“Why would a chorus need a sign language interpreter?” I thought as the performance began. On the stage in front of me stood a hundred men, a conductor, an orchestra and, off by the side, a sign language interpreter. I enjoyed the music (re-interpreted Christmas classics and some new songs too) and the choreography, but I couldn’t help thinking that it made no sense there was someone signing the lyrics. Yet a few songs into the two-hour performance, my feelings towards the interpreter warmed when I realized that he was performing himself. Like an echo of the conductor, he didn’t just sign, but he did so with emotion and in rhythm with the music. Still, it didn’t make sense he was there. Clearly, his presence was a misguided attempt at being inclusive, and he was just making the best of it.
A few songs later, he walked off the stage as the orchestra started playing the melody of Silent Night. Just as I was trying to figure out what was going on, the chorus started singing, but not with their voices but with their hands. All hundred men, in unison, signed the words to the song while the orchestra played the melody. After the second verse, the orchestra fell silent, yet the men kept signing. Not a sound could be heard from the audience of two thousand filling the venue until Silent Night ended and we erupted in applause.
Nehaveigur 