Music as Meditation: Mourning for Strangers

     In 1936 Paul Hindemith performed his composition TrauerMusik (Music for Mourning) to mark the death of King George V of England. Hindemith was in London to play another concert, but the King's death caused the authorities to cancel the concert planned. Hindemith spent the better part of a work day—from 11:00 AM to 5:00 PM crafting an 8-minute piece for the funeral. The piece ends with a Chorale Hindemith knew from Bach—what is often called Bach's “deathbed chorale.”

     It is safe to say that Paul Hindemith, an up-and-coming composer of the time, never met King George V personally. That remove did not stop him from writing lachrymose funeral music. The composer himself played solo viola in the piece's first performance. He wrote at length about the experience in a letter dated 23 January 1936, saying he "did some pretty hefty mourning." and that in the end the performance was "very moving.” 

     

     In our world full of violence and injustice on one hand and ubiquitous news on the other, I find frequent reasons to feel something like grief for strangers. November's Music as Meditation includes some music that comes from such feelings and some music that embraces the light that is always waiting for us on the other side of grief. Chris Nourse and I will play TrauerMusik and another piece from the repertoire of Paul Hindemith for viola and piano. Amy Berrier joins us to play a Vivaldi concerto for two violas. Amy and Chris will present a duo by Telemann. A piece by J.S. Bach, the final movement of my second piano sonata, and a poem complete the program. The poem arrived almost whole in my mind this morning, after an evening of practice and preparation. I print it here: 

Mourning for Strangers

If

we are all connected,

truly one,

simply imperfectly and temporarily differentiated inalienable motes of spirit and matter.

Then

It is nigh logical

this grief I feel for the world,

for the children forced to perform and conform,

for the grown-ups trapped by wanting,

for those who die a violent death

the news of which violence travels through the rest of us left

in shock-waves through ether.

It is right that in this time

as I watch myself and my fellows spin through days denying our very nature

that I find myself

mourning for strangers.