As I write this, we’re currently in lockdown in my home
state of Georgia. Millions of people have been diagnosed with what was
originally thought to be a mysterious and quite aggressive form of pneumonia
after having visited one specific open-air market in China in late December
2019. By 2020, the disease was found to be a new pathogen, and the city where
the outbreak started (and the whole province)—close to 60 million people—were
on lockdown in China.
Another man said this about his Dutch wife’s past
experiences through World War II and how they relate to the current pandemic:
“…Her parents watched [Rotterdam] erupt in flames in May of 1940 and lived
through five years of occupation. As we cope with this pandemic, I remember the
courage of my Dutch family, I draw strength from knowing that people have
survived terrible times…”
My home country, the United States, got its first case in
February, in the state of Washington; my home state of Georgia was about a
month behind the first case in the country. In early March, we had 3 cases.
More than 24 thousand people in my state now have the disease, and the whole
country has 989 thousand cases—the most in the world—and worldwide, at least
3.06 million have contracted the virus, of whom more than 212 thousand have died.
We need to test people to see if they have or had the disease, but, especially
here in the United States, we can’t—there just aren’t enough tests. Millions
more may be infected and that we’ll never know for certain because they weren’t
tested, not because they chose not to be tested, but because they couldn’t be
tested since the tests they needed literally did not exist and could not be
made. Because of the severity of the disease we’ve been fighting—for months now
classified as a pandemic—the world economy is at a standstill; many countries
in Europe and many areas in my United States have been limiting economic
activity to only the bare essentials, often closing every business indefinitely
except those that make food, medicine, or things needed to fight the virus.
Hospitals are overrun. Doctors are desperate, some having to
make life-or-death calls, giving life to one patient and denying life to
another in a zero-sum game fighting over ventilators and experimental
treatments in dangerously low supply. Public health officials say that this is
the most serious affront to our national and global health systems since the
Spanish Flu of 1918 a century ago. To prevent the death toll of the Spanish Flu
pandemic, governments worldwide have put billions of people under
government-enforced lockdowns and stay-at-home orders, potentially for the next
several months, for their protection. The leading doctor fighting the virus
here in America says we may have to wait until 2022 for a vaccine, and even
longer until the vaccine is distributed widely enough that we can all consider
ourselves safe again and to have some semblance of a return tot normalcy, like
things were before the virus.
We are all scared, and we all need hope. Even for those of
us who have not yet been directly affected by the virus, it's an incredibly
treacherous time with so many unknowns: everywhere we look, we’re reminded of
the crisis, and every time we turn on the TV and check the news, it’s bad, and
very few people can give us sound information that tells us the end is really
in sight. The numbers have worsened: more have died, there are fewer available
hospital beds and ventilators, and there doesn’t appear to be any end in sight.
For musicians, it’s a tough time: the concert halls are
closed indefinitely, and some ensembles have had to disband entirely because
ticket revenue has fallen so much so suddenly. Doing what we love to do--
playing for audiences who love what we play-- is impossible right now. One of
the orchestras that shines brightly as an example of how to continue bringing
music and hope to the world even though we musicians can’t rehearse together,
let alone play in a packed concert hall for thousands at a time, is the
Rotterdam Philharmonic in the Netherlands. The musicians in that Dutch orchestra, at a time when their country currently has about 37,000 cases, came
together to give the world hope. The musicians came together via video from
wherever they were, and from living rooms and kitchens, each musician alone
played his or her part in the finale of Beethoven’s Ninth. As far as I can
tell, the choral part was reused from another one of the Rotterdam
Philharmonic’s recordings of the Ninth. The video, which went up on March 20,
2020 on the Rotterdam Philharmonic’s official YouTube channel, now has nearly
2.7 million views, 127 times as many likes as dislikes, and 2800 comments as of
when this was written in late April 2020. The video was probably put together
with next to no rehearsal time, and certainly no rehearsal time together, and
titled “From us, for you,” has been a tremendous source of hope through the
desolation and devastation of the pandemic. Even though this performance didn’t
happen in one of the grandest concert halls in Europe led by an all-time great
conductor for an audience who paid for a ticket to see a concert, it still
managed to touch the hearts of millions of viewers. That’s the power of the
Ninth: whenever or however we hear it, it’s an instrument of hope, of healing,
of comfort.
I’d like to share some of the comments posted on the video.
This one is from a doctor actively working to end the
pandemic “Thank you – as an ER physician dealing with the repercussions of this
global tragedy, it is beautiful to have reminders of why we are putting our
lives at risk every day. You have touched my heart and given me, and others,
strength to keep being what we are - doctors - because of what you are -
artists....”
An Indonesian doctor said this “I am a physician in
Indonesia. I lost it when the chorus came in. Thank you.”
This commenter included a quote from Washington Irving, an
American writer roughly contemporaneous with Ludwig van Beethoven. The
commenter said: “‘There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of
weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.
They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of
unspeakable love.’ [ –Washington Irving] Thank you for giving me Joy 💖.”
This commenter speaks
of the immense emotional impact even an impromptu performance under the
strangest of circumstances, like this one, can have: “When I saw all the
comments saying how they cried unexpectedly, I didn't think I would cry but I
did. This hit me so hard, thank you so much. Music can heal.”
This commenter points out that authentic joy is transcendent
over even the most crippling illnesses or physical disabilities, like Ludwig
van Beethoven was: “A deaf man that knows what joy would sound like is a great
testament to the potential greatness of humanity.” An American commenter wrote
this: “This brought tears to my eyes. Music is the universal language. Thank
you and much love from America. 🧡🧡🧡”
Another commenter contrasts the desolation of today with the
hope of tomorrow: “Literally crying at the end. It's difficult to explain how
powerful this music is. This song has survived so many ugly events in human
history. Yet, it remains beautiful. Thank you, Rotterdam philharmonic
orchestra. You have shown us exactly what context our current worries exist in.
In the existence of this song, Rotterdam was cruelly burnt to the ground. The
citizens of the Netherlands experienced unimaginable suffering, yet the song
survived. Now the citizens of Rotterdam can proudly perform the music, just
like the generations before them. I know coronavirus is terrifying, and it has
deeply harmed my personal life. But we will survive this crisis, just like
Beethoven's symphony. There will be a time when symphony halls across the world
will be full again.”
Another commenter on the transcendence and historical
importance of this performance, despite it not being in as grand a setting or
with as illustrious a conductor as the other monumentally influential
performances I'll discuss in that section of my upcoming book. “No concert, no
lesson, no future musical event will ever be more important or as powerful as
these last 4 minutes. Thank you for sending such an uplifting message in such
tumultuous times. God Bless.”
This commenter speaks to the universality of the healing
power of music, our common language: “This is why music is SO important. In a
language that we can all relate to, all feel and all bond. Thank you! Thank
you! Thank you! For sharing your gifts with us all in time where we need hope,
love and song. Beautiful!”
On the uniting power of music: “This is so beautiful I'm
crying. If only the world would come together like this at all times. Thank
you!!”
Another similar video was released at around the same time
by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra, based in Denver, Colorado. There, 544
thousand people have seen the video, there have been 136 times as many likes as
there have been dislikes, and there have been about 490 comments as of when
this was written in late April 2020. Here’s a sampling of those comments.
“We may be remote but we are STILL musicians and we can
still touch souls.... We need our music and those around us virtually need it
as well…”
“I started tearing up watching this. If you'd brought in a
full choir, I would have straight-up broken down. Wonderful job, all of you.”
“The arts are what make us human, both in good times and
times of difficulty. Everyone of these individuals, everyone of these
instruments is unique and different and yet when they come together, they bring
peace, beauty and joy. Thank you to each of these musicians for sharing this
beauty. May we all learn a lesson that when we come together, in our
uniqueness, we can make beautiful things happen. I so enjoyed this amazing
rendition of Beethoven's Ode to Joy, last movement of his 9th Symphony. Thank
you!”
“Brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing your gift
of music with us at this time.”
“I'm in tears. Thank you so much for sharing joy in this
time of uncertainty. Blessings on each of you."
“Thank you so much for this beautiful song! I think it's so
amazing that us musicians can still play together, even under the current
circumstances!”
“Music is essential in crisis. It gives you courage.”
Using online tools to translate their comment from Japanese,
I found that one person wrote “I will be healed. I pray that all the hearts of
the world will be healed. Thank you for the wonderful music.”
“Thank you. In a time
of distancing you all model music togetherness. And bring out individual gifts
for the gift of shared music. Thank you”
One of the great
miracles of this symphony is the hope that this melody and its lyrics inspire
in all of us: "Alle Menschen werden Brüder." "All men will be
brothers." Leaning on each other and on our music for strength and
encouragement, we'll make it through the crisis. These past few months have
been difficult, and there are many more difficult months ahead. But do not be
afraid. Now, while many of us are scared, let us remember that we have each
other, and let us take comfort in each other's company, and in the beautiful
music and memories we can create together, even in the midst of a global crisis
because hope, music, and love transcend anything. Anchoring ourselves by our
music, let us not lose one of the things that matters most: our hope. Stay
strong, my friends.
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