Leonard Cohen, 1934-2016.
One year since the legendary singer, songwriter, poet, author, and ladies man died, Leonard Cohen’s words are still as haunting and poignant and beautiful as ever. His most famous work, ‘Hallelujah,’ from whose lyrics this blog has stolen its title from, is a theological masterpiece. Let me explain…
My songs have come to me. I’ve had to scrape them out of my heart. They come in pieces at a time and in showers and fragments and if I can put them together into a song and I have something at the end of the excavation I’m just grateful for having it.
Poet, author, and singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen is a multitude of identities. He is simultaneously a caddish lothario and doting father, a writer equally comfortable with the erotic and the esoteric and existential, an obedient Jew and a dabbler in Buddhism. His popularity over his decades-long career had been waning until a song from his 1984 album, Various Positions, was covered by increasingly well-known artists, before becoming an anthem of the reality television show age. Since then, the song has exploded in popularity, inspired much debate and discussion over its meaning or meanings, and has raised Cohen’s profile. The song is ‘Hallelujah.’ It is a multifaceted song, lyrically rich yet melodically relatively simple; it incorporates love and desire with biblical and theological imagery and it is these latter elements in particular which have contributed so significantly to the song’s popularity. This essay seeks to explore the identities of Cohen, especially his religious and philosophical leanings, before exploring how he incorporates biblical and theological ideas into his works. It will then examine the reasons for ‘Hallelujah’s’ popularity and impact, before interrogating the song for its various meanings.
The Formation of Leonard Cohen
Born in 1934 in Montreal, Cohen was the only son of Nathan and Marsha Cohen, and his grandparents were some of the founding families of the Jewish community in Montreal, featuring prominent rabbis and members of the Canadian army. Indeed, Cohen’s father, ‘Lieutenant Nathan Cohen, number 3080887, became one of the first Jewish commissioned officers in the Canadian army,’ and his gun from World War I, a .38, was a source of fascination to his young son. Arguably the most transformative event in Cohen’s childhood was the death of his father when he was only nine years old. ‘Emotion is autobiographical,’ Cohen once commented. His father’s death and the aftermath subsequently permeated some of his work. His first novel, The Favourite Game, whose hero, Laurence, bears a striking resemblance to Cohen, features a scene where Laurence and his sister both steal a look at their father in his coffin and discuss why someone had dyed his moustache black. This version of events also appears in Cohen’s short stories “Ceremonies,” “My Sister’s Birthday,” and “Nursie Told Us The News.”
Leonard’s nanny informed Leonard and [his sister] Esther that they would not be going to school that morning because their father had died in the night. They should be quiet, she said, because their mother was still sleeping. The funeral would take place the following day. “Then the day dawned on me,” Leonard wrote. “But it can’t be tomorrow, Nursie, it’s my sister’s birthday.”
The innocence and poignancy of this detail as it appears in the adolescent Cohen’s first forays into writing is especially moving. Due to the frequency of his father’s ill health in the years preceding his death, tension had arisen between his family unit and Cohen’s paternal uncles, and he recounts the strain on their relationship in The Favourite Game and in his poems ‘Rites’ and ‘Priests 1957.’ From an early age, grief and trauma were hallmarks of Cohen’s life, and have since become permeating themes within his work.
In terms of religion, Cohen’s father ‘was a conservative Jew, not fanatical, without ideology and dogma, whose life was made up of domestic habit and affiliations with the community.’ But for Cohen,
the rituals of the Jewish religion, with their sung recitations, were an early influence, and young Leonard had particularly enjoyed reading the Book of Isaiah at the side of his maternal grandfather, Rabbi Klein. The key attraction for Leonard was not [just] spiritual, however, but simply the chance to spend time with his grandfather; the desire to sit at the feet of a holy man transcended the source and nature of the holiness that motivated him.
Above all, Judaism was an identity marker for Cohen, and he was encouraged by his literary heroes and mentors in the Jewish Canadian cluster in Montreal in the mid to late twentieth century, ‘to focus on his Jewish heritage.’ His two most prominent mentors were the writers A.M. Klein and Irving Layton. For the former, Cohen wrote the affecting poem ‘To A Teacher’ reflecting on Klein’s mental breakdown which rendered him mute for the last years of his life. Layton, meanwhile, was a ‘rough and tumble poet rogue, [who] became a substitute father in many ways, a guiding rebel,’ and Cohen learnt as much about writing and Judaism from Layton as he did womanising. What is curious amongst the writers who emerged from Montreal, like Klein, Layton, and Cohen, is the amalgamation of identities they subsumed. They were Canadians but with Eastern European backgrounds, Anglophones in a Francophone area, Jewish but practically so, rather than religiously. His ‘Canadianness’ and his Jewishness inform each other, and Cohen remarked that biblical images in his work ‘come naturally to me because I was brought up in Montreal where there are a lot of symbols of the different religions. I guess my reading of the Bible has contributed, but there has always been that kind of imagery in my world.’Out of all the identity markers, it is Jewishness which persisted in his canons of work and for Cohen, a prolific writer, religion and religiosity has proved to be an enduring influence.
Biblical Reception History in Leonard Cohen
‘”How important do you think your being Jewish is in what you do?”’ asked filmmaker Harry Rasky of Cohen as he filmed a documentary on him. Cohen replied,
”Well, to have had the privilege of knowing an old tradition it has been, I think, decisive in my own life…the Bible is, I guess, the most important book in my life…it was the English Bible, that language, that touched me, those concerns for the way the voice is raised for instance in the songs of lamentations, the sense of grandeur in the prophets, the sense of chaotic revelation in the Book of Revelations. Those kinds of modes of speech, where the heart is beating fast, there is no other book that has that scope. It really touched me, the Jewish liturgy, the sound of the Jewish voice raised in prayer, or adoration or praise, those are the kinds of modes that touched me and informed me.”
There is a fluidity in Cohen’s theological influences; there is a familiarity and fundamentality for him in Jewish traditions and liturgy, but he is similarly influenced by Christian texts, and especially the language and imagery of them. The importance of the Bible in Cohen’s writing cannot be overstated; the images and references from the nuanced to the overt are everywhere, a consistent presence in all his volumes of poetry, as well as in both his novels. In his 1956 collection, Let Us Compare Mythologies, thirteen out of the forty-four poems contain explicit religious or biblical imagery or themes. He deals with anti-Semitism in ‘For Wilf and His House,’ yearns for a messiah in ‘Prayer for Messiah,’ and writes of Moses, Job, and David in ‘Saviours.’ In ‘Song of Patience,’ Cohen reflects on Kateri Tekakwitha, the first First Nations saint who, following a quasi-conversion to Catholicism in 1678, practiced a hybrid of Mohawk spirituality with the penance ritual inspired by Catherine of Siena, from whom Kateri took her baptism name, (Kateri is Mohawk transliteration of Catherine). Kateri, who took mortification to its extremes, was a source of fascination to Cohen who used her story as inspiration for his second novel, Beautiful Losers, and in ‘Song of Patience’ describes falling in love with her, she who ‘in her hand she held Christ’s splinter.’ Reflecting on Kateri and her penance rituals, Cohen stated, that
in our age of convulsion, we must “rediscover the crucifixion. The crucifixion will again be understood as a universal symbol, not just an experiment in sadism or masochism or arrogance. It will have to be rediscovered because that’s where [humanity] is at.”
‘The transcendent and the earthly intermingling was Cohen’s oldest trick;’ in ‘Story of Isaac,’ the Genesis narrative is transformed into a protest against politics and war, and in ‘Suzanne’ the poem’s eponymous hero and her habits are juxtaposed with Christ and his passion. Cohen balances a nihilistic view of the world with a lens of redemption and hope, inspired by the Judaeo-Christian traditions, stating,
in my own work, I don’t think I’ve ever suggested that the world isn’t good, that a Messianic age should be brought about, or that we should all live in peace and harmony. What I’m trying to stress is the inner strength that will enable you to meet the inevitable and impossible moral choices that are going to confront you.
Perhaps the zenith of Cohen’s philosophical outlook can be seen in his poem ‘The Anthem’ where he writes, ‘Ring the bells that still can ring./ Forget your perfect offering./ There is a crack in everything./ That’s how the light gets in.’ His perspective is simultaneously nihilistic – everything is broken, and hopeful – but light can still get in. This sense of engaging with or rather confronting the existential is arguably what has made Cohen as successful as he is; his fearlessness in addressing the big questions, laying his soul bare to life’s most painful traumas and anguishes, is something which resonates with people. When these ideas which speak to people are conveyed through popular music, an accessible medium, the impact has the potential to be far-reaching, and of all of Cohen’s pieces of work, there is one song in particular which has achieved this far-reaching impact: ‘Hallelujah.’
I know that there is an eye that watches all of us. There is a judgment that weighs everything we do. And before this great force, which is greater than any government, I stand in awe and I kneel in respect. And it is to this great judgment that I dedicate this next song.
So began Cohen at a concert in Warsaw in 1985 before introducing ‘Hallelujah.’ Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah,’ the version from his studio album and performed at his shows, is an authentic articulation of his personal hallelujahs. His ‘Hallelujah’ articulates his tumultuous love life, his struggles with depression, the grief and trauma from his childhood, and his interesting and at times tempestuous relationships with religion and with God. The result is a modern-day psalm which would not feel out of place in a synagogue or a church and feels intimately Cohen’s yet can also be for the tongues and hearts of other people.
‘I’ve heard there was a secret chord/ that David played to please the Lord,/ but you don’t really care for music, do you?’ The speaker of Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ is initially ambiguous in the first stanza; the rhetorical and informal question of ‘do you’ suggests the speaker is reflecting on themselves, perhaps looking back over their past or maybe examining themselves as they are right now. The David of the song is King David, the every-Jew, the Hebrew Bible character who was both blessed by the Lord and triumphed, while also compulsively sinning, including adultery and murder. Using David as a muse is significant because of the importance of David in both Jewish and Christian tradition. David is a character who believers can readily identify with, in both his sinning and in his being blessed and then triumphing, and he is not bound to one tradition, but is a central figure in both Judaism and Christianity, especially in the latter where his lineage leads to Jesus.
The verse continues, ‘It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth/ the minor fall,/ the major lift;/ the baffled king composing Hallelujah!’ The reference to David as musician is an intriguing one as it ‘was his musicianship that first earned David a spot in the royal court, the first step toward his rise to power and uniting the Jewish people.’ This honing in on David the musician sets up ‘Hallelujah’ in the Psalmist tradition and, as a musician himself, suggests that Cohen strongly identifies with David not just because of the Jewish tradition he is embedded in, but because of the uniting force of music. In dissecting the structure of the song, ‘the minor fall’ and ‘the major lift,’ Cohen lets the listener into the secrets of song creation and an insight into the relationship between Cohen and David. What is especially striking is that Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ has its melody, unlike David’s Psalms where the musical scores have been lost and forgotten over time. Thus, ‘Hallelujah’ is in many ways a complete Psalm, unlike the ones in the Jewish and Christian canons, as sung today it can be brought to life for people in a way that just reading David’s and others Psalms in the scriptures cannot. The image of David is also important in his function as the every-Jew, the man who oscillated constantly between righteousness and sin, but who always maintained God’s favour and who, of all the characters in the Hebrew Bible, holds arguably the biggest influence for Jews. The first verse ends with Cohen describing David as the ‘baffled’ king, the thoroughly human David venerated for his power and royalty, while struggling with sin. ‘Baffled’ is an apt way to describe Cohen’s approach and life over the years, an amalgamation of experiences both sacred and profane, the musician celebrated for his compositions and yet falling into the traps of hedonism.
In the second verse, King David reappears when ‘[he] saw her bathing on the roof;/ her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you,’ referencing ‘the moral low point in David’s life when he steps onto the roof of his palace and spots a beautiful woman, Bathsheba, bathing across the way.’ This mention of David is then juxtaposed in the latter part of the verse where Cohen alludes to the Hebrew Bible story of Samson and Delilah: ‘She tied you to a kitchen chair/ she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!’ In many ways this juxtaposition of two icons of the Jewish and Christian tradition is jarring and clumsy and it has the effect of making the meaning of the song somewhat incoherent or perplexing to those not familiar with the details of their narratives in the Hebrew Bible. Both David and Samson experience triumphs and dramatic falls from grace, both experience struggles with their sexuality which leads to David committing murder out of jealousy and Samson losing his strength and then his life. But the enduring legacy of both David and Samson, their reception in popular culture and history, is of figures who stumbled, fell, but ultimately triumphed. In the context of the ‘Hallelujah’ contemporary psalm, the use of David and Samson as lyrical muses contributes to the song’s popularity because David and Samson are figures people readily identify with, but are also characters who inspire hope, hope that redemption or a return of what has been lost is possible. Even in the case of Samson who ultimately lost his life, ‘he kills more people in his death than he did during his lifetime,’ so his final ‘hallelujah’ is ultimately one of triumph.
The third verse is where Cohen’s successors divert from his original. It begins, ‘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?’ In Judaism, the name of God is sacred, to the extent that it is never written down in case someone unaware of its importance should inadvertently say it, because ‘the name has an inherent power, a holiness that comes from the very presence of God as creator and judge.’ There is something intrinsically Jewish in Cohen’s lyrics here, the name of God and its significance is something of peculiar importance to the Jewish tradition and experience, and has been a source of tension between Christians who use the name of God quite readily, as opposed to Jews who revere it. Cohen’s ‘what’s it to you’ here is somewhat defensive; the name of God is a hallmark of the Jewish tradition, and the reception of Judaism and Jewish people throughout world history has generally been one of unwarranted antagonism. Thus, Cohen is defending the Jewish tradition and even more than that, defending his own tradition which matters deeply to him. The verse continues ‘There’s a blaze of light in every word;/ it doesn’t matter which you heard,/ the holy, or the broken Hallelujah!’ The ‘blaze of light in every word’ is ‘the fulcrum of the song as Cohen first wrote it.’ The blaze of light is God’s communicating with his people on earth, be it to prophets like Moses dramatically through a burning bush, through the Hebrew Bible for meditation on in both Jewish and Christian tradition, or through the intimacy of God and man in relationship. This relationality between God and believer is what allows for there to be a holy or a broken hallelujah. Cohen’s understanding of hallelujah is that it diverts the person away from nihilism because the hallelujah is for people in whatever their circumstances or experiences at that time. The juxtaposition of holy and broken shows Cohen directly inspired by the scriptures; he states
from what I gather in reading ancient texts, right up to the present, human beings have always been confronted by the same kinds of problems. I think that this world is not a realm that admits to a solution… We have to deal with good and evil continually. With joy and despair, with all the antinomies, all the opposites and contraries. That’s what our life is about.
In ‘Hallelujah,’ Cohen captures a way of expressing an outlook on the world which encompasses and embraces the pain and mess of life, as well as the moments of triumph, taking the experiences of David and Samson and demonstrating how the stories in the scriptures are not unique experiences for human beings. As Cohen says,
now that is the biblical landscape? It is the victory of experience. That’s what the Bible celebrates. The victory of experience. So the experience of these things is absolutely necessary, as well as a teaching that enables the student to manifest, to experience these episodes that are burning through the Bible, that are now relegated to the realm of miracles or superstition, or something that can’t happen to you.
Cohen’s final stanza is the most powerful and poignant. In rawness he writes, ‘I did my best; it wasn’t much.’ At first glance, it seems Cohen has gone back on his previous idea about the holy and the broken hallelujah, and is instead honing in on his brokenness, a current of despair emerging. Then the lyrics are ‘And even though it all went wrong,/ I’ll stand before the Lord of Song/ with nothing on my lips but Hallelujah!’ As the climax of the song, its power is in its honesty and vulnerability, the authenticity of Cohen’s response to the experiences of his life and the power of God in relation to it all. Cohen embraces brokenness, but because of hallelujah, he does not wallow in it;
finally, there’s no conflict between things, finally, everything is reconciled but not where we live. This world is full of conflicts and full of things that cannot be reconciled but there are moments when we can transcend the dualistic system and reconcile and embrace the whole mess and that’s what I mean by ‘Hallelujah.’ That regardless of what the impossibility of the situation is, there is a moment when you open your mouth and you throw open your arms and you embrace the thing and you just say ‘Hallelujah! Blessed is the name.’ And you can’t reconcile it in any other way except in that position of total surrender, total affirmation.
Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ is both painful and uplifting, the hope that emanates through the hallelujahs is inspiring, while the pain of experiences is affecting. But ultimately, being able to stand before God is empowering, and it is this chord of rejoicing despite pain which resonates so particularly and why the song has been received so well. Yes there is an element of redemption, but this redemption is not divorced from the mess of human life.
‘Hallelujah’ is not just powerful because of the way it interweaves contemporary experiences with biblical narratives and theological concepts. Its inherent power and therefore popularity comes from the word which appears a minimum of twenty times in Cohen’s song: hallelujah. ‘’Hallelujah’ is the kind of song that seems as if it has always been written, of course, that is partly because its main theme, the chorus ‘hallelujah’ has indeed always been written.’ An ancient Hebrew word meaning praise the LORD, (YHWH), its strength is in its familiarity. It has connotations of the sacred but has been absorbed into general vernacular so that it does not sound out of place in the context of the more profane. The hallelujahs of Cohen’s songs have a fluidity of meaning, they embody nuance and connotation and allow people to express through the word ‘hallelujah’ whatever emotion they need to at that particular point; ‘its unknowable essence leaves [it] wide open for interpretation, but crucially… the core of the song, its tense conviction, remains intact.’ Although the biblical significance is perhaps distorted in the song’s subsequent reception, it attests to the power of the Bible, and therefore of God as inspiration, as the base for human responses to the world. Quite simply, ‘there is no getting around the power of that chorus: one word, charged with centuries of meaning, delivered ironically or solemnly or both. It serves as a prayer, perhaps the great prayer of the modern age, regardless of one’s relationship to God.’ But it is still a prayer, it is still biblical language, it is still the stem of God’s name which people are calling out when they sing ‘Hallelujah.’ Cohen reflects on the power of the name, and the name appears in the word that people have latched on to and respond to overwhelmingly.
The Impact of ‘Hallelujah’
‘Hallelujah’ nearly never became a global phenomenon; Cohen’s American record label did not want to include the song on his 1984 album Various Positions, it is one song from ‘one of his least successful albums, recorded during what was probably the lowest point in his career, [which has] wriggled out from obscurity and transcended the rest of his work.’ There have been a multitude of covers of ‘Hallelujah,’ the most famous versions including those by Jeff Buckley in 1994, k d lang in 2004, and Rufus Wainright in 2001; several television networks in the United States used the song as a background to coverage following the September 11 attacks and, more recently, it was performed in the Hope for Haiti television appeal and played during a tribute honouring the victims of the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombings at Fenway Park before the Red Sox played their first home game following the tragedy. It has appeared on the soundtracks for films and television shows including The West Wing, House, and Shrek, prompting Cohen to ask for a moratorium on using the song. There is something peculiar to ‘Hallelujah’ which suggests why it has been received the way it has.
First, ‘Hallelujah’ is, in a sense, everyone’s song. Depending upon the interview, Cohen has admitted to writing in the region of eighty verses for ‘Hallelujah,’ and the version that appears on his album and which he performs live, differs from the versions popularised by Buckley, lang, Wainright, and others who cover the song. The song
contains a multiplicity of positions. It is a song about the reasons for song writing, (to attract women; to please God) and about the mechanics of song writing, (‘it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth…’), about the power of the word and of the Word, about wanting sex, about having sex and about the war of the sexes. It is also a song about total surrender and total affirmation.
Furthermore, ‘because Cohen’s original version remained obscure, there was no fixed idea of how it should sound. When you come to record ‘Hallelujah’ you do not have the spectre of a definitive take.’ Because there is freedom to have a favourite version, this allows ‘Hallelujah’ to be a song for different contexts; if you are feeling morose you can turn to Wainright, if you need the uplifting injection of a gospel take, there is X Factor winner Alexandra Burke’s version. Second, part of the reason why the song is free to be interpreted and covered so readily is because of the subject matter. The traditional cover version of ‘Hallelujah’ combines biblical imagery, generally familiar in a Western context, with universal questions about love and life. Jeff Buckley, whose version of ‘Hallelujah’ is arguably more famous than Cohen’s, said of the song, ‘whoever listens closely to ‘Hallelujah’ will discover that it is a song about sex, about love, about life on earth. The hallelujah is not an homage to a worshipped person, idol, or god, but the hallelujah of the orgasm. It is an ode to life and love.’ The “layman’s” ‘Hallelujah’ begins the same as Cohen’s: the secret chord, the bathing on the roof, and the cut hair. Then it turns decidedly more classic love song with erotic undertones. There is the despair that can only be articulated out of desire, such as ‘I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,/ but love is not a victory march,/ it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!’ The next verse features an even more explicit sexual allusion, ‘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?/ I remember when I moved in you,/ and the holy dove was moving too,/ and every breath we drew was Hallelujah!’ There is something jarring about using the image of the holy dove, which is so embedded in ideas of the Holy Spirit and transcendental power, with the acts of intercourse and orgasm; but it also works. It combines the base human quest for intimacy and ecstasy with the existential. The power of the language comes from the vaguely theological imagery while the subject matter is knowable and liveable; yes it is a manipulation of biblical concepts, but it has been used in a context of relevance, biblical reception history for those seeking their sexual desire to be quenched; familiar language for familiar feelings.
The cover version of the song climaxes the lines of the final verse: ‘Now maybe there’s a God above/ but all I ever learned from love/ is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you./ And it’s no complaint you hear tonight,/ and it’s not some pilgrim who’s seen the light – / it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah!’ The familiar-sounding biblical language is still there and, coupled with the non-committal ‘maybe’ in relation to God’s existence, it articulates a common emotion, a common thought. But as well as being non-committal, the ‘maybe’ can also mean ‘so what?’ Does it matter if there is a God above when in the present there is human love, sex, and emotion? There is a sense that the biblical imagery and language should jar with the sexually-charged subject matter but, once again, the religious language lends itself to communicating the raw emotion associated with lust and love. As a love and lust song, ‘Hallelujah’s’ biblical and religious undertones serve to elevate the subject matter and put a unique spin on the classic love song. The use of religious imagery gives a sense of communicating with something ‘other,’ which makes the song stand out in a quagmire of clichés that popular music charts often can be.
‘Religious ambiguous songs have an added advantage – belief in belief…and so if you can write good religious lyrics – lyrics that are both well-written and yet sufficiently ambiguous – those lyrics will benefit from this belief in belief.’ In many ways, ‘Hallelujah’ resonates so strongly with people because of its title and its anthemic, prayer-like refrain: Hallelujah. It is explicitly religious, biblical, theological language; even if you cannot explain what it means in Hebrew or how it is used in scriptures and liturgy, you can at least give a rough sense of its meaning. Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan of Jerusalem’s Nava Tehilia Synagogue, who used the song for her daughter’s bat mitzvah as well as when conducting other religious services, states that ‘Hallelujah…is not a hymn of the believer – it’s a hymn of the one who is full of doubt, a hymn of the heretic.’ When ‘Hallelujah’ is juxtaposed with ‘maybe there’s a God above’ it enables the song to have fluidity in religious leanings; it can be a song for the doubter and the believer. The Jewish-Christian language, in a Western context, is compatible with an infinite number of interpretations and can appeal to a broad spectrum of religious and non-religious beliefs. When Alexandra Burke released the song as her X Factor winner’s single in competition for the sought-after Christmas Number One, its familiarity of religiosity made it a triumphant single for the winner of the most-watched television reality show and a fitting song for the charts during a festive period when Christian religiosity peaks in its exposure and in people’s religious practices; in many ways, ‘Hallelujah’ was guilt-free consumerism in the Christmas period because it could be received as being a religious song.
The cover version of ‘Hallelujah,’ the love song that works as a gospel song, is biblical reception history for the age of fading religious literacy. It combines religious language, which sounds right, with scenarios and emotions which are common to human experience. The sense of doubt about God’s existence with the biblical references which feel familiar are what have enabled the song to transcend artists and genres and to feel acceptable against numerous backdrops. ‘Hallelujah’ works against images of terrorism and a global outpouring of grief such as 9/11, just as it works as the climax of reality television shows, secondary plots in animated children’s films like Shrek, and as erotically-charged songs on the albums of alternative artists like Buckley and lang. The word ‘hallelujah’ is accessible in its familiarity, its religious connotations make it feel like you are singing something profound, it allows you to be formally religious without the commitment of being an actual believer, you can be a doubter and a lover, a believer and a fighter. Religious language should, theoretically, alienate people for whom the religious language is not theirs, but the opposite has happened with ‘Hallelujah’ which suggests there is something peculiar to Cohen’s song that has subverted expectations. ‘Hallelujah’ has become ‘the closest thing pop music has to a sacred text,’ but more than that, it has become the popular music version of sacred music, of liturgical chant. ‘Hallelujah’ is a prime example of biblical reception history for the modern age because, at face value, it communicates something more than it lyrically means when you dissect the popularised version. The song as a whole, the tune and the biblical references combined, are what make the song powerful and enduring and applicable for a multitude of contexts and people. The power of the popularised ‘Hallelujah’ lies in its approachability and adaptability. The repeated ‘hallelujah’ is not alienating but embracing and because the song as a whole feels like communicating something ‘other,’ every breath you draw really is hallelujah – whatever it may mean for you.
‘I don’t go looking for joy. I don’t go around looking for melancholy either.’ ‘Hallelujah’ has connected the sacred with the profane, drawing on how this intersects in biblical narratives, how this translates theologically, and how this can be expressed in contemporary situations and experiences. The song is an interweaving of hope and despair, triumph and failure, joy and melancholy, with a constant repetition of the word ‘hallelujah.’ The song is popular because the refrain resonates with people from all backgrounds, in its reception from Cohen through to Simon Cowell and The X Factor, it is the name of God which holds the song together and which has ensured its legacy as a go-to song for all sort of occasions for the entire spectrum of human emotions. That there is something in the word ‘hallelujah’ which appeals to people, which lends itself to expressions of gospel-style triumph through to the very depths of despair as articulated in some of the poetry of the Hebrew Bible is important, but so is that even in the secular it still articulates something deeper, something profound, some sense of expressing something other or beyond, or deeper, beyond oneself. In its later incarnations, ‘Hallelujah’ is biblical reception history tweaked, while in Cohen’s original version it feels like it has a more authentic reception of Jewish narratives and theology. But the use or misuse of the Bible somehow feels irrelevant when the song’s entire reception success is on the word which incorporates the name of God. Something of the tradition remains and resonates with people, however they choose to respond to the question of faith. This is ‘Hallelujah’s’ power: it calls upon the name of God. In Cohen recognising that it can all go wrong and that there is still the chance to get up again and stand, he has written a song which defers the strength needed to get through the worst of circumstances through calling on the name of God. Today, this may translate as calling on something greater than oneself, but it is still calling on something or one greater, and when they choose ‘Hallelujah’ to articulate that call, it is God they call on.
 Cohen quoted in Walker, B., ‘Complexities and Mr Cohen,’ Sounds, March 4 1972, http://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/sounds2.html accessed 07/04/15.  Simmons, S., I’m Your Man: The Life of Leonard Cohen, (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 2012), p.8.  Cohen quoted in Footman, T., Leonard Cohen Hallelujah: A New Biography, (Surrey: Chrome Dreams, 2009), p.43.  Cohen, L., The Favourite Game, (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970), p.25.  Simmons, (2012), p.13.  Ibid., p.8.  Footman, (2009), p.17  Ibid., p.22.  Rasky, H., The Song of Leonard Cohen: A Portrait of a Poet, a Friendship and a Film, (London: Souvenir Press, 2001), p.16.  Cohen quoted in Turner, S., ‘Leonard Cohen: The Profits of Doom,’ in Burger, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen on Leonard Cohen, (London: Omnibus Press, 2014), p.207.  Rasky, (2001), p.74.  Ibid., p.74.  Cohen, L., Let Us Compare Mythologies, (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1956), p.15.  Cohen quoted in Scharen, C., Broken Hallelujahs: Why Popular Music Matters to those Seeking God, (Grand Rapids: Baker Publishing Group, 2011), p.44.  Leibovitz, L., A Broken Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen’s Secret Chord, (Dingwall: Sandstone Press Ltd, 2014), p.150.  Cohen quoted in O’Brian, R., ‘Songs and Thoughts of Leonard Cohen,’ in Burger, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen on Leonard Cohen, (London: Omnibus Press, 2014), p.184.  Cohen, L., Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs, (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1993), p.373.  Cohen quoted in Burger, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen on Leonard Cohen, (London: Omnibus Press, 2014), p.171.  See Appendix 1. All further quotations from this song are from this version.  Light, (2012), p.19.  Telushkin, J., Jewish Literacy, (New York: William Morrow and Company Inc., 2001), p.67.  Ibid., p.60.  Scharen, C., Broken Hallelujahs: Why Popular Music Matters to Those Seeking God, (Grand Rapids: Baker Publishing Group, 2011), p.40.  Light, (2012), p.24.  Cohen quoted in O’Brian, (2014), p.184.  Cohen quoted in Kurzweil, A., ‘I am the little Jew who wrote the Bible’ in Burger, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen on Leonard Cohen, (London: Omnibus Press, 2014), p.387.  Cohen quoted in Footman, (2009), p.209.  Scharen, (2011), p.45.  Light, (2012), p.222.  Ibid., p.228.  Footman, (2009), p.198.  Kreps, D., ‘Leonard Cohen Asks for Brief Halt to New Covers of “Hallelujah,”’ Rolling Stone, 2009. http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/leonard-cohen-asks-for-brief-halt-to-new-covers-of-hallelujah-20090710 accessed 07/03/15.  Simmons, (2012), p.338.  Footman, (2009), p.200.  Buckley quoted in Light, A., The Holy or the Broken: Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley and the Unlikely Ascent of “Hallelujah,” (New York: Atria Books, 2012), p.1.  Stone, P., ‘The Happy Memes of “Hallelujah”’ in Holt, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen and Philosophy, (New York: Open Court Publishing, 2014), p.250.  Ibid., p.250.  Simmons, (2012), p.347.  Cohen quoted in Turner, S., ‘Depressing? Who? Me?’ in Burger, J., (ed.), Leonard Cohen on Leonard Cohen, (London: Omnibus Press, 2014), p56.