As we pulled into the parking lot, after driving out of town...you could sense that there wasn't much excitement for this new venue. In fact, I believe there were more nerves and fears. After all, the purgatory isn't a typical place for a high school choir group to sing.
As they searched our bags for weapons, and took away our cell phones and car keys, emotions definitely weren’t soothed. After we were cleared, an armed guard met us in the empty hallway. He led us through a tiny room, where the doors on either side, were dead bolted shut. No escaping. As video cameras recognized our faces, and the security crew cleared us, a loud beeping tone matched the racing hearts. We hurried through the room, and down a small hallway, into a glass room, filled with nothing but chairs and a small key board.
The room was about the size of a typical classroom. Except instead of square, it was more of a rectangle, providing for more seats, and room for guards to stand in the back. As we organized ourselves, a kind guard began to explain what would happen. Within minutes, they would have a group of male inmates file into the room, and sit quietly, hopefully. He explained that if any of them were rude, or disrespectful, they would be taken out immediately, but that we shouldn't expect that because this was a privilege for them. Nerves still up in the air, the inmates began filling in. They looked just as you would imagine. Striped matching clothing, long beards and hair, tattoos, grumpy faces, and cuffs around their hands.. It looked as if these men were, I hate to say it, but heartless.
As we began singing, our voices filled the glass room with perfect pitch and tone. And the words were made clear for all to hear. Our program was not filled with songs such as "Jingle bells" or "have yourself a merry little Christmas", but instead, were carefully picked to portray the miracle of Christ’s humble birth. Song after song, the message was clear. God our Savior has been born, and with His life, He will save and love us all, "Gloria, Gloria, Peace on earth and, good will to man."
As our voices rang with this message, something unexpected happened in that room. The men that were previously thought of as "heartless", had tears in their eyes, and were overcome. The more we sang, the more we knew these songs were for them, too.
We finished up with a jazz number and an awesome rendition of "Angles we have heard on high" and as they clapped, not a dry eye was in the room. From these humble men in stripes, to the armed guards in the back, to the choir, we were all touched by what had just taken place. Filing out, they thanked us for bringing Christmas to their stale and grey walls. We were so overcome by the change, I think a few of us could only muttered out softly, “Thank you, you too, Merry Christmas.”
After all the men were gone, the guard once again gave us another speech. He informed us that the women’s group was now about to enter, and to perhaps not expect the same thing with them.. He said that something different, happened with women who were confined. Women are so fragile, and places like these.. are not where they belong. It’s a dangerous place for her.
As they too, filled into their seats, filling the back rows first, we knew at once what he meant. Within moments you could detect the ring leaders. The tougher, scarier ones. You could practically feel the harshness in their thoughts, and turned away from the hard stares. So once again, we found our emotions were weary.
Our Christmas program speaks of Christ, of His love, and peace.. but that particular year, we also focused a lot on Mary. Her strength, and passion, and devotion. And in one song, even her fear. The women picked up on this message instantly. As rough faces slowly softened, eventual tears would slip down beautiful, torn faces. Something… special, indescribable, filled that room, as we sang of the womanhood of our Saviours mother. It’s as if they were once again reconnected to the divine love our Saviour has for his daughters… no matter where they are. I would have thought nothing could be more powerful, until we began our last number.
Ashley walked to the front of the room, and began her solo.. " I have traveled, many moonless nights, cold and weary... with a babe in sight." Her angelic tone matched the faint cries of our audience. ... "I am waiting.. for a silent prayer, I am frightened by the load I bear, in a world, as could as stone... must I walk this path alone?"….
The choir joined her for the chorus, and I was amazed of the strength each of us were able to sing with.. "Be with me now!.. be with me now.." As the songs melodies and lyrics continued on, I found myself watching one of the "ring leaders” near the back. Everyone around her, already submitted to tears, she sat resolute. Determined to stay tough. But as I continued watching her, the choir sang, in the most powerful spirit, and with such humility…the words, " Help me be strong.... help me be... help me." And then she changed. This woman racked with so much pain and hardness, softened. You could see it happening right before your eyes. And you knew, that she had just felt the peace of Christ, the strength of Mary, and the love.. of the season.
Our program came to an end, and again we were thanked with a tearful standing ovation. As the women left, we all gathered round each other, and it seemed the feelings were mutual. Unlike when we first arrived, we knew that these people were people. They were not crimes, or misfortunes, anger, or scary. They were His children, just as much as we are... and we knew that no matter what they did, God loves them still. We were the vessels for that message. We knew it, and most importantly, we knew that they knew it.
On that day, we surely sang a message of peace. And once again, were deeply reminded of the true meaning, of the season.
