A beacon of hope in despair

Use your talents to heal and transform; create a legacy of beauty that endures beyond the shadows of despair.

On November 25, 1963, the day of John F. Kennedy's funeral, musical genius Leonard Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic in a moving televised performance of Gustav Mahler’s heartrending “Adagietto” from Symphony No. 5. This wasn’t just a tribute to Kennedy but also a powerful affirmation of life and the enduring spirit of humanity.

Kennedy had been a beacon of hope and progress as well as a staunch advocate for the arts; Bernstein sought a way to honour his friend and respond meaningfully to a senseless act of violence. A feeling I sense many of us in the UK, in fact around the world, feel right now.

The next evening, Bernstein spoke at the 25th annual fundraiser for the United Jewish Appeal of Greater New York, at Madison Square Garden. He passionately conveyed that in response to violence and tragedy, we must commit even more fervently to creating beauty and art. This act of creation, he believed, was a powerful counterforce to destruction and despair.

New York, NY
November 25, 1963

My dear friends:

Last night the New York Philharmonic and I performed Mahler’s Second Symphony — the Resurrection — in tribute to the memory of our beloved late President. There were those who asked: Why the Resurrection Symphony, with its visionary concept of hope and triumph over worldly pain, instead of a Requiem, or the customary Funeral March from the Eroica? Why indeed? We played the Mahler symphony not only in terms of resurrection for the soul of one we love, but also for the resurrection of hope in all of us who mourn him. In spite of our shock, our shame, and our despair at the diminution of man that follows from this death, we must somehow gather strength for the increase of man, strength to go on striving for those goals he cherished. In mourning him, we must be worthy of him.

I know of no musician in this country who did not love John F. Kennedy. American artists have for three years looked to the White House with unaccustomed confidence and warmth. We loved him for the honor in which he held art, in which he held every creative impulse of the human mind, whether it was expressed in words, or notes, or paints, or mathematical symbols. This reverence for the life of the mind was apparent even in his last speech, which he was to have made a few hours after his death. He was to have said: “America’s leadership must be guided by learning and reason.” Learning and reason: precisely the two elements that were necessarily missing from the mind of anyone who could have fired that impossible bullet. Learning and reason: the two basic precepts of all Judaistic tradition, the twin sources from which every Jewish mind from Abraham and Moses to Freud and Einstein has drawn its living power. Learning and Reason: the motto we here tonight must continue to uphold with redoubled tenacity, and must continue, at any price, to make the basis of all our actions.

It is obvious that the grievous nature of our loss is immensely aggravated by the element of violence involved in it. And where does this violence spring from? From ignorance and hatred — the exact antonyms of Learning and Reason. Learning and Reason: those two words of John Kennedy’s were not uttered in time to save his own life; but every man can pick them up where they fell, and make them part of himself, the seed of that rational intelligence without which our world can no longer survive. This must be the mission of every man of goodwill: to insist, unflaggingly, at risk of becoming a repetitive bore, but to insist on the achievement of a world in which the mind will have triumphed over violence.

We musicians, like everyone else, are numb with sorrow at this murder, and with rage at the senselessness of the crime. But this sorrow and rage will not inflame us to seek retribution; rather they will inflame our art. Our music will never again be quite the same. This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before. And with each note we will honor the spirit of John Kennedy, commemorate his courage, and reaffirm his faith in the Triumph of the Mind.

A Message of Hope

Bernstein’s message was simple yet profound: in the face of unimaginable loss, we must not retreat into sorrow but instead channel our grief into creating something beautiful and meaningful. By doing so, we not only find our own solace but also offer a beacon of hope to others.

“This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before” Leonard Berstein

Your Artistic Lasting Legacy

When I read Bernstein’s words, I was reminded that while we can't control the world around us, we can choose how we respond. By dedicating ourselves to our creative passions with even greater intensity and devotion, we can transform our pain into a legacy of beauty that transcends even the darkest moments.

In essence, Bernstein’s response to JFK’s death is a heartfelt call to all artists:
Use your talents to heal and transform; create a legacy of beauty that endures beyond the shadows of despair.

Stay creative. Stay safe.

I write this in response to the horrific attacks in Southport and the ongoing mindless violence on the streets of the UK. This is for all of us who are fearful for our children and feel unheard by the inadequate response from those we rely on for protection. Now, more than ever, we need open dialogue and freedom of speech from all perspectives, regardless of political viewpoint. And, importantly, compassion for the pain on all sides.

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