We missed half of the Harbor Bells Concert in Sag Harbor. However, the second half was more than enough. The performance was held at St. Andrews Catholic Church. After listening to only one song, I fully entered the spirit of the holidays.
Ten bell ringers and the conductor performed Christmas carols that were specially arranged for a bell performance. The bells themselves don’t produce sharp dings. Rather, they are soft notes that don’t overpower. As I listened to the first piece, Stairway to Heaven, I felt my emotions rise to the point where I whimpered. This continued to happen for the remainder of the concert.
The bells range from small to large sounding the notes of an entire scale. The one lone man operated the smallest bells on one end while a woman on the opposite side handled two large bass note bells. They wore gloves. The sounds of each bell ringing at different points during the piece combine into a whole, delightful musical event. The conductor said that the ensemble practiced weekly for three months. They all had music and had to use teamwork to bring the piece together.
“Silent Night” overwhelmed me emotionally. We were invited to sing along. I could hardly find enough energy to sing the words. So strong were my emotions that I was barely audible, caught up at times without any words at all. One line stopped my cold. I call it a prompt line because I knew immediately after hearing the line, I’d contemplate its meaning. “Shepherds quake at the sight.” My imagination jumped; the manger, the holy family, the kings, the sheep, the shepherds. Although the line heightens the drama of this wonderful song, I became the shepherd. Somehow I had learned that a baby was being born in a barn. I was in the vicinity and having spend much time alone with my sheep, decided to investigate. When I came upon the scene, I was shocked. I felt the sacred. I saw the sacred. Everything became sacred, the cows, the donkey, the goats, the people. Even the straw in the crib under the baby.
Bells get my attention. In Babylon, turning the compost pile, I hear church bells and stop. I find myself at attention. On the Hempstead Plains, the hourly bell from the Nassau Community College soundly gongs from a tower nearby. In Manhattan, in Greenwich Village, the stately ring from St. Anthony.s Church. It’s the bells that evoke spirit.
