Broken Hallelujah
by Vanessa Sadler
“I had no idea they would be so excited about Christmas decorations,” my husband whispered.
I watched as our six year old pranced through the living room draped in red and silver garland, weaving a trail in and around the boxes in the living room floor. A faux cotton snowball whizzed past my head, the boys engaged in a serious battle. I aimlessly arranged a winter scene on the dining table.
Truth be told, I shared my husband’s amazement. On the other hand, who could blame them for their revelry? It’s been nearly an entire year since life as we all knew it changed drastically. Our constant companions have been one another, our view of the furniture and our neighborhood has shifted only slightly, thanks in large part to the reds and oranges of autumn, a certifiable miracle in the southeast.
However, in the last week or two I sensed the change in seasons. Grayer days, colder mornings. Temperatures will soon drive us indoors for the winter months, and I dread the choruses of “I’m bored” that will soon follow. It grates louder, weighs heavier, because we have been cooped up without our rhythmic ways of engaging community.
Yet here were three joy-filled children, finding laughter and play in the midst of a rainy afternoon. I breathed deep.
“...and a little child shall lead them.” (Isaiah 11:6)
Anyone who’s known me for any length of time understands what a nerd I am when it comes to biblical etymology. So it should come as no surprise that when I was asked to write on the topic of Broken Hallelujah one of the first things I did was remind myself of the meaning of the word hallelujah in the Old Testament.
Hallelujah is actually a two-word Hebrew phrase. Hallel meaning “to boast or rave; a joyous praise in song.”
An aside: the very first time hallel appears in scripture is when a group of Egyptian princes are admiring Abram’s wife, Sarai.
“And when the princes of Pharaoh saw her, they praised her to Pharaoh.” (Genesis 12:15)
Interesting that the first time this word is used it is in reference to a woman, but I digress.
The second word, Yah, is a shortened form of YHWH, the Hebrew name for the Creator.
Here’s where it gets interesting... this word for God is known as the Tetragrammaton. In the Jewish faith, YHWH is “the ineffable name” and is forbidden to be uttered except by the High Priest, and only in the Temple. Since the Temple in Jerusalem no longer exists, this name is never spoken in Jewish rituals.
I find it fascinating that the word hallelujah juxtaposes one of the highest forms of praise, next to the One who’s name shall not be mentioned. What a bind.
Enter Jesus. The literal Word made flesh and bone, from a crying infant to crying out on the cross.
This is where I began to play with what hinders my praise (racism, a groaning creation, apathy), to dance with Jesus through words in the midst of fatigue, and to remember where I place my regenerative hope.
Lips part to praise
My voice caught deep
Unable to sing
My God is worthy of every word
And every utterance that rings
But my breath ca — catches as I grasp at a melody
That br — breaks through the noise of Shouts raised
Fires that rage
Eyes ablaze
Yet you’re ... unfazed.
Head down, hands up
Hands up, don’t shoot!
Even heaven prayed for another route
Jesse’s branch, a tender shoot, reaching up —
up to bear us all the fruit.
An Infant’s cry crashing through the night
night from day to dawn’s first Light.
And there was evening and morning the first day. Who am I to say
That a God who bends down low
Who drinks deep,
deep of my sorrow
Never hoped for a better tomorrow?
Light of the world enfleshed
encased, debased
His face marred by you and you and me.
Life spoken into darkness
takes His place in the symphony of re — re-creation.
And I join with
Yah — Yah — Yahweh.
Vanessa Sadler 11/27/20
Broken Hallelujah
