Alleluia
a reflection by Fr. Benet Phillips, O.S.B. '87
It’s a word we haven’t said, sung—or dare I say, even thought of—since March 5th.
But soon—very soon—we’ll say and sing this word again, and we’ll do so with great solemnity. Starting at the Easter Vigil and continuing until February 18, 2026, this word will once again return to our liturgical vocabulary.
That word, of course, is ALLELUIA.
It’s a Hebrew word meaning “Praise the Lord.” Left untranslated, alleluia has journeyed with the Church through the centuries, connecting worshipers “from every tribe and tongue and people and nation.”
As we celebrate the great feast of Easter, alleluia becomes our song. So great is the power and mystery of Christ’s resurrection that we can’t help but rejoice. By rising from the dead, our Lord Jesus Christ has triumphed over sin and death. Life—not death—has the final say.
Yes, our lives are fragile and mortal. But because God, through Jesus, shared in our human frailty, death no longer gets the last word. Life is victorious.
As Saint Paul reminds us: "And when this perishable nature has put on imperishability, and this mortal nature has put on immortality, then the words of Scripture will be fulfilled: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. Death, where is your victory? Death, where is your sting?’”
Saint Augustine once wrote, “A Christian should be an alleluia from head to foot.” In other words, every part of our lives—our thoughts, our words, our actions, our very being—should express joy and praise.
We’re called to be living alleluias: radiating the peace and joy of God, living with gratitude and reverence, witnessing to the power of God’s love—by reaching out to those in need, by caring for creation, by becoming peacemakers.
One of my favorite readings from Midday Prayer poses a powerful question:
“What about when I don’t feel like an ALLELUIA, but rather can ACHE from head to foot?”
It’s real. Sometimes life gets hard. We face disappointments. We feel frustrated, lonely, or just plain hurt—physically, emotionally, spiritually. How can we sing alleluia then?
Maybe we sing a little more softly. Maybe it comes out off-key. But Easter tells us: we can still sing. Even when we ache, God is with us.
So as we celebrate this great feast of Easter—with both alleluias and aches—let’s remember that God has the power to turn mourning into joy, darkness into light, conflict into peace, and death into life.
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