From the outside, the church looked drab and uninviting. One would never consider the magnificence that lay within. As I pushed open the heavy door to the Church of the Ascension, it creaked, yet no one turned to see me enter. The congregation was one – engrossed in the music that filled every corner, every crack inside.
The violinist stood under the highest part of the ceiling, which sent the music dancing from eave to eave. As his fingers and bow caressed the strings, I closed my eyes to appreciate the fullness of the acoustics. It seemed almost impossible that I was listening to only one instrument. The notes were so complex and the tune so tightly woven.
I opened my eyes. I had felt the need to see what it was that I was feeling. There was passion, there was pain and there was a loneliness coming from the violinist.
With his face and his body he was there with Bach. He felt the rise and the fall of melancholy. He felt Bach’s anger, and he felt Bach’s contentment. In forty-five minutes I too felt all this. As the last piece reached its crescendo, I could feel every muscle in my body wish it to continue. How cruel the world is to have such beauty come to an end.
As the last note echoed through the pews, the congregation did not move. Everyone was hoping to catch the last lingering note and keep it from disappearing forever. One set of hands started the slow appreciative applause, and slowly everyone joined in, until one could not clap any louder. The violinist turned to the people and gently bowed. As he stood upright again, his face beamed. He had touched these people, and this filled him with profound love and deep warmth.
9th July 2019
