Music and the circle of belonging

Present Music’s annual Thanksgiving concert is a yearly tradition in Milwaukee, WI. After last year’s Covid cancellation, a near sell-out crowd filled a cathedral for this year’s “Thanksgiving: Circle Unbroken”—a stunning celebration of music and community. As we emerged from the event, we were greeted by the picturesque perfection of over 100 lighted Christmas trees in the city park across the road. The concert, the lights, and even the cold air were glimpses of hope and normalcy in this abnormal time.

A few minutes later I learned that in Waukesha, 25 miles away from where I sat in that concert, a career criminal deliberately drove his SUV through a holiday parade, murdering 6 and gravely injuring others. For the loved ones of the victims, the circle was broken, along with the bodies and lives of so many innocent people. The knowledge that senseless killings like these happen everywhere, every day, only makes things worse.

I’ve long believed that music can be a force for good. It contains the power to heal, to rejoice, and to expand our hearts. And yet, in the face of senseless tragedy, poverty, despair, violence, and disease, hopelessness can appear to be the only reasonable response. In these moments, making music feels about as effective as whistling in a hurricane. But these moments are when music is needed the most.

This has been a hellish couple of years for all of us. In cities and towns around the world, senseless tragedies and violence threaten to break our hearts to the point that we shut down and succumb to rage and despair. Because music thaws us in ways no words ever can, it offers a different response. If we let it, music reminds us that as violent and broken humanity may be, we’re also capable of community, beauty, and heart-melting kindness and compassion. And because music contains the power to enter into the tiny crevices of our hearts, we’re given the opportunity to choose: despair or hope; bitterness or compassion. Our response is up to us.

Here’s what I know: through notes that lie deeper than language, we find connection, healing, and hope. Through our music-making, we offer these things to others. Through teaching, mentoring, and arts advocacy, we train others in this sacred, healing art. Through millions of little moments of beauty, we contribute to all that is good and sacred in life. This healing beauty dares to stare down hurricanes of rage and pain because somewhere, someone else may hear the simple notes we create and choose hope over despair. 

This is where we learn that despite our collective brokenness, on the deepest level, we all belong to the unbroken circle of humanity.

This is where we learn that music is love, made audible.