Breathe in Easter

From Not By Bread Alone, 2018

“I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”  Ps 118:17

While Handel’s Hallelujah chorus with its glittering brass glissades and pounding drums may be the iconic grand Easter chorus, for me it is Eric Whitacre’s lush and complex choral setting of the single word “alleluia,” that sings of the resurrection. The chorus begins so softly, I’m never sure quite when the piece begins, or if that breath of an alleluia is only in my mind.  Soon the alleluias swell and fade in waves. At last the sopranos hit a note almost impossibly high, swirling over the rest until a tenor solo breaks in. Alleluia. This is how I imagine the resurrection, Jesus taking that first uncertain breath, his chest barely rising and falling, his breathing gradually growing in strength and regularity, until the Spirit breathes onto him, calling his voice forth again. Alleluia. This is the resurrection as I imagine it.  No trumpets, no great beams of light, simply God breathing unto God in one unbroken line of praise.  Alleluia.  He is risen. Alleluia. We are risen. Alleluia.  You will rise again. Alleluia, alleluia, an infinity of alleluias.

St. John of the Cross, expanding on his Spiritual Canticle, writes of the soul “catching its breath in God.”  God breathes into us, fashioning us in the image and likeness of the Trinity.  We breathe that same air of love back into God.  To use Gerard Manley Hopkins SJ’s powerful image from his poem, “Easter Communion,” we who have kept vigil are now breathing Easter, catching our breath again in the resurrection, brought to life from Lent’s ashes. 

We breathe in to live, we breathe out to speak, to sing, to pray.  It is an ordinary miracle we have been given. No trumpets, no gold clad angelic choruses descending to earth, simply God’s breath ever in our mouths, God’s breath ever in our souls.  Let us ever and always, breathe Easter.  Alleluia. Alleluia!

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy.
Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy.
Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy.
Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy.
Guard me, O Holy Spirit, that I myself may always be holy.
— St. Augustine of Hippo