Good and Bad Miracles

A character on a television show was recently describing Mozart. He was telling that Wolfgang's father thought him to be a miracle, and felt a duty to take him all over Europe and let the miracle be seen. I'm pretty convinced that the father's perceived miracle lay in the profits he earned by exploiting his son's talent. At any rate, the end of the story, of course, is that Mozart became a childish adult. His adulthood started at the age of five or six, and he never matured normally. The world got to witness a miraculous talent, and the miraculously talented performer paid a very high price.

The recent death of Michael Jackson brings a similarly exploitive childhood to mind, as do the biographies of Britney Spears and her sister. I'm not comparing their talents to those of Mozart, rather the fact that their parents took a step beyond normal parental pride. Their talent, which many consider to be supernatural, became a source of both pride and income, and the talented child suffered for it.

Music can have a miraculous effect on children. All musical mentors in schools, churches or private studios can recount cases of prodigious talent that became a source of nurture and discipline in a child's life. They can also tell stories of students with no musical capital to spend, but whose musical experience had a profound effect on their lives.

The miracle of musical effect on a child who doesn't display unusual talent seems to me to be the greatest miracle of all. While I enjoy working with an advanced student, and seeing the minute-by-minute growth that occurs in their ability and understanding, I find most rewarding the situations where a child who has joined the choir with no real contribution to offer finds their life improved and their perspective opened. And I am certain that the parental pride in those families is equally strong, but in no way exploitive.

I know a child with profound hearing difficulty, who chose not to attend children's choir because the noise of the room was so disconcerting when filtered through her hearing aid. Consequently, I never really got to see her fun personality. When she made the attempt to come to Youth Choir, it was because of her efforts to fit completely into the group with all her classmates. I worried that the choir experience might still not work for her. Her mother told me she was committed to trying. It was difficult to ever hear her voice, and when I did it was not surprising that pitch was difficult.

She remained true to her commitment, and as she felt more comfortable, she began to play the piano for me when she arrived early. She played by ear, but had mastered some of the popular songs she enjoyed over headphones. She obviously had a musical talent that was in direct conflict with her hearing disability. One day I was passing by her as we were singing, and I was overjoyed to hear her clearly singing the alto part in tune.

The miracle happening before my eyes could be described as the victory of her musical ability over her hearing disability. I think this is a bigger miracle than seeing a prodigious talent perform with inevitable success. I love to listen to Mozart, but the sound of a young voice singing an alto part is the bigger miracle.