Psalm 147

“Hallelujah!”

Psalm 147 is the last in the series of what scholars call the “Final Hallel” psalms. The Final Hallel psalms—Psalms 146–150—are contrasted with an earlier set of psalms called the “Egyptian Hallel” (Psalms 113–118), which are used in the Passover liturgy.

In the Hallel psalms the word “hallelujah” appears at the beginning, at the end, or in both places.

“Hallelujah” is a direct transliteration of the Hebrew phrase הַלְלוּ־יָהּ (halelu-yah). The word is composed of two parts. Halelu means “praise!” This is a plural imperative, meaning “You all praise.” The second part, yah, is a shortened form of the divine name YHWH (the LORD). So, the most straightforward translation of “Hallelujah” is “Praise Yah” or more fully, “Praise the LORD.” “Hallelujah” isn’t an exclamation of awe but is, rather, a command and an imperative. “Hallelujah” is calling the congregation to praise.

Interestingly, “Hallelujah” is only found in the Psalms. We find it nowhere else in the Old Testament. In the New Testament, “Hallelujah” is only found in Revelation in its Greek transliteration of allelouia (ἀλληλούϊα).

As The Shape of Joy describes, being “turned outward” toward a transcendent reality other and bigger than your own is positively associated with mental health. Let me underline those two words, “other” and “bigger.”

By a reality “other” than our own I mean that in experiences of wonder, awe, and cosmic gratitude we aren’t still covertly talking to ourselves. Specifically, is transcendence real or just a mental fiction we project onto a blank, inert reality? I deal with this question in the chapter entitled “Sunlight or Shadows.” When I describe transcendence as a reality other than your own I mean that transcendence is real and not a mental mind hack or a psychological trick we play on ourselves.

With a reality “bigger” than our own I mean that we find ourselves connected to and a part of a greater whole. In the research on awe this is called the experience of “the small self.” Not small as in insignificant, but finding your place within a greater whole. The small self is a connected, relational self, a self in attunement with reality.

All this connects with hallelujah because it can be hard for the buffered, introverted, self-referential, neurotic, and disenchanted self to make contact with this other, bigger reality. So we notice, again, that hallelujah isn’t an experience or exclamation. Hallelujah is an ask. Hallelujah is a directive, a command and an imperative.

Which means that hallelujah can be a practice. As I describe in the The Shape of Joy, we can practice gratitude and we can bring ourselves into contact with what the psychologist Dacher Keltner calls “everyday wonder.” In the end, hallelujah is a practice of what David Kelsey has called “doxological gratitude.”

Hallelujah is a practice of stepping into life as an experience of gift.