There are liturgical seasons that prepare, tuning the ear. That of Septuagesima belongs to that pedagogy of the Church which knows that the human soul does not pass from the street to the sanctuary without slowly and silently taking the holy water, hated by the enemy and by the fear of contagions. For centuries, the Church knew that Lent—that great baptismal desert—could not begin abruptly. First, it was necessary to awaken the conscience, slow down the heart, gradually turn off the lights of the feast. Septuagesima, Sexagesima, and Quinquagesima were not “no one’s” weeks, but an atrium: an intermediate space where the soul learns that something serious is about to begin. Therefore, it is not nostalgia that leads many today, especially young people, to rediscover this season: it is a hunger for meaning, a desire for coherence, a prevention against passing too hastily through the mysteries, as if fearing silence or tiring of the wait.
The liturgy transforms the inner climate. Septuagesima Sunday does not yet announce Lenten penance in its strict form, but it does introduce an unmistakable change in atmosphere: the purple color appears; the Gloria withdraws; the Alleluia bids farewell. These are not aesthetic details, but delicate theological decisions: the Church removes from our lips the word of jubilation par excellence to teach us that there is a time to sing… and another to be silent, wait, desire. Joy is not forbidden to us; it educates us in its longing.
The liturgy of this Sunday takes us to the beginning of Scripture: creation, the fall, work, sweat. As if the Church were telling us: before speaking of redemption, remember why you need it. There is no psychologism or moralizing: there is supernatural realism.
In some places, the farewell to the Alleluia was expressed with an endearing and deeply symbolic rite: the Burial of the Alleluia. It was not a naive theatricalization, but a catechesis without words. The Alleluia written on a parchment was “buried” solemnly until the Easter Vigil. The gesture was clear: what now falls silent will return with greater force because the Church’s praise does not die, but must be purified. Because the liturgy does not consist in saying everything always, but in saying what is necessary at the right moment, knowing that silence is also language and that the absence of the dark night can sometimes be more fruitful than sensible presence: Where have you hidden, Beloved, and left me moaning..?.
To reclaim Septuagesima is not archaeology, but deep breathing; it is not asking for a sentimental setback or an uncritical restoration, but recognizing that the Roman liturgy, in its organic development, without ruptures, had achieved an extraordinary anthropological, cultural, and spiritual finesse: it knew how to prepare gradually, accompany with wise and empathetic psychology.
In an era that lives accelerated, without thresholds or waits, this season reminds us that conversion is not improvised nor achieved with pastoralist magics: it is so slow..! The Christian joy of Easter will be all the more true the more it has been awaited and purified. Perhaps that is why Septuagesima is being celebrated again: not out of nostalgia, but because it teaches to breathe before entering the great Lenten combat. And because it returns to the liturgy something that should never be taken from it: its capacity to form the soul step by step, with maternal patience and millennial wisdom.