A Religious Experience at the Symphony

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.