On Nov.18,1995,Itzhak Perlman,the violinist,came on stage to give a concert.If you have ever been to a Perlman concert,you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him.He was stricken with polio  as a child,and so he walks with the aid of two crutches. The audience sat quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair and begins his play.But this time,something went wrong.Just as he finished the first few bars,one of the strings on his violin broke.We thought that he would have to stop the concert.But he didn't.Instead,he waited a moment,closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. Of course,anyone knows that it is impossible to play a pleasant work with just three strings.I know that,and you know that,but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. When he finished,there was a breathtaking silence in the room.And then people rose and cheered.There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. He smiled,wiped the sweat from this brow and then he said-not proudly,but in a quiet,holy attitude-"You know,sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left." This powerful line has stayed in my mind ever since I heard it.And who knows?Perhaps that is the meaning of life-not just for artists but for all of us. So,perhaps our task in this fastchanging,puzzling 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. Why did the audience give heated claps to Itzhak Perlman?
Because they were moved by his disease. Because they were moved by his spirit. Because they were laughing at his action. Because they were encouraging him to cheer up.