Hallelujah! Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his faithful love endures forever. [Psalm 106:1 (CSB)]
Hallelujah! Give praise, servants of the Lord; praise the name of the Lord. [Psalm 113:1 (CSB)]
“Alleluia” (or “Hallelujah”), like “Amen,” is a word familiar throughout Christendom. Meaning “Praise the Lord,” it is the transliteration of the Hebrew hallel, meaning to shine, be boastful, praise, or rejoice and Yah, an abbreviated form of the name of the Lord: YHWH (Yahweh/Jehovah). Although two distinct words, they were consistently written as one (halleluyah). In the Old Testament, this extraordinary word occurs only in Psalms. Usually found at the beginning, halleluyah was an imperative call to praise or boast in the Lord—a call to shine a light upon Him! Whether we spell this beautiful word the Latin way as “alleluia” or the Greek way as “hallelujah,” the meaning is the same. Many modern translations simply translate it as “Praise the Lord!”
On the Sunday prior to Ash Wednesday, the pastor at our liturgical church selected “All Creatures of our God and King” for the opening hymn at worship. As we sang its many alleluias, I knew we wouldn’t be singing any more of them until Easter. When our pastor was a girl, on the Sunday before Lent, the church’s children would process into the sanctuary carrying a banner with the word “Alleluia” on it. After being folded and placed in a box under the cross, that word and banner wouldn’t reappear until Easter morning. Although we don’t physically put away or “bury” any alleluias at our church, she continues the ancient tradition by eliminating them during Lent.
As a way of highlighting the solemnity of Lent, the “putting away” or depositio (meaning burial) of the alleluia goes back to medieval times. Choir boys would process into church with crosses, candles, and holy water while carrying a casket containing an “Alleluia” banner. The coffin was then buried in the garden until it was unearthed during the Easter vigil. In Paris, a straw figure bearing an “Alleluia” of gold letters was carried out and burned in the churchyard. After the Reformation, many Protestants continued the tradition of eliminating alleluias during the somber penitential season of Lent.
One modern writer compared putting away our alleluias during Lent to putting away all our Christmas decorations in January. If we had the tree, nativities, and wreaths out all year long, they’d lose their significance. Commonplace rather than special, they’d be ignored and unappreciated. Because we put them away in January, they’re treasured when we bring them out again in Advent! Without any alleluias during Lent, we appreciate them even more on Easter morning as we praise the Lord with every “Alleluia” in “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.”
While many hymns include “alleluia” or “hallelujah,” it occurs in only four New Testament verses, all in Revelation 19, when a heavenly chorus sings “Hallelujah!” at the marriage supper of the Lamb. While Lent is a time to focus on recognizing our sin and need for salvation, fasting from alleluias for seven weeks reminds us that our story is not yet complete. The day will come when Christ returns and God’s victory is completed. When that happens, we will be part of that heavenly chorus and praise the Lord while singing “Hallelujah!”
The greatest adventure in life—knowing God—begins at the Cross of Christ and ends with a “Hallelujah!” [David Jeremiah]
As I pondered my goals for this year’s Lenten practice, I remembered Alica Britt Chole’s suggestion to “consider Lent as less of a project and more of a sojourn.” While we often encounter the word ”sojourn” in Scripture, it’s not a word typically used today. Although the basic meaning of gûr, the Hebrew word translated at sojourn, is to “live, settle, dwell,” gûr usually included the sense of it being a temporary or transient stay. Typically, a sojourner was someone living outside their clan or a noncitizen in a strange place. Because of famine, Israel sojourned in Egypt for 430 years and, because of their disobedience, they sojourned forty years in the desert before entering the Promised Land. It is Jesus’ 40-day sojourn in the wilderness before entering His public ministry that is remembered in Lent.
We tend to think of fasting during Lent as abstaining from certain foods, drinks, or activities. Several years ago, however, I was asked, “What if you fasted regret? What if your friends fasted comparison? What would be the fruit of fasting stinginess?” Those questions proposed an entirely different kind of fast than refraining from sweets or social media. In truth, fasting from things like self-righteousness, discontent, and criticism is probably harder (and more meaningful) than giving up energy drinks or dining out.
Every evening, a man went to the local pub and ordered three beers. When asked why three, he explained that he ordered the two extra beers in honor of his two dear brothers who lived far away. One evening, when the man ordered only two beers, the bartender assumed the worst and extended sympathy for the loss of a brother. Correcting the bartender, the man said his brothers were both fit as fiddles and the beers were for them. “It’s me that’s not drinking tonight,” he explained. “You see, I’ve given up beer for Lent!”
In a cartoon drawn by Paul Noth, an enormous political billboard overlooks a pasture inhabited by a flock of sheep. Looking up at the picture of a grinning wolf in coat and tie saying, “I am going to eat you!” one sheep tells another, “He tells it like it is.” Would that all politicians were so forthright!
“How was work today?” asked the wife in the Born Loser comic strip (drawn by Chip Sansom). Her husband answered, “Horrendous!” adding, “It feels so good that it’s over, I’m almost glad it happened!” Having had times when my prayer was simply, “Lord, just get me through this!” I understand. Sometimes, life seems so challenging and exhausting that we’re willing to settle for merely getting through it. That, dear friend, is setting the bar far too low. God has better plans for us than just getting by and none of us are born losers.
Devotions of the Heart 