I went to a concert at Maryville University last Monday, two days before Ash Wednesday, for a cello recital by Daniel Lee, the principal cellist with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. He played four pieces, the first three accompanied by a faculty member, pianist Peter Henderson. Those three sonatas, by Schubert, Debussy and Brahms, were beautiful and moving. The cello and piano intertwined in movements that were, in turn, playful, dark, moody, dramatic, contemplative and searching. I was drawn to the (perhaps obvious) metaphor of the movement of God in our lives, how he “accompanies” and supports and brings to life our own actions and efforts.
And then something even more remarkable happened. Lee came out after the intermission for the final piece, “Sonata for Violoncello Solo, op. 8” by Hungarian composer Zoltán Kodály. It was not a work with which I was familiar. The essential word in the title, of course, is “solo.” He came out without an accompanist and without music and played for what must have been 30-40 minutes, the music pouring forth from him and his 300-year-old instrument like a flowing, erratic, mesmerizing fountain of original creativity and, at least for me, prayer.
