Monday night, I performed in the glow of gas lamps for the first time. Before, I’d only seen lamps like that in picture books. They hung from the ceiling around The Carriage House Amish eatery where I played after dinner Christmas music. The luminous steal mesh hummed excitedly, casting circle shadows directly below the gas canisters—the final contrast for a weekend of curious lights.
Christmas is the season of lights, but, as a harpist, I worry about light all year long. When I unpack the harp I think about light before acoustics. Sound carries around corners. Light does not. I need light to see my music, to see the strings and where I am putting my finger. I appreciate enough light to see my audience and gage how they respond to my songs—and my jokes! I always carry my own battery stand light in my harp bag, but a performance space with good lighting is a gift. And in a weekend of six performances, I received a variety of gifts.
To begin Saturday evening, I performed in a pitch black sanctuary, with only a stand bulb to throw a doily of light over my music. I sat at the end of the brass orchestra in my own church, Nappanee Missionary, for their Christmas cantata, and the choir and the musicians were the only spots of light in the sanctuary.
Half an hour later, I performed with the Maple City Chamber Orchestra on the brilliant stage of Souder Concert Hall. The stage lights, bright and sharp as trumpet blasts, illuminated the entire orchestra and choir in the golden bowl of white wood, and the reflected light almost touched the audience. From where I sat in front of the percussion, the conductor in his white waistcoat shone like a paper cut out against the shadowy balconies.
Sunday morning I joined another cantata at the United Methodist church. In contrast to the last two concert spaces, the white walls of the 1874 sanctuary were split by stained glass windows that warmed up the winter morning light and left blue and gold foot prints running across the audiences’ faces. Light filled every corner.
Among the Christmas lights and Christmas candles, the true light of Christmas shines as Christ, the light of life. I imagine Christmas light to be like my weekend of performances—first only a few, the prophets, like the musicians on stage, saw the light. With their tiny lamps, they poured out music to the audience in darkness. When Christ came, he brought light to the church, spotlighting every movement of the performers and inviting the shadowed audience to participate. But when Christ comes again, a dawning Sunday morning, there will be no darkness on stage or in the seats.
“The light that shone on Bethlehem fills all the world today . . .”
Monday night, my weekend of orchestra performances over, I returned to doing my solo harp events. I performed for a Lion’s club under the gas lamps of an Amish barn. But maybe that was the best reminder of all.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine,
let it shine
let it shine
let it shine.
Let it shine till Jesus comes, I’m gonna let it shine.”
My next public performance will be a candle light Christmas Eve service at North Main Mennonite in Nappanee.
Merry Christmas and celebrate the Light!
