Years ago, when I was a music major, I didn’t really care much for Bach’s flute works; at the time they seemed mainly to be technical exercizes for flutists with the unique ability of not having to breathe.
There was a long period after college where I didn’t play pretty much at all, until a wooden flute took me by the hand and led me, by a rather twisted path, to Irish traditional music.
And since I’ve also rediscovered my earlier fascination with Baroque music, with one difference. I now love Bach’s works for flute, love listening to them, love playing them even more, especially the Sonatas.
Yes, they are technically challenging, but the rewards for mastering them are great. I take delight in the way that they are put together. It reminds me of the plot twists and subplots of a really good mystery novel. There are twists and turns and sometimes it takes off in what seems to be an unexpected direction, only to tie it all back together in ways that are both unexpected and wonderful.
Bach had a unique and special genius, polished into a rare gem by years of both prolific composition as well as years of excellent playing as a performance musician. His combination of genius and hard work routinely took his music to places other composers only rarely reach; yet his work was not well appreciated during his own lifetime, as it was considered by many to be somewhat sentimental and unaccepting of progress.
Do I think Bach communed with God or that God somehow moved him or spoke through him? I don’t think so, though Bach probably would have hoped so: much of his music was sacred, and he was apparently a man of great faith.
To me, his unique music and his unique abilities speak more of the capabilities of the human mind than of any god. To me, to say that somehow God did it is to insult the mind that created and the hand that wrote the music which, so many years later, still moves me and others so strongly.
–James