Sabbath Devotional: The Cellist of Sarajevo

I’ve played the cello for almost twenty years now. My childhood and high school years were filled with private lessons, school orchestras, community orchestras, and improv playing with my musically talented family and friends. Throughout college and more recent years, my cello has collected dust only to be brought out a few times a year and is now, very sadly, sitting in its case in my closet. Despite my neglect, I have a deep love for the instrument.  

You may have heard of the cellist of Sarajevo. 

In the 1990s, Sarajevo, the capital of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina, was caught in a military blockade during the ethnically charged Bosnian War. Lasting 1,425 days, it was the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare. Over 11,000 people were killed, and more than 50,000 wounded. 

An explosion in front of a bakery in the town square killed 22 people in line for bread. A witness to this attack, Vedran Smailović, the principal cellist with the Sarajevo Philharmonic Orchestra, took his cello to the site the next day and played Albinoni's Adagio in G minor. He returned to the town square for 22 days to play the same song in honor of each of the victims of the massacre. He did this even as war continued to rage around him, risking his life to bring humanity to the city.

Hearing this history for the first time left me awestruck. I remember looking up the song, closing my eyes, and listening to it over and over, unable to hold back tears. The sorrow, even anger, for what is lost is almost tangible in the music. And also longing, even hope, for a better world. 

When a journalist asked Vedran at the time if he thought he was crazy for playing his cello on a battleground, Smailović answered, “You ask me am I crazy for playing the cello, why do you not ask if they are not crazy for shelling Sarajevo?”

I am not in a war-torn country fearing for my life. And yet, this question should cause us all to pause. It seems that our world is all too comfortable calling war, violence, and division common sense; while convincing us we are the crazy ones who believe that there is another way — that peace is possible. 

The prevalent assumption is that violence is necessary to establish peace — that defeating the enemy will finally make it possible for peace to reign. The Nephites thought Ammon and the sons of Mosiah were crazy for living among and serving their enemies. I’m sure the Anti-Nephi-Lehis were seen as crazy for burying their weapons in the face of a war. And we know that Jesus of Nazareth’s refusal to fight his oppressors left many astounded, even angry. 

President Nelson declared, “Now, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, what does the Lord expect of us? As a Church, we must ‘renounce war and proclaim peace.’ As individuals, we should “follow after the things which make for peace” (October 2002). 

I think of my cello sitting in my closet. What would it look like for me to take it out and play for humanity? To call out the insanity of the wars raging around me? 

What is your proverbial cello? We may not be the ones actively engaged in armed conflict or have the power to make the decisions, but we can renounce war and proclaim peace. We can bring a little more humanity to our town square like Vedran Smailović. We can “follow after the things which make for peace.”

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I highly recommend listening to Albinoni's Adagio in G minor. I love this particular rendition where I read this in the comments: “Its beauty is not lost in the fact that if the human race made music rather than war wouldn’t we be a happy race of people.”

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Picture taken during the war in 1992 in Sarajevo in the partially destroyed National Library.

Photo by Mikhail Evstafiev

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Julie Spilsbury is the faithful root director at Mormon Women for Ethical Government.