I saw a mass outbreak of Christmas cheer during a fist fight at the mall cineplex on Christmas Day. Everyone in the concession stand line seemed to agree that what we witnessed was much more interesting than the movies we were there to see.

Christmas Day is the busiest day of the year at movie theaters. That no doubt riles the religious sensibilities of some. After all, the Bible certainly doesn’t say that the proper way to celebrate Christmas is with popcorn and soda at the movies. However, I confess that it has been our tradition for years to cap off our holiday observance with a family trip to the theater on Christmas evening.

We aren’t the only ones. I knew what to expect, so we arrived at the 24-screen Oklahoma City mall theater almost an hour before our movie was scheduled to start. Good thing we did. We stood in line for 20 minutes to buy our tickets. Then the rest of the family went to claim our seats, while I stood in line at the concession stand. That line was longer than the first; it took me about half an hour to get our popcorn and drinks.

So picture the scene. About 75 people forming several long lines at the concession stand. It is Christmas evening. People are exhausted from weeks of holiday activities. And they are growing impatient, as they are kept waiting in their second line of the evening.

I was standing about 20 people back in line, when a couple of women in their 20s walked up to the front to join a friend who had reached the front of the line. I thought, “Oh, great. If everyone in line is standing in for a group of friends, this is going to take forever.” Then I thought nothing more about it.

Less than a minute later, loud voices drew my attention back to the front of the line. A fellow close to the front, also in his 20s, and one of the young women who had cut into the line were standing face-to-face, about an arm’s length from each other, speaking in loud, angry tones. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it obviously had something to do with the young ladies’ poor manners. I heard the fellow shout, “Ask anybody else in this line if they don’t agree with me.”

Then, as the heated exchange continued, the irate young man reached out and batted the woman’s large-size Coca Cola out of her hand. That changed the situation completely. Some shoving and pushing ensued, but so far no blows had been thrown.

A man in the next line said loudly, “It’s Christmas, folks!” Whatever he thought that might accomplish, it did not have the desired effect. He repeated it again. “It’s Christmas, folks!” Again, the concession-stand scufflers paid him no mind. Then the man with glad tidings broke out into the first verse of “Silent Night” at the top of his lungs.

Amazingly — yes, this really happened — just about everyone else standing in line immediately chimed in. Several dozen people, all singing “Silent Night” more loudly than they had ever sung it at church, singing it with a certain pointed emphasis with which “Silent Night” has probably never been sung before. As we sang, the carolers all watched to see if our group sing of an old Christmas hymn would have any effect on the fracas.

“Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Sleep in heavenly peace.”

“Silent Night” turned out to be an excellent choice for crowd control. Its mention of “calm” and “peace,” not to mention Jesus and Mary, were just right. It was a much better choice than “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” (after the first line, most people would have stumbled on the words) or “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer” (no religious content to cause the desired shame) or “Deck The Halls” (which might have incited them further). I would be very interested to see how the same scene would have played out if the fellow had launched into, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

But “Silent Night” seemed to be doing the trick. In response to a large crowd of fellow citizens communicating in unison that for them to keep fighting was an egregious affront to Christmas and everything holy, the fighters lowered their voices and backed off from each other a bit.

However, the Christmas spirit which had enveloped us was disrupted suddenly, when a large man can bounding out of nowhere to the front of the line. My impression was that he was a friend of the women. I guessed that someone had gone to fetch him, probably about the time that that large-size Coke was slapped out of the girl’s hand. I guessed that this fellow had been pulled out of a theater and was not feeling the afterglow of the crowd’s rendition of “Silent Night.” It all happened very fast. Suddenly the fuss was transformed into a full-fledged fist fight.

Then another large man trotted up from another direction. He grabbed the first man and hauled him a few yards away, which resulted in them standing about 6 feet from where I stood. That put me in an awkward situation. If they starting throwing punches, one of them was quite likely to come toppling into me. But I had been standing in that line for a long time, and I sure didn’t want to give up my place. It was an easy choice. I stood my ground.

I heard the second large man tell the first, who was taking a swing at him, “I’m a cop. I’m a cop. You better cooperate.” I would love to know if that guy really was a cop or not. He was wearing a green army coat. He never flashed a badge. Maybe he was an off-duty cop. Maybe he was a security guard. Maybe he watches a lot of TV. But it worked. The first guy stopped fighting and the undercover cop escorted him to some other part of the theater. By then, a uniformed security guard showed up and took the rest of the brawlers away.

The question I always ask when I get into line at the grocery store or a concession stand is whether I chose the fastest line. As I wait, I measure the progress of the other lines to see if I made the right choice. Fortunately, during the entire fracas, the clerks behind the counter had continued to serve customers. With a few people yanked out of our line by security personnel, it turned out I had chosen the right line after all. Yes!

What is the moral of this little Christmas tale? I haven’t figured that out yet. Perhaps it is a testimony to the power of — what? Christmas? Music? The Oklahoma spirit? The ability of one man to make a difference? It would not be too hard for a clever sermon-writer to develop the theme of the life-changing power of love over brute force, of grace over the law. But it would probably be more intellectually honest to see this as a demonstration of the tremendous power of peer pressure. Apparently angry people will back down when several dozen of their peers clearly communicate that their behavior is unacceptable.

I do know that I may never be able to sing “Silent Night” again without thinking of a fist fight at the movie theater on Christmas Day. Oh well, I can live without “Silent Night.” I’m thankful the glad tidings guy didn’t choose my favorite carol, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” I’d hate for that Christmas classic to be ruined for me.