On November18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the world famous violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Lincoln Centre in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is not easy for him. He got polio as a child, and has to walk with the aid of two crutches now. That night Perlman walked slowly to his chair. Then he sat down and began to play. But, suddenly, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it break---it broke with a loud noise. People thought to themselves, "He would have to get up to either find another violin or find another string for this one." But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, and he played from where he had stopped. He played with such passion and such power. Of course, everyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. But that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him changing and recomposing the piece in his head. When he finished, there was a silence in the room. Then people rose and cheered. We were all on our feet, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done. He smiled and then he said in a quiet tone, "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can make with what you have left." His words have stayed in my mind ever since I heard them. That is also the way of life. Perhaps our task in this quickly changing world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left. If one of the strings suddenly broke, what would an ordinary player do?
He would cancel the concert. He would play another violin. Another performer would play instead. The concert would be put off.