CONCERT

Russian National Orchestra. Photo credit: RNO

On Monday Tiiu and I travelled to Buenos Aires to hear the Russian National Orchestra playing in a Jewish Synagogue Amijai.

With the first chord tears started falling. But it was not of joy, nor of sadness. Something deep shifted with that first harmony and with all the ones that followed. The vibration of one perfect synchrony filled the temple.  All those individuals mastering their instruments to perfection put them into the service of a melody created before any one of them was born. There was a director who lead, an outstanding soloist,  and of course the orchestra -  forming one body, yet at the same time each of them alone.  And then there were us, the listeners - sitting quietly listening to what Beethoven, Tšaikovsky, Dvorac, Piazzola and Bach had to say.

The image reminded me of something. But what? It was more than a symphony, perhaps a metaphore.  What could such a picture mean? A melody created long time ago, everybody in its service. A special order of the players, a special task completed to perfection by all; could that perhaps be a picture of life? Where would we be in such a picture?

As the concert ended, the musicians left the stage and blended into the audience. For that brief moment moving towards the exit they became one with us - talanted Russian musicians, elderly Jews who had survived the holocaust escaping to Argentina, all other nations of all ages, among them Tiiu with her story and me with mine. All of us were holding our instruments - our lives, which only we knew how to master. And were were all soloists, supported by one great orchestra of our ancestors. The tune we played was old, yet as soloists we filled it with personal sense and feeling.

 Then I saw, how all those people, complete strangers to each other, became even a bigger orchestra,  where the melodies of all the lives formed one great harmony. And in that moment I felt the world was perfect. Just as it was. The only thing one had to do was Listen.