It was a nondescript Friday morning in the L’Enfant Plaza subway station in downtown Washington, D.C. A then 39-year-old man, dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and Washington Nationals baseball cap, emerged from the subway and stood alongside a trash basket.
He opened the violin case that he was carrying and removed a Stradivarius violin, for which he had borrowed money to pay the purchase price of over $3 million.
Just three nights earlier, Joshua Bell, by then one of the most highly regarded classical violinists in the world, had performed for a sold-out crowd in Boston’s Symphony Hall. Tickets had cost as much as $100 each.
That Friday, Jan. 12, 2007, during the morning rush-hour commute, Bell performed anonymously and gloriously six exhausting and majestic classical violin pieces having cunningly placed only a few dollars in his open violin case. During the 43-minute performance, 1,097 would pass by Bell.
Gene Washington, a Washington Post staff writer, would win a Pulitzer Prize for his article on Bell and this social experiment that he set up. What would happen, Washington wondered, when some of the most beautiful music ever written and performed would be set amidst the daily hustle?
Would anyone stop to appreciate the beauty of the moment? Or would the music simply hum in the background of an oblivious crowd?
Of the 1,097 people who walked by, only seven stopped to hear the music for more than a minute; 27 people tossed in a total of $32.17 while hurrying on (excluding the $20 bill from someone who recognized Bell); and the rest rushed by unaware and unappreciative.
‘Numerous concertos’
As someone who took violin lessons for almost a decade and who played in, among others, the Milwaukee Youth Symphony Orchestra and on a string quartet on the Edelweiss Cruise Line, I hope that I would have been one of the seven who stopped for more than one minute to hear the master’s music.
I hope that my ear, attuned to classical violin music, would have impelled me to stop. I even hope that I would have been willingly late to my meeting or appointment to listen and revel for a few additional minutes.
I even like to imagine that I would have applauded and then been joined by an impromptu, delighted and appreciative crowd.
Truthfully, I cannot be sure that I would have been in the less-than-one-percent of the passersby who stopped to hear the music, let alone inspired a spontaneous audience.
Each High Holiday season, I remind myself of this story. I find myself, as do many of us now, preparing for the coming holiday season.
We get our homes ready for meals, we clear our schedules as much as possible to attend services, and we begin the process of reflection, introspection and t’shuvah (repentance) that define and distinguish these High Holy Days.
Nonetheless, I often feel as though I have not stopped to hear the music.
The majesty of the High Holidays is no less than that of a performance of Joshua Bell. Indeed, the High Holidays offer each of us numerous concertos.
Yet, I suspect that many of you, like me, tend to resemble most of the 1,090 passersby who stopped for less than one minute to appreciate Bell’s performance. We go through the High Holiday season like the rush-hour crowd at L’Enfant Plaza.
We might stop for a moment or two to appreciate the beautiful recitation of Kol Nidre, to reflect on an inspiring Rosh HaShanah sermon, to experience the exhilaration and relief of hearing the teki’ah gedolah of the shofar after our Yom Kippur fast, or to be mindful of the calm and fortitude born of a sincere repentance.
But, in the end, our minds, hearts and souls are often distracted by what will come next, tomorrow, rather than focused on the High Holiday season of today.
Please do not misunderstand me: I do not mean to be critical or judgmental. Indeed, our t’shuvah is sincere, our awe of the High Holidays genuine and our souls rejuvenated and refreshed.
I wonder each year, though, how much of the High Holiday virtuoso I have stopped to hear. I wonder how much more it could have penetrated my soul and life.
And I remind myself that not even Joshua Bell could play his violin more gloriously than the High Holidays can resonate throughout my life.
And, so, my hope and prayer for each one of us this High Holiday season is that we slow down, even stop, to hear its music. May we set aside the time, energy and attention that these days and weeks demand.
And, in doing so, may the music of the High Holidays reach our souls and inspire us to be the Jew and person we aspire to be.
In doing so, may we not only achieve our own potential, but may we, in turn, help the world become a place of which we are proud.
Shanah tovah umtukah: May we all have a happy and healthy New Year.
Rabbi Moishe Steigmann is director of Jewish Life and Learning and is school rabbi at the Milwaukee Jewish Day School.
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