“I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “…plans to give you hope and a future.” —Jeremiah 29:11
Expectantly, I lean forward as lights come up, revealing a makeshift stage. A little shepherd boy sits outside a simple dwelling, playing a flute. Inside, his mother sweeps a dirt floor.
I am seeing for the first time Menotti’s one-act opera Amahl and the Night Visitors. I am fourteen years old. To be sure, this is a low-budget production. The “stage” is actually the platform of University Presbyterian Church in Baton Rouge. The set (the shepherd’s hut) is depicted only by a rustic table and a bench. The door to the hut is imagined.
There is no orchestra. Only a piano provides the accompaniment. And the shepherd boy isn’t a boy. The role is being sung by a petite young woman—a lyric soprano.
But none of this matters. To me, the production is magical. As the opera advances, I will learn that the little shepherd is crippled and that three Wise Men will visit the boy’s hut that very night–to rest on their way to Bethlehem. The plot unfolds rapidly. The Wise Men will fall asleep. The mother will attempt to steal gold from these visitors—until she learns that the gold is meant for a special child born this very night in Bethlehem. The mother and her son Amahl are among the poorest of the poor, yet Amahl wishes to give a gift of his own to this child. He offers to give his crutch. As he takes it from under his arm and presents it to the Wise Men, the music dies to just above a whisper. Amahl, hardly believing, looks down at his feet. Slowly he sings, “I walk, mother. I walk…”
Through the years, I’ve seen this little opera many times. But I will always look for a chance to see it again when Christmas rolls around, and for this simple reason: Amahl has come to symbolize everything that Christmas means to me–love, forgiveness, and healing.
In a very real way, the little boy Amahl is now a part of me. I have passed through a lifetime of hopes held high and dreams dashed, unbridled joys and cruel disappointments. The opera ends as Amahl joins the Wise Men on their journey toward Bethlehem. The audience delights in this glorious finale. But time and again, I will go back to witness this little opera, not for the ending, but for the instant right before Amahl is healed…the moment “just before,” when Amahl is simply offering his own gift to the Christ child. This is my “Amahl Moment.”
In my seventies now, I’ve lived so many of my days just waiting, stranded in those moments “just before.” And there are, I know, so many of those “just before” moments yet to come. But the beautiful strains of Menotti’s opera will stir again. Lights will again come up on a poor shepherd’s hut. The Wise Men will appear. And as Amahl offers his simple gift, I know that there will always come–in that very next moment–a miracle.
Dear Lord, whatever the present circumstances, I know You are always with me, leading me into the promise of a bright tomorrow.
Terry Byars