Grace in Daily Life

I saw Baryshnikov dance, heard Kathleen Battle at her prime, and was twenty feet away from Yo-Yo Ma as he played the Bach Unaccompanied Cello Suites on the stage of Orchestra Hall. And now this.

Back in the early 1990’s, I lived near Chicago and had some truly life-altering opportunities to see and hear the best of the best in the arts. Certain memories are seared in my mind—with all of the accompanying sounds, lighting, and emotional expressions.

The slight squeak of Baryshnikov’s foot as he landed a jump. The ephemeral—and yet seemingly eternal—hover of the note-after-the-note of the ring of Ms. Battle’s final syllable. Collectively, as an audience, we held our breath to urge it on for one more intoxicating second. And to be seated on the stage, just a few feet away from Yo-Yo Ma, and not only hear but see those fingers, that smile, that bowing?

Well. Truly. These are not things that I will ever forget. And I use the term “ever” quite intentionally because I believe that, regardless of the state of the soul of the people creating this level of excellence in art; regardless the purpose or history of the forum that shelters both artist and audience; such transcendent beauty must be (even just the tiniest sliver of) a reflection of the Eternal Godhead Because these moments. These breaths. They are so other-worldly that they remind us of our True Home in Heaven to Come. They lift us out of the doldrums and monotony, fears and worries, horrors of life in this fallen world.

And man! Is true excellence in the arts fun! Edifying. So, so good.

Last night, in a tiny venue, in a tiny city (OK, the largest city in our state, but tiny nonetheless), I had one of these eternity-stepping-into-time moments. It was remarkable. I will never forget it. And I never would have expected it because our family is pretty fried right now with Fred doing two extra jobs on top of his full-time job while Sophie and I work hard to prepare for our service this week at the PCA Women’s Leadership Conference in Atlanta. I really just volunteered to help with tickets at the door because I wanted to serve the inimitable Janny Kirk (who is the only reason why two such outstanding, world-class musicians would be doing a workshop and concert for our small community).

Due to our sheer exhaustion, Sophie and I planned to leave at intermission. As the concert began, my mind was spinning with so many packing lists and to-do lists that I assumed I would spend 90 minutes keeping a polite look on my face, but only half being present and half-listening.

I could not have been more wrong.

When Nathaniel Smith and Jeremy Kittel played their opening notes and I heard the haunting, ethereal harmonics and overtones? The clarity of well-placed, well-bowed notes? Every chord perfectly (perfectly!) in tune (or brought to perfection by microtuning and even peg tuning—sometimes even while in the middle of a note)? Time stood still. Even my prone-to-race mind calmed down. I closed my eyes or stared, transfixed, at pegboards and bows. I could not believe that my daughter and I had ears to hear and eyes to see this level of excellence in this tiny room with cinder block walls and folding chairs—but with acoustics and sight lines that would rival box seats at Carnegie Hall.

It was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in Montana. Sophie is too young to know it yet, but it was the most beautiful thing she has ever heard—save the preaching of the Word and the voices of her father, mother, and sister who adore her. Apart from real love communicated through people, it was the most beautiful thing Sophia has ever heard in her young life.

 Yes. Sure. Of course. These young men are known for their fiddling and their fiddling was quite fun. Nothing like the blur of fingers and bow that make it abundantly clear why their bows require complete rehairing every two weeks. But it was the slow music that had me transfixed. Ensorcelled. Edified. They played a pavane that touched me so deeply I could not stop hot tears from streaming down my cheeks.

So if you ever have the chance to hear Jeremy Kittel and/or Nathaniel Smith in concert? Run, don’t walk. Break into those extra-special-saving-for-something-really-important funds and invest in the little glimpse of glory that your soul will experience.

God really is the Lord of All Creation! He generously and lovingly gave us eyes to see and ears to hear the beauty and splendor of HIM on that One (Good! Best!) Day. Until then, while with creation we wait and groan in longing, every once in a while, we get little breaths, little aromas of Him. This was my night last night and I hope that you get to experience something similar in this coming year.

What a generous God! I am grateful for the arts and for the Artist behind them all.

Blessings to you as you head into worship today!

Your friend,
Tara B.

PS
When I woke up before 4AM thinking about this topic, I wanted to anchor myself a bit in the Word re: the arts because I am a complete novice and layperson regarding such things. So I was grateful to find this article by Randy Randall, an apparent alumnus of the seminary where I am currently studying. It was a good read and I am grateful for it. I particularly enjoyed this quotation that he shared towards the end of his thesis:

Great art is “something like revelation. What is revealed has been there all the time, but it has gone unnoticed in our humdrum everyday experience. It needs the sensitivity of the artist to bring it to light, so that we notice things for the first time.” John MacQuarrie

I did not expect great art to meet me last night in my humdrum everyday experience. But it did. And I am grateful. 

2 Comments

  • Melissa Wilson

    Tara, this post brings back a sweet memory. I, too, got to see Baryshnikov dance (I think it was Giselle) In the mid to late 80s also in Chicago with my grandmother. My grandmother loved dance, she was actually a show-girl back in the day! Before the performance they made an announcement that Mr. Baryshnikov was hurt and unable to do some fancy step. However, when the time came he did the complete dance, my grandmother let out a small gasp and whispered “oh he did it”. Of course, my grandmother is long gone, but that sweet memory lives on. Not only has Sophie heard the most beautiful thing so far in her young life, she heard it with her mother!! A precious memory that will live on!! An everyday grace indeed.