a smaller hallelujah

I have to start this with a confession: I am far too literal a thinker to be a writer. There are themes I don’t get, and phrases that I like, but I can’t tell you why.

What I don’t understand could fill books. Grey’s Anatomy-sized books. And I would read those books, to try to figure out how to see what other people with more imagination see instinctively.

There are a couple of glaring examples I’ve seen recently. The first that immediately springs to mind is the book “The Giver.” I really admired the writing style, enjoyed the story, and the process; thought the idea behind the story was definitely worth time and attention – but I did not get the ending.

It’s not that I didn’t like the ending, or that I didn’t get that it was the first memory passed to the Receiver. I just… didn’t get it. I could see the start, and I read the end, but I have no idea how the two connected.

I wracked my brain for longer than I care to admit to come up with the idea that the ending was supposed to be representational; that the red sled was blood, and how freedom requires choice and weighty, worthy responsibility. Stretching the idea a bit farther, I could even see how, given the subject matter of the story being based in a significant and sad piece of Jewish (and on a grander scale, human) history, the Receiver was a scapegoat, and only through the shedding (or sledding, yes, I pun) of his complete innocence and absolute sacrifice were all the things that make humans textured – sin and glory, hope and hate, broken, cold hallelujahs – freed to be shared, and covered in a lingering grace.

I have no idea if that’s what the author meant with that scene, though… and I am still disappointed with the ending. I can follow the song. I can see the beauty. I just don't understand that hallelujah.

Conversely, one of the first authors to show me a different hallelujah, a different way to worship was Kathy Tyers. She wrote Star Wars novels, and loved Jesus. Why does that matter? Because before her, I didn't know anyone else who loved Science Fiction and Jesus, and there's nothing like a good story full of stars and possibilities to make one feel less alone. I could understand her song, although it was challenging and different. Her hallelujah made mine seem far less broken.

Ms. Tyers wrote a book recently, Wind and Shadow, part of the Firebird series, that presents a haunting, challenging beauty. Taking literal stories I know as well as most women know faery tales, Ms. Tyers reimagines them as characters with warp drive and interplanetary agendas. Wrestling angels, demons, aliens, and seriously fierce fire fights, somehow her characters show a faith and devotion my often lackluster hallelujah longs for...

I know there is a universe full of things and people and ideas I don't understand. I don't always get how to get from the Giver to the sled, and I hate that. I hate that not understanding makes me feel small and powerless. I want to know everything, know it now. I want an app for that.

There should be an app for that. There should be something I can just click and get the information I want, the maturity I need, the power-up for the next level. Following the journey grinds and frustrates.

But those that give, stars, and God remind me that I am a story in the writing, representational, messy and broken. And all of that is a worthy hallelujah.

There's a blaze of light in every word

It doesn't matter which you heard

The holy or the broken Hallelujah