspire that only a few people have. I did not know it as I stood in that hallway that day, but he would influence my life in profound ways.
“Good Christian Men Rejoice” was our processional. Most high school choirs have a traditional opening song and this one belonged to us. In a few moments, the rear doors to the auditorium were going to open and we would stride down the aisles to the stage singing this song. As a freshman, it didn’t mean anything to do that. I would find out that, as a senior, it meant everything.
LaSalle High School had few things to brag about in my four years there but Vogel’s Christmas Show was one. We were a school that combined farm kids like me with the poorest of the poor kids from the hood in equal measure. Racial altercations were a regular thing and drugs were exchanged on school grounds.
Mr, Vogel did not care. If you were in his glee club, there were rules and he enforced the rules. After a while, the club grew to embrace his tough-love approach to students. He had a way of getting the best out of a mixed-up bunch of kids and his pride and joy was the Christmas show.
The doors suddenly opened and we silently walked to our spots in the aisle amidst the sold-out and now silent audience. Vogel nodded to his student pianist to hit the beginning note. Today, I understand he was probably more scared than I was about what was about to occur. We clicked on our electric lights. Mine, of course, failed.
It did not matter. Vogel raised both arms in the air and with one downward motion, the music processional began. 100 voices from 100 mixed up and scared teenagers, all in harmony, all on note. Lights be damned. It was Showtime!
The performance was perfect. It was magical. It was magnificent. Standing ovation stuff. I still hear it. I still feel it.
Good Men and Women, rejoice. Miracles happen when we least expect them. Even if your electric light fails.