“Hallelujah” is a song written by Leonard Cohen. It was first recorded on his 1984 album Various Positions. It has been covered numerous times and featured in the soundtracks of several movies and television shows. You may remember it from the movie Shrek.

My friend, Greg, made me aware of this song a few years ago. The first version I heard was Jeff Buckley’s cover, and I think that remains my favorite (based on the vocal performance). It has a haunting quality to it; its beauty envelops you with a peaceful sadness. Dara dug up Cohen’s original rendition, and we recently listened to both Cohen’s and Buckley’s versions of the song during our long drive to Arizona over Thanksgiving. We had a great conversation as we tried to interpret the song’s meaning. In a future post, I hope to get Dara to write up some of her thoughts. For now, I want to introduce this blog’s meager audience to this song and invite you to post the thoughts it stirs in the comments.

Before you read what I have to say about it, take a moment to read the lyrics and listen to (watch) one of its renditions. Check out my playlist on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=990A1C0E2225BE79

Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don’t even know the name
But if I did, well really, what’s it to you?
There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Baby I’ve been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not some victory march
It’s a cold and broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time when you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
But I remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Now maybe there’s a God above
But all I ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a complaint that you hear tonight
It’s not someone who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and lonely Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Many interpret this as a bitter love song. “But all I ever learned from love is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.” It is a sad reality that when love (romantic or platonic) is betrayed, we often learn to protect ourselves by closing our hearts and striking first. Anyone who has risked intimacy can relate to the confession of that lyric. After he state’s this bitter love lesson, the singer states that “it’s not a complaint that you hear tonight.” Thus, it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. The song’s final tone seems to build towards a hopeful ending. It is interesting (perhaps telling) that Buckley drops the last (and most hopeful and reverent) verse in his cover.

Those that are familiar with the Bible cannot help but notice the lyrical references to King David and Sampson. As David’s sin and redemption are interwoven with the familiar experiences of love, loss, and one’s hardened (but hopeful) response to pain, the listener enters with the singer into the glorious ache of the human journey.

This song’s raw look at humanity is bracketed throughout with the word Hallelujah. A word of praise to God that King David used many times in the Psalms. It is the Hebrew word for requesting a congregation to join in praise. Hallel means praise in Hebrew, and the first part, “hallelu”, is the second person imperative masculine plural form of the verb hallal. Yah is a shortened form of the name of God, Yahweh. The best translation of hallelujah is “Praise Yah, you people”, which is translated in English versions as “Praise ye the LORD” or “Praise the LORD.”

Given the meaning and power of this song’s title and constant refrain, one might infer that Cohen meant for this song to be more than a love song with the typical “it is better to have loved and lost rather than to not love at all” theme. It is written like a hymn, and in Cohen’s original, a choir backs him up. Is there a layer of spiritual meaning in this song? — what do Cohen’s lyrics have to say about a relationship with God?

Cohen writes as an agnostic, but he allows for the possibility that there is a God above. At one point, the singer describes himself as “not someone who’s seen the light.” Redemption has not settled on the singer. He ends with… “And even though it all went wrong, I’ll stand before the Lord of Song, With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.” To me, this indicates some hope that the divine might accept him in the end. But on what basis? Earlier, he speaks of “holy”, “cold”, and “broken” Hallelujahs. The singer acknowledges his brokenness, perhaps even a need for something greater than himself. But who is the Lord of Song? This is extremely speculative territory, but here it goes… Cohen is Jewish. Somewhere along the way, he had some sort of Christian conversion; its reality, depth, or long-standing impact is unknown. I imagine that his concept of God in this song is intentionally vague. He is an artist. Most artists are comfortable with the idea that there is someone/something mystical surrounding our experience. In fact, isn’t that the muse? Artists longs to discover the mystical essence of life; they attempt to make the hidden known even if that knowledge is intangible, fleeting, subtle, and layered with mystery. Cohen is a musician. His muse is musical in nature, so it follows that his God is the Lord of Song. Music is how he accesses the spiritual and it channels his understanding of God. He may be broken and life may go terribly wrong, but along the way, he will find redemption in pleasing the Lord of Song through creating beautiful and honest music. That’s my interpretation.

Personally, I like the idea of a broken and holy Hallelujah. For me, this is where I find the song’s most powerful allure, the thing that makes it “a beautiful piece of heartache” (to quote an Over the Rhine lyric). How often do I cower in my sin and find myself futilely hiding from God? Eventually, I hear the Holy Spirit whispering to my soul, reminding me that there is no condemnation for those that claim Jesus as Christ. It is in these moments when I am soaked with the awareness of my depravity and emboldened by the joy of my identity as God’s redeemed child that I croak a “broken (and holy)” Hallelujah. I don’t mean to say that this represents the meaning of the song; I am only conveying the meaning that it shapes in me as I assimilate the spiritual and emotional power of this piece of art into my own experience.

Your thoughts and reactions? What do you think this song meant to Cohen… to Buckley… to Wainwright? What does it stir in you?

Sources/Links:

• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hallelujah_%28song%29
• http://www.hidebound2.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=8
• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hallelujah