By Jonathan Bailey
The gamelan instruments gleamed in the December sunlight as we set up on the church’s front veranda. After nearly three decades in Bali, I had spent countless hours encouraging local churches to embrace their cultural heritage in worship. While there had been tentative openness over the years, very little had taken root within the church. But this Christmas evening felt different.
As congregation members and friends arrived for the service, the familiar tones of “Carol of the Bells” rang out across the courtyard. But this wasn’t the expected piano or guitar, but the enchanting ringing of the Semar Pagulingan gamelan. Faces lit up. Folks came close. Phones appeared, capturing this unexpected fusion of Western carol and traditional Balinese gamelan. And what’s more, our 15-member ensemble was made up faces from around the world, Balinese included. Children stopped to stare, adults smiled and I felt something shifting in the warm morning air.
Moving inside for the service, we positioned ourselves near the altar and the Bali church’s symbol of the dancing cross. The opening notes of “Veni Veni” – O Come, O Come Emmanuel – filled the sanctuary. But the first few minutes of somber melody and haunting bamboo flute soon gave way to a joyful explosion of music, a distinctly Balinese interpretation of the ancient Advent hymn. From my position behind the instruments, I noticed the group of visiting pastors that our host had invited from neighboring churches. Theirexpressions spoke volumes – not the polite tolerance I had grown accustomed to, but genuine joy and engagement. Even the synod leader was grinning.
But the most powerful moment came during “Silent Night.” As the sanctuary lights dimmed and candles flickered to life throughout the congregation, our gamelan arrangement accompanied the choir and congregation rising voice. The bronze instruments seemed to whisper the Christmas story in the ancient language of Bali, creating an atmosphere both reverent and distinctly local. Though I couldn’t see individual faces in the candlelit darkness, I could feel my own deep connection to this moment, and prayed others felt it too.
After the service, the response was overwhelming. Person after person approached, expressing their excitement and gratitude. “Can you come back for Easter?” became the recurring question. Indeed, a few days later and after meeting with the church council, the pastor extended an invitation for us to return during the Easter season.
Standing in that church courtyard, surrounded by enthusiastic worshippers and fellow musicians, I remembered the journey that brought us here. Thirty years of relationship-building of gentle encouragement, of demonstrating that Balinese musical traditions not only could serve worship without compromising faith, but that it should serve Bali and the global church with its unique expression of the faith. The seeds planted decades ago were blooming into something magnificent.
This Christmas performance represented more than just a successful concert – it was validation of a vision that local churches could authentically express their faith through their own cultural voice. The gamelan didn’t replace traditional hymns; it enriched them, creating space for Indonesian hearts to worship through Balinese artistry.
As we packed our instruments, already planning for Easter arrangements, I felt profound gratitude for this moment. Was it a “breakthrough” moment? Only time will tell, but I’m encouraged in a way I’ve not been for a long time. Sometimes the most meaningful moments in ministry take decades to achieve. But in Bali, when they finally arrive, they resonate with the deep, lasting beauty of bronze gongs calling people home.