In this season of shortening days and lengthening nights, we gather to listen. We turn to words and melodies that have traveled across centuries, cultures, and traditions. Christmas with Kinnara is not a retelling of a single story. It is an invitation into the human experience that surrounds this time of year: the hush of winter, the surprise of light, the quiet work of wonder.

Tonight’s program moves through four meditative spaces. We begin in Mystery, where ancient texts and modern voices lean toward the unexplainable and the moment when stillness seems to open into something larger than ourselves. From there we move into Witness, which reflects the humility and tenderness of those who learn simply by looking and listening. Journey reminds us that we are seekers who are guided by glimmers of hope, intuition, and dawning light. And in Joy, we arrive at a place of openness and renewal. This final space offers a generous vision of what it means to live with courage and wholeheartedness.

The readings, drawn from Rumi, the Ute people, David Wagoner, and Rabindranath Tagore, follow these themes alongside the music. Together they offer four distinct ways of encountering the season: contemplative, attentive, searching, and finally, expansive.

May this evening invite you into stillness and warmth, into curiosity and brightness, and into a deeper sense of the light that persists even in the quietest winter night.

prologue

This opening set rests in the profound stillness at the heart of winter. Poulenc’s O Magnum Mysterium opens with haunting serenity, inviting us into a sound world shaped by luminous awe. Judith Weir’s Drop Down Ye Heavens from Above lifts that stillness into longing, stretching toward the hope of breakthrough. Pärt’s Magnificat follows with crystalline simplicity, suspended in timeless, inward focus. The set concludes with Willcocks’s arrangement of Gabriel’s Message, which brings a warm and familiar glow into the unfolding mystery.Rumi’s poem “The Guest House” frames this entire set as an invitation to openness. Mystery becomes not something to resolve, but something to welcome with curiosity and tenderness.

READING: The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

–Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi (13th century)

I. Mystery

This set turns our attention outward toward quiet observation and humility. Poulenc’s Quem vidistis pastores dicite opens with the sense of a question carried into the still air, followed by Bob Chilcott’s The Shepherds’ Carol, which offers a gentle, human glimpse of wonder. Eleanor Whitsett’s Where Shepherds Lately Knelt continues this reflective perspective with warmth and sincerity, and Willcocks’s See Amid the Winter’s Snow brings the set into the familiar cadence of communal song, shaded with tenderness. The Ute prayer “Earth Teach Me Quiet” places this witness in the context of creation itself. Its lines ask the natural world to teach humility, courage, renewal, and acceptance. Here, witnessing becomes a posture of listening deeply to the world as it is.

READING: Ute prayer

Earth teach me quiet, as the grasses are still with new light.
Earth teach me suffering, as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility, as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring, as mothers nurture their young.
Earth teach me courage, as the tree that stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation, as the ant that crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom, as the eagle that soars in the sky.
Earth teach me acceptance, as the leaves that die each fall.
Earth teach me renewal, as the seed that rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself, as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness, as dry fields weep with rain.

–Ute Prayer of the Indigenous people of the Great Basin and Colorado Plateau

II. witness

The third set shifts into motion, charting a path from darkness toward dawning light. Poulenc’s Videntes stellam lifts the voices as though following a guiding spark, while Melissa Dunphy’s O Oriens turns toward the bright edge of morning, shimmering with anticipation. Ola Gjeilo’s Northern Lights widens the horizon with sweeping color and a sense of cosmic vastness. The set then opens into communal song with Willcocks’s The First Nowell, inviting the audience to join in a moment of familiar celebration and shared direction. David Wagoner’s poem “Lost” offers a counterbalance. It reminds us that a journey often begins with stillness and attention. The forest knows where you are, the poem says, and will show the way if you listen. Together, these works trace a path illuminated by both movement and quiet revelation.

READING: Lost

Stand still. 
The trees ahead and bushes beside you
are not lost. 
wherever you are is called Here,
and you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. 
Listen. 
It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, 
you may come back again, 
saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
you are surely lost. 
Stand still. 
The forest knows
where you are. 
You must let it find you.

–David Wagoner (1999)

III. journey

The final set opens into brightness and renewal. Poulenc’s Hodie Christus Natus Est bursts with buoyant color, setting the tone for exuberance. Sametz’s Gaudete amplifies that energy with rhythmic vitality and medieval lift. Will Todd’s My Lord Has Come adds expressive warmth, its lines shaped by tenderness and welcome. Ben Owen’s Noël Nouvelet closes the set with a sense of lively newness rising. Tagore’s excerpt from Gitanjali, “Where the Mind Is Without Fear,” expands this joy into a vision of human flourishing rooted in clarity, freedom, and truth. The music and text together open a space where joy becomes not only celebration, but the courage to imagine a world made new.

READING: Where the mind is without fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments;
by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way;
into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee;
into ever-widening thought and action—;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

–from “Gitanjali”, Rabindranath Tagore (1913)

IV. joy

epilogue