Learning Music in Later Life
For the first fifty years of my life I was completely non-musical. Growing up in a middle eastern family it wasn’t a subject my parents considered ‘useful’. I admired school friends who took lessons in piano and violin, but sadly I wasn’t one of them. When I was first married, we lived in Glasgow and had a season ticket for Scottish Opera. During the intermissions I would peer down reverently into the orchestra pit and James would name the various instruments for me—back then I was unable to identify any except the violin! Remarkably, our four children all showed a great facility with music, and two of them are now professional musicians. After endless years of supervising their music practice, I wondered whether I too had the ability to learn music—or was I now too old?
Friends suggested that if I wanted to learn music in later life, I should choose a relatively unpopular instrument in the hope of ‘getting somewhere’ before being overtaken by infirmities of age! So I took their advice at face value and plumped for the viola, but learning to play it has been anything but easy. The viola is larger and heavier than a violin—in long passages it feels much like holding up a wardrobe with one arm! Also, since music written for the viola is invariably in the alto clef, that’s the only clef I learned. I still slightly panic if a passage on the stave continues in the commoner treble clef. Transposition? Forget it!
Despite these battles, I love my viola and never cease to be amazed at its potential. How is it that a basic wooden box with just four strings (the original structure has not changed in centuries) can be capable of tugging at one’s heartstrings with such infinite nuances of passion, and tenderness? When people of a similar age to me say how lucky I am to be able to play an instrument and how much they wished they could too, my response is invariably, “If I can do it, anyone can!”
Reflections on Jesus’ Sayings From the Cross by Guli Francis-Dehqani
The most generous of Christ’s seven final sayings is surely: Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do. This sublime act of forgiveness is the crux on which Christian doctrine is based. Ultimately it is God’s forgiveness of us that sets the standard for all acts of forgiveness. Guli’s reflection on these words in the light of her own brother’s murder is profoundly poignant, a reminder of the key message that we are to be in the world but not of the world. Unless we Christians learn to forgive the many injustices wrought by men against men, we can end up consumed by anger and regret.
