Christians have the best songs to sing. Some may dispute this, but year after year the most beautiful, the most moving, the most joyful songs in our choir’s repertoire are the sacreds. And paradoxically, they are mostly about death.
For the last couple of months my choir has been working on Elaine Hagenberg’s lovely setting of this St. Augustine verse:
All shall be Amen and Alleluia,
All shall be Amen.
We shall rest and we shall see,
We shall see and we shall know,
We shall know and we shall love,
Behold our end which is no end,
Our end which is no end!
Alleluia!
All shall be, Amen.
Amen!
The song begins with 16 bars of florid Alleluias, before moving to Augustine’s rather cryptic first line: “All shall be Amen and Alleluia”. These first words are sung resolutely, but without really being understood. There’s a sudden shift to a minor chord, softening for “We shall rest”. The darkness, however, is only momentary. A crescendo begins through “We shall see and we shall know, We shall know and we shall love”; then the dawn breaks with “Behold our end which is no end”; and more Alleluias burst forth in a brighter, higher key. The song finishes with an even more resolute statement of Augustine’s first line: “All shall be, Amen!” and this time it is understood:
“All” is everything,
“shall” is about the future,
“be” is the state of things,
“Amen” is certainty and agreement, and
“Alleluia” is rejoicing.
This Thursday
This Thursday I go into hospital to have a large tumour removed from my carotid artery. It will be a complex surgery with not insignificant risks. In facing this, I am helped by remembering the skills my surgeons have, their years of training, their careful hands, and the pride they take in doing their jobs well. It has helped to hear my husband’s calm promise to care for me, come what may. It has helped to talk about my diagnosis with my friends and family, to hear their supportive words and to be assured of their prayers. It has helped to give my students weekly updates about ‘Timmy the tumour’ and to have them rejoice with me when it was confirmed that ‘Timmy has no friends’.
These things have been and continue to be a great comfort, but the greatest comfort of all is believing, along with Augustine, that “all shall be Amen and Alleluia”. I don’t mean this in a vague, ‘what will be, will be’ sort of way. What shall be is certain: an eternity of rejoicing. If I do not wake from the anaesthetic on Thursday, my end will be no end at all. I shall see and know and love more deeply and richly than I ever have. All shall be Amen and Alleluia.
Amen.
