* Third stanza of a hymn in Greek by John of Damascus (ca. 675–ca. 749), translated by John M. Neale. 

Listen closely for this voice. Hear creation itself calling to us: 

“Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come away;
for now the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land (Song of Songs 2:10–12). 

Arise. Come away. Now. “This is the day that the Lord has made.” Now, the queen of seasons, bright with the day of splendor. For 40 days we fasted. For three days we washed and watched, carried and kissed, burned and drenched, broke and poured out and shared. The mystery of passing over — life to death to life and love unending — the mystery of Easter is too deep for a single day, even a single Sunday. It is too broad even for the three days. Pressed down and shaken. Overflowing and bursting. Not to be contained, never to be exhausted, the time of singing has come — 50 days for our delight. Welcome the season of Easter! 

Even if you did not keep the fast. Even if you still are burdened with cares. Even if you do not feel like it. Arise! Come! Now, the queen of seasons, bright with the day of splendor, comes its joys to render. Were we not told, did we not hear, huddling together at midnight, “Come without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk! … Eat well, … delight in rich fare” (Is 55:1–2, fifth reading at the Easter Vigil)? This feast is not our just dessert; we neither earn it nor deserve it. Pure gift, this holy Eastertide is given to us by God, a wedding present. “[The One] who has become your husband is your Maker; his name is the LORD of hosts” (Is 54:5, fourth reading at the Easter Vigil). What then, is this royal feast, this gracious gift of time? 

The week of weeks

Our early ancestors saw the Fifty Days as “a week of weeks.” The seven-day week was a sign of God’s goodness, and hence the number seven became a sign of fullness, of completeness, of time satisfied. So seven weeks of seven days would be an even greater sign of God’s good acting in human time and history. But wait! Seven times seven is 49! Yet with God, there is always more than we can calculate or imagine. Our Eastertide is not only 49 days—as if that would not be great gift enough. Our Eastertide is seven-times-seven plus one more.

Pentecost, as the Greek name itself suggests, is the 50th day. Our pilgrimage as church during these 50 days is from empty tomb to upper room, from amazement to mission. Note how in the Gospels the women do not stay at the tomb. They flee from it. Partly because of fear, yes. But also partly because the mystery compels them outward and beyond the locus of the empty grave. (In fact, when they meet the risen Christ, he instructs the women to go to the apostles and tell them that he goes ahead of them and they are to come and meet him: from amazement or fear to mission!) For their part, the disciples go from the empty tomb to the upper room, where they wait behind locked doors. The risen Christ appears to them there and draws them out (in the Gospel of John), and the Holy Spirit descends on them there and ignites them on fire (in the Luke-Acts telling). Pentecost is the finish line of the Easter season, the goal and climax toward which we are being drawn: “The voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” 

But the delight of these days is that we are in no rush! We have time to savor all that the three days held for us, all that we did in acting as midwife as Mother Church labored and gave birth to children of God that Easter Eve. Eastertide is our rehearsal of savoring. Instead of gulping it down, in the 50 days, we swirl it around on our tongue, lick it off our teeth, smack our lips, even lick our fingers! Eastertide is more dessert than entrée, more honey than lima beans. You can scarf down your lima beans, but you can’t gulp honey. It’s too thick and sweet. 

From deep within the book

What is it, then, that we savor at Eastertide? Forget the beef: Where’s the honey? From deep within the book, we ponder utter beauty. Good news sparkles like rare jewels. In the Scriptures of the Triduum and of these 50 days, we tell and hear of stars and planets, ark of animals, pasture and garden, palace and temple and festal table where God reclines with us to dine and drink and dream and declare. 

Pick up the images, one at a time. Witnesses. Early in the morning. Awe came upon everyone. Communal life. Breaking of the bread. All things in common. Great mercy. Imperishable inheritance. More precious than gold. Tested by fire. Evening of the first day. Peace be with you. His hands and his side. My Lord and my God. Mighty deeds, wonders and signs. Blare of trumpets. Sheepgate. Paraclete. Mount Sinai. Bone joining bone. Locked doors. Strong driving wind. Tongues as of fire. Drunk and delirious. 

It’s a tough act to follow — literally — but it’s no accident that a primary text of the Easter season is the Acts of the Apostles, the story of our beginnings as church, mystical body of the risen Lord. Eastertide is time to read and reflect on the Acts. 

Above all to sing

The 50 Days can be summed up in a word, but not a word that we can merely say but that must be sung: Alleluia! The General Norms for the Liturgical Year and the Calendar reminds us, “The fifty days from Easter Sunday to Pentecost are celebrated in joyful exultation as one feast day, or better as one ‘Great Sunday’ (Athanasius). These above all others are the days for the singing of the Alleluia” (22). 

In these 50 days, let us resolve that never a prayer is muttered without it being punctuated by a sung Alleluia, no matter how out of tune it might sound. From religion class to parish council meeting to household dinner, let’s get in the habit of singing this song of angels and saints. 

Acts, so act!

It’s a matter, though, of whistling while we work. Since reading the Acts of the Apostles sets the agenda for the 50 days, modern-day apostles must act! Welcome the newly initiated into the many and marvelous missions undertaken in the larger community. Introduce the newly initiated and the members of the St. Vincent de Paul Society and the parish justice and peace committee and the social concerns commission and … share stories of witness and mission today, here in this place, in addition to those of the first century. 

If we keep the season of Easter faithfully, we’ll look more like that first Pentecost community. And our acts of justice and charity, though maybe never written in a book of Scripture, will certainly be inscribed in human hearts. 

David Philippart, the editor of this magazine, lives in Chicago. Write to him at davidp@rpinet.com.LC

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