On the London morning, the auction hall opened. Expectations were high, given the announcement of antiques in the offer lots.

Among the items was a dark and dirty violin. The auctioneer showed it and enthusiastically described it as a piece of rare value.

It was an authentic Cremona, made by the famous Antonio Giacomo Stradivari. Soon, the ones present doubted the authenticity of the piece. After all, there was no Stradivarius signature.

Although the explanation that initially he did not sign his creations, the general opinion remained the same.

The price offered was so low that the auctioneer complained that he would never sell that rarity for such a low value.

As the manifestations followed, from one side to the other, a middle-aged man, tall, thin, wearing a velvet coat, entered the room and walked towards the auctioneer.

He took the violin in his hands and, with his handkerchief, wiped the instrument. Attention was focused on him now.

Deftly he readjusted one string tension, brought it to his ear, as if wanting to hear something.

Finally, he placed the violin on his shoulder, in the correct position and the bow struck the strings, while a murmur became an unison: Paganini.

Yes, there was the composer and greatest virtuoso of the 19th century. One of the creators of romantic musical aesthetics.

A soft melody invaded the room and, as the accords reached the ears, emotion took over everyone.

When the music ceased, the dispute was fierce, the bids, bolder, took place.

The instrument had been neglected, until the moment when the master put his hands on it and extracted the charm of its sonority.

Those people were unaware of its value, they had no idea of its authenticity.

Only when the virtuoso extracted the almost divine sounds from it, they could realize how valuable it was.

However, who bought the instrument, that afternoon, was Paganini himself.

*

We can think of ourselves as that violin. Many look at us and take us for granted.

We are simple, unadorned people, without unusual beauty or extraordinary gifts.

We are fathers and mothers of the world, competent professionals, dedicated workers. Nothing grandiose to stand out in us.

But when the Master takes us in His hands and we allow Him to trigger the strings of our moral values, we show the music that resides in us.

He, the Master, knows our intimacy. He knows about our struggle to overcome inferior passions, He knows of the battles to remain honest, noble, in our lives.

When He performs the music of His Good News, some will be able to hear that melody that wells up in our souls.

The Master of masters extracts the best from us, as long as we allow ourselves to be handled by Him.

Let us become the violin of Jesus, the Owner of the harvest. Let us allow Him to use His bow of love on the strings of our feelings, our goodwill.

Then, many will be enchanted and benefit from the melody of love.

Let the Master extract from us the sweetest music to relief the pains of the world. 

 Spiritist Moment Team, based on a narrative taken from
Chapter 4, from the book Quando tudo falha, by Rodolpho Belts,
Publisher Casa Publicadora Brasileira.
August 7.2023