END OF AN ERA

By Deryn

Sep 21, 2022

Sibelius monumnet Helsinki showing organ pipes that are tree trunks of the forest

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument,

Music becomes a voice for change

I have long believed that the arts serve purposes far beyond decoration. A painting can tell a story. A poem can preserve a memory. A novel can give a forgotten person a voice. Drama and dance are transient vehicles for storytelling. And music? Music can bring people together.  have seen something of this for myself in my travels. I have stood before the monument to Jean Sibelius in Helsinki, Finland, and I have visited Estonia. Standing in those places, knowing something of their history, gives a different meaning to the music. You begin to understand that these were not simply composers writing beautiful melodies. In times of oppression and uncertainty, music can become a vessel carrying the identity of an entire people.

Music when a nation finds its voice

Consider Finland. For more than six hundred years, Finland was part of the Swedish realm. In 1809, it passed from Sweden to the Russian Empire and became an autonomous Grand Duchy. During the nineteenth century, a growing Finnish cultural movement sought to strengthen a distinct national identity. The Kalevala compiled from Finnish oral poetry, became an important expression of that identity. Artists, writers, and musicians began to give Finland a language of its own, not necessarily a political language, but a cultural one.

Sculpture of Sibelious Head, Helsinki

Photo Pixabay, Sibelious Monument

Then came Sibelius. In 1899, during a period of increasing Russian pressure and attempts at Russification, Sibelius composed the music that would become Finlandia It was originally part of a series of historical tableaux presented at the Press Celebrations in Helsinki. The final section, known as “Finland Awakes,” stirred something deep in the Finnish people. Finlandia became a symbol of Finnish nationalism. When I stood before the Sibelius monument, I wasn’t just viewing a memorial to a famous composer. It reminded me of what happens when art helps people remember their identity. Sibelius helped give Finland a sound, and sometimes people need a sound before finding a voice. Organ pipes represented the trees of the forest; forests go deep into the psyche of the Finnish people, a voice that resonated with them.Estonian Music Festival Stand

Estonia sang its way toward freedom

I experienced a similar feeling when I visited Estonia. Domination by powerful neighbors has marked Estonia’s history, and during the Soviet period, language and national identity were under pressure. Yet Estonia had an extraordinary cultural treasure: its singing tradition.

The Singing Revolution of the late 1980s demonstrated just how powerful that treasure could become. Hundreds of thousands of Estonians gathered at the Tallinn Song Festival Grounds and sang traditional and patriotic songs together. They sang Mu isamaa on minu arm, “Land of My Fathers, Land that I Love,” a song that had become deeply associated with Estonian identity. They also sang the patriotic songs of composer Alo Mattiisen.Music of Estonian Dancers

Estonian Folk Dancers, Video - Deryn van der Tang

This was nonviolence; they were not taking up arms, they were raising their voices. By 1989, the movement had grown into the remarkable Baltic Way, when people in Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania joined hands in a human chain stretching across the three Baltic countries. Music had helped people remember they belonged to something larger than the political system that governed them.

The music that defied ruins

Then there is Sarajevo. During the terrible siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s, cellist Vedran Smailović became known as the “Cellist of Sarajevo.” After twenty-two people were killed while waiting for bread, Smailović returned to the devastated area and played Albinoni’s Adagio in G minor in their memory. Picture a city under attack. Amidst the broken buildings and people living in fear, a man sits with his cello and plays. The music could not stop the bombs, nor could it bring the dead back. But it declared something profound:

Beauty had not been destroyed. Human dignity had not been destroyed, and the human spirit had not been destroyed. That is the power of the arts.

Why do the arts matter?

When we talk about social change, we often think about politicians, protesters, legislation, and movements. And, of course, these matter. But underneath every movement is something deeper: a story about who we are and what we believe is worth preserving. Artists help us tell that story. A composer can give a nation a melody. Poets can preserve a language. Painters can capture a landscape that becomes part of a people’s memory. A storyteller can take the ordinary life of one family and reveal something universal about courage, suffering, and hope.

Perhaps that is why oppressive regimes have so often tried to control language, literature, music, and art. They understand something we sometimes forget: culture holds memory. And memory gives people identity.

The Bible tells us, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver” (Proverbs 25:11).

Sometimes someone speaks, paints, sings, or writes that word.

The arts may not change the world overnight. Yet, they have the power to shift how people view the world. And once people see differently, they may begin to think differently, hope differently, and eventually act differently.

As I think about Finland, Estonia, and many other places I have traveled, I remember that the arts form a vital part of human society. They are part of our inheritance; they carry the stories of those who came before us. They inspire courage in those struggling today and plant seeds of hope for future generations. Perhaps that is why music has such extraordinary power.

A single voice may be silenced, a single instrument broken, yet a song alive in people’s hearts proves much harder to destroy.

And sometimes, when a people begin to sing together, the world begins to listen.

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 -Queen in CarrraigeThese past two weeks have seen the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, the great pageantry that only the British can do well to honor her life. I have watched with interest as the week of mourning passed, the lying-in-state, through the Service at Westminster, the ride home to Windsor, and her final interment to eternal rest. These events and places stirred up many memories. I reflected on her life and how she has always been a constant, regardless of where I lived.

I ask for my readers’ indulgence as I reminisce over the years.

I was a child of about six when George VI died on February 6th, 1952. We were on holiday in Fishhoek, Cape Town, Union of South Africa, when the newspaper was brought to our hotel room announcing the King’s death. Even then, I had a knot in my stomach; what would happen now? That sense of uncertainty when an important person is no longer there. Those same feelings came to me on the announcement of Queen Elizabeth II’s death. The constant presence of a trusted leader is gone, and the uncertainty of what the new monarch will bring to the world.

Crown and Candle

1953 was a Royal Year for us in Southern Rhodesia. First, the Coronation on June 2nd, 1953, I received my Coronation mug and Commemorative booklet from the City of Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia, via the primary school I attended. The Coronation was followed by the visit of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret to Salisbury, as they were represented by the Queen to open the Rhodes Centenary Exhibition in Bulawayo and to lay the foundation stone for the University College of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. The Federation of Rhodesian and Nyasaland was formed with the three British colonies, Southern and Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland, in August 1953. This Federation only lasted ten years, dissolving in 1963 when the ‘Winds of Change’ blew through Africa. Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother returned four years later, in July 1957, as Chancellor and President of the University College, which was declared a non-racial island of learning, open to all races to fulfill their dreams. We lined the streets, waving our union jacks as the Queen Mother drove to Government House.

QE BADGE

I attended the Queen Elizabeth Girls High School, for which I will forever be grateful for our outstanding education. This was a time of real political upheaval in Africa, and the new Queen Elizabeth II’s government had to negotiate with all the former British Colonies demanding independence from Britain. There was upheaval throughout Africa as not only the British but Portuguese and French colonies claimed their new independent status. These countries changed their name as the new state was formed, Northern Rhodesia became Zambia, and Nyasaland became Malawi. Rhodesia was already self-governing, but it was not as simple as just changing to Rhodesia as there was a protracted dispute over the terms to be fully independent of Britain. South Africa had already become a Republic in 1961and left the British Commonwealth. The stalemate between the Rhodesia Government and the British government between 1964 and 1965 led to the Unilateral Declaration of Independence on November 11th, 1965, by Ian Smith’s government. Again, my stomach knotted as a young adult and bride-to-be in my first job. What would happen now? The following years must have been tough for Queen Elizabeth II as her former colony was at war, in many cases, brother fighting brother. She remained dignified, and her crown must have felt very heavy at times in her interviews with her Prime Ministers.

Ian Smith
I will fast forward to the years I lived in the UK, as this post is about the late Queen and her continuous presence. Fifty years had passed since the Rhodesian Light Infantry (RLI) formed. On September 24th, 2011, I was privileged to attend the 50th Anniversary Celebration service on the Banks of the River Lea in Hertfordshire on the property of Lord Salisbury, Hatfield House. A 5-gun salute by the Royal Artillery, a fly past of a Hunter aircraft, and a 1-gun salute from the Queen concluded this very moving ceremony: healing the past breach.

50TH ANNIVERSAY FOR RLI

 

While living in England, I had the privilege of visiting some of her properties, which she graciously allowed the public to visit when she was not in residence. I have been to Sandringham, Windsor, and Buckingham Palace several times. A friend who got tickets to see her leaving the property in Windsor and driving by carriage to Ascot kindly took me to get a close-up view of her Majesty. He also took me on informed visits to Windsor and Buckingham Palace, explaining the history and rituals. Watching Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral proceedings reminded me of the places I have walked where she has walked and how history has a habit of repeating its cycles. The monarchy in England has thousands of years of history, where generation after generation of kings or queens has trodden those paths, each one standing on the shoulders of their predecessor. Queen Elizabeth II is a hard act to follow. Her constant presence, graciousness, and care for her people, even while facing monumental problems in her Empire and Commonwealth, and in later years, her family, kept her nation together.

 

Faithfully every year, she would give her Christmas message to share her faith in God, hope, and encouragement for the future, a silver thread that hung every year of her reign like a jewel on her crown, keeping the continuity of her Kingdom. We will miss that. As she was laid to her final rest at King Georges Chapel, Windsor, the chosen hymn was, “All my hope on God is founded.” For a Sovereign of the Realm, there is no one else to give you hope, Queen Elizabeth II relied on God for her wisdom, and her faith carried her through her 70-year reign. The service ended with the Benediction from the Common Book of Prayer. The Queen’s era has come to an end. As we think of her life, may it inspire us to live in that generous space of faith, hope, and love.
Go forth into the world in peace.

Be of good courage.
Hold fast to that, which is good.
Render to no one evil for evil.St Georges Chapel, Windsor
Strengthen the fainthearted.
Support the weak.
Help the afflicted.
Show love to everyone.
Love and serve the Lord,
rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit;
and the blessing of almighty God,
the Father, the + Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always. Amen. 

The Queen's final Resting Place - King Georges Chapel, windsor

 

 

 

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