Thoughts on the Finnish Music Scene

 

Last fall, conductor Nils Schweckendiek, born in Germany, won the Pacius Prize for his outstanding contribution to the Finnish music scene (more specifically, his interpretation of modern music). In his interview with HBL, I was deeply saddened to learn that his teacher from the Sibelius Academy encouraged him to go home after graduation, stating matter-of-factly that ¨Finland is for Finnish conductors.¨ That was fifteen years ago, and thankfully, Nils didn't listen to that advice, but has instead continued to make music both here in Finland and abroad. 

 

This term, I had the pleasure of attending my colleague¨s course on Finnish Music History and to my surprise, the Helsinki he described in the early 1900s was bustling with musicians from Russia and Sweden, as well as other parts of Europe. At the same time, a newly independent Finland (Finland gained independence in 1918) was intent on strengthening her national identity, and this was naturally best expressed in the form of culture -- for example, we have quite a few Finnish operas, and they are distinctly Finnish in scope.

 

I've been pondering over Nils' experience and thankful that he dared to share so openly. I find it natural that Finns are happy to hear of the successes of Finnish musicians working all over the world, but at the same time, somewhat disconcerting that these same people would even feel the need to comment on the number of musicians from abroad who are working in our orchestras locally. Music by nature transcends language and nationalistic boundaries -- one look at Western music history should be enough to remind us of this (Handel the German, who studied in Italy and went to England to produce Italian opera, is but one well-known example of this).

 

Attitudes towards those who are ¨foreign¨ or ¨different¨ often run in our subconscious, and are much harder to address than blatant discrimination. Not too long ago, I myself was recommended for a church music gig in Finnish, and when I contacted the person in question (in Finnish), I was politely told that since all the music was in Finnish, they would find someone else. Thankfully, these kinds of things haven't happened very often and in fact, I have been welcomed in Finnish speaking churches in many parts of the country, but it was a stark reminder that we have a long way to go in this area.

Seriously Offended

 

A few weeks ago, I participated in a meeting with a guest speaker who stated that he didn't feel women should be in positions of leadership in the church. At the same time, he was quick to acknowledge that this was his personal conviction and that there are indeed many women who have been given leadership roles in various contexts. He didn't believe this was right, based on his reading of the Bible.

I immediately had a flashback to one of my first teaching jobs, where the administrator who signed my contract also questioned the decision of those who had chosen to hire me -- not on the grounds of my CV, but because I was a woman, and a minority at that. Fortunately, I got the job.

In both cases, I started to feel a defensive wall of anger build up around me, as these kinds of statements threaten my identity deeply. At the same time, I've worked most of my life in a traditionally male-dominant field and have fortunately had some great mentors, most of them male. Some of my most memorable conversations have transpired over afternoon tea or a leisurely lunch. I count myself very blessed in this regard.

When I sat down and pondered over my own feelings more deeply, I started to realize that somehow, somewhere, our society has managed to ingrain in us the misconception that those who hold a different worldview, perspective, lifestyle choice or opinion from our own, are automatically labelled as inherently bad. This is simply not true, and furthermore, taking immediate offense, as I did, inhibits any productive discussion or even meaningful relationships we could potentially build. God has given us both free will and the ability to reason and think for ourselves, and although we often argue that we (and usually those closest to us) are right and everyone else uneducated or misinformed, if we really stop to examine this paradox, we should come to the ultimate conclusion that it's not possible for all the inhabitants of the earth to agree on any one subject. 

Do I believe that women should be given equal opportunities, both in the church and in working life -- absolutely! However, I can also respect others who see things differently from me, and that it is really important that I leave them room to voice these opinions, even though they might threaten my own choices directly or indirectly. At the moment, corona restrictions have severely limited our social circles and chances are, we are only spending regular time (online or in person) with those who share similar views to our own and this is potentially more dangerous than covid itself. As a society, we will probably see the consequences for decades to come, unless we start to make a conscious choice to give space for others with differing opinions, without becoming immediately offended.

 

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If I had only known how very painful this season of my life would be, I would have begged God to spare me, just as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Three weeks ago, one of my close friends suddenly passed away. When her mother called early one morning, I thought to myself,  ¨what a pleasant surprise -- she surely has a special event in mind for when we get out of lockdown.¨ Alas, it didn't take long to relay the news and I will never forget the feeling of utter despair and immense shock that immediately flooded every part of me. The days that followed were a blur of calls and text messages, accompanied by a myriad of questions. During the first week, I found myself suddenly waking up in the middle of the night, only to realize I had been crying in my sleep, and I began to wonder if things would ever be normal again. 

     ¨Blessed are those who mourn,     
     For they shall be comforted.¨ Matthew 5:4

Losing a loved one is never easy, but the isolation of the corona pandemic made it all the worse for me. I\d already been spending way too much time by myself, and now I was alone with all my thoughts and questions. I quickly discovered that not all well-meaning friends and acquaintances make good listeners and I spent more energy assuaging others' fears than actually managing my own grief. I eventually learned to turn off my phone and kept in touch with a select few who patiently allowed me to express my sorrow openly, without feeling the need to respond with platitudes. 

About a year ago, another close friend passed away from diabetic complications after four months in the hospital. I had hoped beyond all hope and prayed fervently that she would recover and I was devastated when several days after being released from the ICU, she died. I spent the next couple of months depressed and angry at God -- here was someone who spread joy and laughter and had the best sense of humor, and whose presence would be very much missed here on earth. It didn't make any sense to me at all. I finally came around when I realized that I could rely on God's character, even if I didn't understand His ways. I still don't have any answers, but because the Lord has shown up time and time for me, I know I can still trust Him, even in the midst of the fiercest storm.

The good news is that the lesson that I learned last year has remained with me up until the present time, because although I don't think I have ever cried this much in my (adult) life as I have in the past three weeks, I know I can still completely trust God's character and that He knows what He is doing. 

My last phone call with Niina was the week before her death. Due to the pandemic, we'd already been talking on the phone more often than normal and on this particular day, we'd first exchanged several voice messages (a habit we started a long time ago, possibly due to both my busy schedule and general reluctance to write in less-than-perfect Swedish). We'd been talking about opening one's heart, and what it means to learn to love and somewhere in our voice messages as a side note, I mentioned how God doesn't see our past mistakes, because when we decide to allow Jesus into our lives, He forgives us completely. Niina called immediately and thanked me for the words I'd said -- they clearly meant a lot to her. We proceeded to talk about our life dreams -- articulating them seemed foreign to me, but not for Niina, who loved planning and always saw the positive in everything. It certainly did not occur to me then that this would be our last phone conversation, but I think God knew and orchestrated it perfectly.

Two days before her death, Niina and another choir friend went to the cherry blossom park near Niina's home. The weather was warm and we brought snacks, a blanket and a bottle of light sparkling wine. We took plenty of pictures. When evening came and we parted ways, despite the pandemic, Niina and I hugged. I never knew it would be our last, but I am glad this was our final memory together here on earth.

I've heard that dealing with grief comes in layers, and I am experiencing that right now. I've already caught myself numerous times thinking that I would call Niina to ask her opinion on something. A couple of days ago, a friend sent a mystery sound clip to a group I was part of, and I immediately recognized my own choir -- and Nina's strong alto coming through. 

Despite the pandemic, Niina's family very graciously invited me to the funeral. I think it hit me then that we wouldn't be sharing any more choir rehearsals, trips to the park, bus rides across Finland, dinner parties or late-night telephone calls here on earth. We sang one of Niina's favourite songs that so aptly captures her relationship with her heavenly father:

     ¨I love Your voice
     You have led me through the fire.
     In darkest night, You are close like no other.
     I've known You as a father 
     I've known You as a friend.
     And I have lived in the goodness of God.¨ 

I knew in my heart when the corona lockdown began, that I would not come out the same. I knew already then that God wanted our attention, our hearts and even our tears. I didn't know that this fire would hurt this much, but I have also seen very clearly that if we allow God to love us, He holds us in His almighty arms -- and that not even sickness, loneliness, natural disasters, political unrest nor death can separate us from His great love.

¨

  

                 

Listening to music and how it might impact our understanding of the corona virus.

Before the corona virus epidemic, I had been working as a freelance music critic, writing for our national Swedish newspaper. This means, I have had the pleasure of going to lot of concerts, and each time, I listen attentively and I bring what I know about music to my writing. Although I've studied and been engaged in music all my life, I openly admit that many of my opinions are often a question of taste -- just because well-known Finnish vocal quartet Fork's most recent show didn't move me, doesn't mean that others won't enjoy them. I find it fascinating to read reviews of concerts I have myself attended, and it intrigues me how educated musicians listen and respond so differently to music.  

Tonight, the Finnish government held a press conference and announced plans to slowly lift the many restrictions that have put the country in isolation for the past six weeks. My greatest fear since the epidemic began in China has surprisingly not been that I would myself fall sick, although I also belong to one of the many risk groups. My greatest fear is how we are judging and pointing fingers at each other for our actions and values, and at the moment, most of this is done online. Our spoken and unspoken need to protect ourselves and our families (granted, a very valid reason!) is clouding our view when it comes to dialoguing and listening to others. This is about to escalate once the country begins to open up, moving from online to in-person encounters, unless we as a society consciously do something about it. I'm just as guilty of this as anyone else, so this post speaks to my heart and I hope it speaks to yours too.

The first big pitfall the world at large is falling into is that of blaming nations for the onslaught of the virus. These conspiracy theories don't really accomplish anything. I understand our innate need to find answers, but when a good friend's teenage daughter was quite recently harassed on the street in Finland for being Chinese, I boiled up in rage. 

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine wanted to suggest a walk, and began the conversation by asking, ¨how many people have you seen lately?¨ I gave my answer, and received a rather condescending, ¨oh... that's still quite a lot of people.¨ I resisted the temptation of pointing out that I hadn't taken public transportation in weeks, neither had I been to the downtown area, knowing full well that my friend did both on an almost daily basis. If every dinner invitation, concert event, work meeting or walk in the park is going to be preceded by a mini-interrogation, I'm afraid we're going to end up at home and very lonely.

When I attend a concert, I try to put aside my personal biases, feelings and even mood (fortunately, I am usually in a good mood when I get to hear live music!) so that I can focus on the performance I am about to review. Unfortunately, this skill has been somewhat lost in our corona-panic and is instead manifesting in our voracious need to hoard things such as toilet paper, yeast and pasta. As it turns out, hoarding might be a safer side when it comes to coping methods, at least in Finland.

We've forgotten a few basic principles. Although the virus can affect anyone and is not a respecter of persons, we are still not all in the same boat. While some people, like me, are forced to work from home and make drastic changes to how they do their job, others might have the exact same workday, but instead they risk their lives daily when they leave the house and go to work. Parents are struggling to balance homeschooling which makes them less able to focus on their jobs -- and in many cases, happy that school is starting up again. Those who already struggled with loneliness and depression before the epidemic are at a real risk of withdrawing even further. We also should not forget the elderly and those in risk groups who have not seen their family or friends in weeks. The very fact that there is an indefinite timeline to when they might be able to safely begin to appear in public, is in itself a rather disheartening and  all-consuming thought to ponder alone in isolation.

In addition, some people adapt well to change, while others are struggling with what to cook for lunch every day (I admit I had this problem during our first week at home!). Then there are those who have strong social networks to fall back on -- and others who are not yet able to admit or articulate their fears even if they knew who to call.

We're not in the same boat and even worse, we've forgotten how to listen and how to show empathy. A friend courageously shared her feelings about the anonymity of mask-wearing on Facebook, and I was aghast to read the heartless response of others. We listen to react with our strong opinions, because we naturally believe that we are right and that we are entitled to our opinions. We've forgotten that Jesus went to the cross -- not because He felt like it, but because it was the will of His father, and He did it because He loves us. Our best response is to listen for the sake of listening and to love because Jesus loved us first. 

Unlike my concert reviews, where I'm supposedly a so-called expert on music, the corona virus is a very new thing and hardly any of us can call ourselves experts -- any scientific findings are really in the initial stages and not enough grounds by which to start daily debates. We are not in the same boat, but we are in this together, so let's ask God to show us how to keep our hearts soft and our ears open even in our day-to-day lives so that our new-found freedom is also an opportunity to bless others. 

The Meaning of Easter during the Coronavirus Epidemic

Today is Easter Sunday, and I woke up this morning to see that even all of Facebook proclaims the good news -- Christ is risen from the grave! I started to think -- what does this powerful and joyful message mean for us today? 

We are celebrating a different kind of Easter this year. The great cities of the world are in lockdown – hotels, restaurants, bars, airports, theaters, sporting events and even churches sit in empty silence. Here in Finland, our province has been closed off from the rest of the country with police guarding our borders vigilantly round the clock, meaning many families are separated at a time when we would otherwise be gathering together. In the span of a mere few weeks, millions of people have lost their jobs and are confused about the future, while others brave the terrors of a still relatively unknown disease daily to save the lives of the countless patients in our nations’ hospitals and care homes. Many have lost friends, family and loved ones, and the fear of sickness is undoubtedly prevalent, whether we are able to articulate it or not. 

The message of Easter, that Jesus, the son of our almighty God, willingly went to the cross, ¨was wounded for our transgressions, was bruised for our iniquities,¨ (Isaiah 53:5) and rose in victory so that we would be granted eternal life, is one which we are well familiar with, but it takes on a much different meaning this year in light of our current circumstances. Jesus did not only go to the cross so that we would have a secure future after death – the Bible also tells us that ¨by His stripes we are healed,¨ and that He came ¨to heal the brokenhearted, and to proclaim liberty to the captives, to comfort all who mourn, to give beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning.¨(Isaiah 61). That’s a lot of good news! This means that even today, we know that God is in control of our situation and our world, and that we can trust Him with our lives, even if we are afraid or don’t completely understand what is going on. 

The power of the resurrection is as relevant today as it was 2000 years ago, because Jesus never changes and His love and grace are totally beyond our comprehension. It is my prayer this Easter even as we sit in our homes, unable to attend church, that we would come to truly understand how deeply Jesus loves us and how much He longs for us to trust Him completely. This, my friends, is ultimately the message of Easter.

Christ is risen! Hallelujah!