
I grew up loving the Christmas carols that so many of us know by heart.
Silent Night. O Come All Ye Faithful. Joy to the World.
Their melodies shaped my earliest memories of the season; the warmth of gatherings, the sense of ritual, the magic that seemed to arrive every December without question. These songs felt universal, timeless, and comforting.
And yet, as I grew older, something in me began to quietly question the world they described.
Snow-covered landscapes.
European churches.
Languages and musical colors that felt distant from the Bethlehem I knew; not as a postcard image, but as a place rooted in memory, heritage, and lived experience.
I began to wonder:
Why doesn’t the music we hear every Christmas sound like the place where Christmas actually began?
Why don’t we hear the languages of that land; Arabic, Aramaic, Syriac, the languages that would have surrounded the Nativity story itself?
Why are the rhythms, scales, and voices of the Middle East absent from one of the world’s most celebrated holidays?
That question became a seed.
Over time, it grew into a longing; not to replace the carols I still deeply love, but to stand alongside them. To offer another truth. Another sound. A sound that carries the warmth of stone courtyards instead of snow, the glow of oil lamps instead of frost, the resonance of communal voices instead of distant choirs.
This longing becameThe Sound of Bethlehem.
The Sound of Bethlehem is an invitation to rediscover Christmas through its original geography and cultural voice. The album reimagines the season through authentic Middle Eastern instruments, ancient chant traditions, and contemporary arrangements that honor; rather than dilute, their roots.
Blending Arabic and Aramaic chant, Syriac hymnody, and newly composed works, the album presents Christmas not as an imported image, but as a living, breathing tradition born in the Levant. It is not a reconstruction of the past, but a continuation of it.
The musical heritage of Christmas in the Middle East is an ocean; deep, ancient, and layered with faith, resilience, and beauty. What we offer here is only a drop from that ocean, but it is a drop filled with memory, devotion, and truth.
This project came to life through collaboration:
composed and arranged by myself, Shireen Abu-Khader, alongside Nareg Abajian, and Fr. Khalil Rahmeh and brought into being by extraordinary vocalists and instrumentalists from across the region and diaspora. Together, we shaped a sound that is at once sacred, grounded, and alive.
1. Hadutho Rabtho (The Great Event)
The arrival of the Messiah
The album opens with Hadutho Rabtho, a powerful Syriac chant announcing the arrival of the Messiah. Sung with profound warmth and gravity, this piece immediately places the listener within an ancient spiritual world.
A single voice rises, supported by a traditional instrument, while the gentle tapping of a cane imitates a shepherd making his way through mountain paths; an auditory image drawn from the land itself. This is not symbolic decoration; it is storytelling through sound. The shepherd’s presence reminds us that the Nativity was first announced not to kings, but to those closest to the earth.
This opening is deliberate. It grounds the album in reverence and humility, setting Bethlehem not as myth, but as a lived landscape of anticipation and faith.
2. Al Beit Il-Hem (To Bethlehem)
A journey through sound
Al Beit Il-Hem is a traditional Syriac hymn sung here in its original language, arranged chorally in one of the classical modal scales that includes the distinctive quarter tone common to Arabic music.
The melody gently traces the journey toward Bethlehem footsteps on stone, whispered prayers, and the quiet reverence of pilgrims approaching a holy place. The modal language allows the chant to breathe with warmth and fluidity, bridging Syriac tradition with Arabic musical expression.
This piece embodies continuity: cultures, languages, and faith traditions flowing into one another across centuries. It is both homage and living practice not something preserved behind glass, but something still sung, still felt.
3. Laylet Eed (Christmas Eve)
Light unfolding
A newly composed work, Laylet Eed was written to capture the emotional landscape of Christmas Eve; the charm, expectancy, and joy that settles into the night.
Built around a simple, recurring theme, the piece gradually expands, allowing each instrumentalist to step forward and add color and texture. What begins as restraint slowly blooms into celebration, mirroring how anticipation turns into shared joy.
Here, the ensemble’s artistry shines:
the breath of thenay, the resonance of theqanun, the warmth of strings, and the pulse of percussion. Tradition and contemporary expression meet naturally, without hierarchy; just as they do in lived musical cultures.
4. Laylet al-Milad (Christmas Changes Things)
A song carried by generations
Few melodies are as deeply loved in the Levant as Laylet al-Milad. This carol lives in homes, churches, and memories across generations.
The arrangement opens with the voice of a child, offering the melody with honesty and innocence. From there, the song unfolds through rich choral harmonies supported only by percussion; intentionally stripped of excess so that the melody itself can carry the message.
As the verses and choruses return, the music grows both intimate and expansive, reminding us that Christmas is not only a story remembered, but a force that continues to shape hearts and communities.
5. Shlomlekh Mariam (Hail Mary)
A moment of stillness
This is the most intimate moment on the album.
An angelic duet, Shlomlekh Mariam is accompanied only by guitar. The lower soprano carries the melody, while the higher voice adds a gentle halo of sound, creating space rather than filling it.
The arrangement reflects Mary’s quiet strength, innocence, and humility. There is no grandeur here, only reverence, tenderness, and deep listening. It offers a pause in the album’s journey, a moment to breathe.
6. Hallelujah
A communal ending
Rooted in the Maronite tradition of Lebanon,Hallelujah was composed byFr. Khalil Rahmeh and reimagined here as the album’s final offering.
The piece begins simply, with a lyrical duet, before gradually gathering voices and instruments into a full-ensemble celebration. Familiar melodies return transformed, rising toward an accented and exultanthalleluia that forms the emotional summit of the album.
After this climactic moment, the music recedes into a gentle a cappella echo; a reminder of where it began, before the instruments lift it once more. It is a closing that feels communal, radiant, and complete.
In a world that often misunderstands or oversimplifies the Middle East, sharing this music feels like an act of truth and tenderness. These songs remind us that the region is not only a place of conflict or headlines, but a cradle of culture, spirituality, and extraordinary beauty.
For those who grew up with these melodies, this album may feel like coming home.
For those hearing them for the first time, I hope it offers a new way of experiencing Christmas, one that is closer to its roots, its land, and its heart.
The Sound of Bethlehem is my offering; a bridge between the carols I grew up loving and the traditions that shaped my identity. It is a reminder that Christmas belongs to many languages, many cultures, and many melodies.
My hope is simple:
May these songs bring warmth, connection, and truth to your season.
And may they remind us all that the story of Christmas began in a place filled not with snow, but with light, humanity, and song.
Shireen