It’s no secret that I am an aficionado
of violin music, particularly the music of today’s most well-known violin
savant, Joshua Bell.
Last night, for my birthday, the
wife took me to see Bell perform live with the Academy of St. Martin in the
Fields orchestra. It was an all
Beethoven program, and it was amazing.
More than amazing, it was a religious experience.
Being particularly interested in
the violins, I spent most of the evening watching the violinists – especially Bell,
of course – as they performed the music.
As I watched, I noticed that the different violinists appeared to take
different approaches to their instruments and to the music.
For some, it was as though
musician and instrument were the best of friends, the musician gently tucking
her instrument under her chin and whispering to it with a quiet intensity –
sitting quite still and smoothly drawing the bow across the strings as. Musician and instrument – engaged, as it
were, in a delicate conversation.
Together, these two closest of
friends created the music, music of beautiful tone and elegant beauty. One could tell that these musicians and their
instruments belonged together.
For others, though, it seemed as
if the concert was a form of gladiatorial combat between musician and instrument
– a musical death match. No gentility
here. Instead, the musician grabs his
instrument and wrestles it into submission, pinning it to his shoulder and
raking the bow on its strings. Concertgoers
watch them exchange blows, as the musician jerks his body back one moment as if
struck and forward the next as if dealing a retaliatory blow. Yet somehow the force of the combat called
forth the best from both musician and instrument, resulting in a music no less
beautiful and all the more poignant for the battle that produced it.
Then there was Joshua Bell. Bell is one of those unique individuals for
whom the violin is neither friend nor foe – it is part of him. The distinction between Bell and his
Stradivarius is more than just blurred in the performance, it is removed
altogether. Instrument becomes an
extension of the man’s life, and he pours his heart into it. One might say it is like lovers, but even
that does not adequately capture the intensity of the union between Bell and
his instrument.
And the music! Oh, the music. It is almost too much to take. Words fail in describing its beauty, its
eloquence, the passion of its sound. One
watches Bell and quickly understands that making music is more than just a way
to make money. It is more than a hobby. It is something he must do. The music is there
inside of him and one gets the impression from watching him perform that
releasing that music is a catharsis, a necessary self-emptying without which he
would go mad.
It struck me as I was watching
that Bell was the living portrayal of something the prophet Jeremiah once said
when people told him to stop preaching:
“But if I say, ‘I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his
name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I
cannot.” (Jeremiah 20.9)
I have always enjoyed this verse
but, until last night, I have not completely understood it. It seemed like something cute to say about being
a pastor and my calling to preach. But
when I watched Bell in the throes of ecstatic revelation while playing, I
recognized that he not only got this verse (even if he’s never heard it), he lives this verse every time he performs.
And as I watched and listened in
silent awe last night, I felt the question arise unbidden in the deepest part
of my own being – is that how I feel about my calling? It is not music but gospel that wells up
inside of me – am I so passionately desperate to get that message out, to share
it with whomever might be listening that the very thought of not doing so drives me mad?
Or is gospel something I just
offer up each Sunday because that’s my job and it’s a way to make money to pay
the bills?
Joshua Bell is a prophet with a
violin. All of us who claim to have
something to share with the world would do well to catch a performance of this
modern day Jeremiah.
