“AMEN SONGS”: Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)

Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” is a song that transcends genre and generation. Though it has been interpreted and reinterpreted countless times, its heart remains the same: a meditation on love, loss, struggle, and the longing to find holiness even in brokenness. The word hallelujah—a sacred expression of praise—repeats like a prayer throughout the song, woven through verses that speak honestly of imperfection and pain. This raw honesty is what makes “Hallelujah”such a powerful reflection of our theme, “Amen – Be a Blessing.” To bless is not only to give thanks for what is whole, but to find meaning in what is fractured. Cohen’s song offers a spiritual lens on human vulnerability, teaching that there is holiness in the flawed, in the uncertain, and in the sincere cry of the soul.

This idea finds deep resonance in Parashat Emor, which details the sacred calendar, priestly laws, and the requirements for offering sacrifices that are whole and unblemished. Yet paradoxically, the Torah’s very insistence on wholeness invites us to consider what we do with the parts of life that are not perfect. Cohen’s “Hallelujah” suggests that there is another kind of offering—one not brought on the altar, but carried in the heart. As we count the days of the Omer in anticipation of revelation, we are reminded that spiritual growth doesn’t come from perfection, but from persistence and honesty. Just as Cohen sings of a “broken hallelujah,” Emor teaches us to strive for sanctity even when we are painfully aware of our limitations.

This Shabbat, we also mark Lag Ba’Omer, a day that celebrates hidden strength, inner fire, and the mystical teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. It is a moment of light within the solemnity of the Omer period—a reminder that joy can burst forth even in the midst of mourning. “Hallelujah,” with all its layers of sorrow and transcendence, mirrors that same truth. Lag Ba’Omer invites us to embrace the light that comes not from denying struggle but from moving through it. In singing our own broken or whole hallelujahs, we affirm that faith is not only found in certainty, but in the very act of singing through the unknown. That is how we become a blessing—not by being flawless, but by lifting our voices anyway.