THE POWER OF ART TO CHANGE PEOPLE Alejandro Hernandez-Valdez All Souls Unitarian Church, New York City October 11, 2015 Good morning. While I am not a preacher, I am both humbled and honored that Galen has given me the opportunity to stand here this morning to tell you the story of the person leading the music at the back of the sanctuary. Galen asked me to share with you the story of my spiritual and musical journey to All Souls, which I am happy to do. I am a fortunate person, and I am grateful that week after week I get to share the gift of music with singers and instrumentalists who give their best in order to inspire, move, uplift, and empower the human spirit. Music has always been an important part of my life, and I strive each and every day to inspire other people to feel the same way I do about music. More importantly, however, I believe in the power of music to change people. One of my favorite quotes by Leonard Bernstein reads: "Art never stopped a war and never got anybody a job. That was never its function. Art cannot change events. But it can change people. It can affect people so that they are changed. Because people are changed by art enriched, ennobled, encouraged they then act in a way that may affect the course of events; by the way they vote, they behave, the way they think." The first time I felt changed by music was when I was ten years old. My mother had taken me to hear the Guadalajara Symphony, where my father was principal double-bassist. From that program there were two works that I remember: Richard Strauss's Don Quixote, and José Pablo Moncayo's Huapango. Strauss is, of course, one of the giants of Austro-German classical music, while Moncayo was a rather unassuming composer born in my hometown of Guadalajara, Mexico in the early part of the 20th century. I remember being very excited about hearing Don Quixote for the first time because I had just finished reading an adaptation of Cervantes's masterwork for children, which, of course, inspired Strauss s composition. The expertly crafted music began, took its course,
and after many, many minutes, ended. As an adult, I have learned to love and admire this impressive masterpiece, but as a ten-year-old, the music simply flew over my head and sunk me deeper and deeper into a state of complete boredom. Having given up any interest in the concert, and distracted by the intricate figures on the ceiling, towards the end of the program the first sounds of José Pablo Moncayo's Huapango began entering my ears. From the very first to the very last note I was completely mesmerized. The rhythms of my country, on which this piece is based, were so infectious that a visceral connection was immediately forged between music and me. At the end of the concert, the principal clarinetist, a friend of the family, greeted us, and with a big smile on his face, asked me: Did you like Don Quixote? Without hesitation I responded enthusiastically: No I liked Huapango! I think he may have been a little disappointed by my answer. During my first summer at the Aspen Music Festival, back in 2000, I got to hear Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 2 for the first time. For those of you who don t know this work, I would like to encourage you to seek an opportunity to listen to it live. Known as the Resurrection Symphony, Mahler s Second is one of the most moving and powerful works of art in history. Just like with the Moncayo of my childhood, on that occasion I was so moved by the music emanating from the stage that I felt embarrassed at the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. By the end of the performance my soul was full and my entire being was overcome by the transformative power of Mahler s music. After the concert I walked back to my room as in a trance and I don t think I was ever the same. These experiences are not exclusive to the concert hall and, in fact, they can sometimes be even more poignant in the context of a worship service. It is for that reason that I have dedicated a large part of my life to making music in the church. Following on the footsteps of Johann Sebastian Bach, who is, to me, the greatest musician that has ever lived, in the church I have found a perfect place for my musical expression to guide my spiritual existence. I am not, by any means, comparing myself to the great J. S. Bach, but, very much like him, I feel that making music to the glory of a higher entity and for the
elevation of the human spirit is a pretty nice and meaningful way for a musician to make a living. Although now music is part of my life just like water is part of a swimmer s life, the road to becoming a professional musician was, for me, not an easy one. I owe my love of music to my father, who as I mentioned earlier, was the principal-bassist of the Guadalajara Symphony Orchestra in Mexico. We were a family of very modest means -- my father had eight children to clothe, feed, and educate, and as a classical musician in a developing country, he struggled to make ends meet. From a very young age, however, I was exposed to great music. I also sang in the children s chorus and studied at the Escuela Superior de Musica Sagrada, which translates as Superior School of Sacred Music, where I trained to become a church musician, studying Gregorian chant, piano, organ, and composition. When I became a teenager, I suddenly lost interest in music and stopped taking lessons. After a hiatus of two years, a teacher from the United States, Richard Tetley-Kardos, who retired in my hometown, decided to take me on as a student. He motivated me to work hard and convinced me that, if I applied myself, I could perhaps become a pretty decent musician. I worked with him for a couple of years and made much progress. In early 1994 however, my father began having severe health issues. With my brothers and sisters committed to jobs and families of their own, I spent the better part of 1994 in a hospital helping my father and mother get through a very tough time. In early 1995, after a long battle, my father passed away, and his loss made my dream of becoming a musician seem impossible. After my father s death I applied to architecture school. Wanting to give proper closure to my musical studies, I put together a solo piano recital. At the performance, I met for the first time Dr. Harlan and Joy Snow who serendipitously found out about my performance while walking through the neighborhood where the concert took place. After the program ended, the Snows communicated to my brother, who was serving as translator, that they wanted to help me seek a musical education in the United States. They encouraged me to
send an application and recording of my playing to Shenandoah University in Winchester, Virginia, where Dr. Snow had previously taught. A couple months later I was offered a full four-year scholarship, plus room and board, to pursue a Bachelor s degree in piano performance at that institution. With the help of the Snows, who purchased my one-way flight to Dulles Airport, I arrived in the United States, unable to speak English but fully motivated to work as hard as I could to make sure that the wonderful opportunity that had been placed in front of me was not wasted. That single event changed my life. The generosity of the Snows changed my life. Music changed my life. Two days after President Kennedy s assassination, on November 24, 1963 Leonard Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic and the Schola Cantorum of New York in Mahler s Symphony No. 2 in a nationally televised JFK memorial. That day the impact of the music by the great Bohemian master was felt by thousands of mourning souls. The transformative power of this performance, on the heels of such a traumatic event, must have been enormous. On the evening of Monday, November 25, the United Jewish Appeal of Greater New York held its annual fundraising event at the Madison Square Garden. During that event, a changed Leonard Bernstein spoke the following words: Last night the New York Philharmonic and I performed Mahler s Second Symphony-- The Resurrection-- in tribute to the memory of our beloved late President. There were those who asked: Why the Resurrection Symphony, with its visionary concept of hope and triumph over worldly pain, instead of a Requiem, or the customary Funeral March from the Eroica? Why indeed? We played the Mahler symphony for the resurrection of hope in all of us who mourn him We musicians, like everyone else, are numb with sorrow at this murder, and with rage at the senselessness of the crime. But this sorrow and rage will not inflame us to seek retribution; rather they will inflame our art. Our music will never again be quite the same.
This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before. Unquote. If you think back over your life, what musical experience stands out above all the rest? How did the music make you feel? How did it change you? I would be deeply grateful if you would share your experience with me. I would like to know how music has moved you and changed you. You can send an email to Alejandro@allsoulsNYC.org or drop off your message for me at the front office. The role of music, as with all forms of art, is to change us so we can, in turn, change the world. This idea is the driving force behind every note I play, conduct, or jot down. Changing the world through word and music is also our goal each Sunday morning as we gather in this historic worship space. Thank you very much, and may music continue to inspire and change us each and every day.