The title of today’s offertory is Geistliches Lied or “Sacred Song.” The piece is in the form of a double canon. The sopranos and tenors sing the same tune, but two measures apart and likewise with the basses and altos. It was written as part of a musical exchange between Brahms and his friend Joseph Joachim, a composer and violinist.

Brahms wrote to Joachim saying that he wondered if the piece was dull. Brahms wrote that the Amen pleased him most.In response, Joachim wrote, “In the Amen in question, the tenor clashes all too harshly with the alto and soprano.” Brahms didn’t change a thing. How could he? It came from his heart, and he knew it was right. Musically speaking, you cannot make this piece better. In that place Joachim criticizes, the tenors and sopranos clash, but in the right context, they are sweet salve once the tension resolves. As for such dissonances in our own lives, once resolved they seem as if they were meant to be. They are crafted divinely in a dramatic flow of tension and release, like a beautiful symphony that takes you on the full gamut of emotion. This fullness of life includes bedazzling spectra of colors, emotions, and energies, from the highest highs to the lowest lows and everything in between.

I chose this anthem for All Saints because it deals with grief. The least comforting words to the family of the deceased are, “don’t worry, they’re now in a better place.” The implication is that one’s life is a means and an eventuality to God, rather than a union with God, right now. Secondly, when you say, “don’t worry,” people worry about how to stop worrying. In denying them the right to feel what they feel you imply their grief and fear is not ordained by God, is it meant to be, and perhaps even nonessential. Jesus wept, he got impatient with his disciples, and he lost his temper at times; so, it all must be essential. “All things come of thee, O Lord.” Can we live with such a “harsh” truth, that God is in all things?

Vaguely, we think that “one day” we’ll join God in heaven, but not yet. The implication is that God is unreachable now, and that life is a waiting room. It’s a shame we have such a distant view, waiting for God in the crematorium. Jesus said in Matthew, “The kingdom of heaven is within.” And in Luke, “The kingdom of heaven is here with us now.” And in John, “I have come that you may have life in all its fullness.”

The text of the anthem finishes, “what God has decided, that is and must be the best.” Every moment is best. Death isn’t a mistake, nor is grief, dissonance, or being left-handed! A life is not a means but a perfect union of God’s expressivity. Death doesn’t unite us with God. We are not separate, we’re just not paying attention, and a little dissonance awakens us.

Understanding this unbreakable union makes life heavenly. There is no better place nor time than this. Brahms knew it. I’m glad he didn’t change the “harshness” – it’s perfect as is! He obeyed his gut, and followed the kingdom of heaven within, and what beautiful music we enjoy, even now! To enter the pearly gates, so to speak, too many of us are waiting to see the inside of a casket. The glory is now. Snap out of waiting-room mentality, and step into the Truth of God here and now. Then see if the floodgates of heaven don’t begin to pour abundance into your soul, filling your life to the brim. Soli Deo Gloria!