In celebrating the 700th anniversary of the poet Dante Alighieri’s death, Pope Francis opened his 2021 apostolic letter “Candor Lucis Aeternae” with a reference to the ancient Florentine calendar starting the year on March 25. This was because Florence marked time “ab Incarnatione,” meaning from the time when Jesus Christ took on human flesh.
For Dante, this was marked less at Christmas than at the scene of the Annunciation, which he describes among the visions he experiences in the Purgatorio: “The angel who came down to announce on earth the peace longed for by weeping centuries, which broke the ancient ban and opened Heaven, appeared before our eyes … One would have sworn that he was saying ‘Ave!’ For she who turned the key, opening for us the Highest Love, was also figured there; the outlines of her image carved the words ‘Ecce ancilla Dei,’ as clearly cut as is the imprint of a seal on wax.” (Canto X, 34-45) Dante here is referencing Mary – “she who turned the key,” unbolting the gates to Heaven by giving her enthusiastic “yes” in the Latin phrase referenced: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord.” (Lk 1:38)
The celebration that we usually refer to in the United States as the feast of the Annunciation, March 25, is then called in many Spanish-speaking countries: the Fiesta de la Encarnación. In other places, this Marian festival is known as “Lady Day.” It is marked all across the Christian world in some form: not only among Catholics but also our Anglican, Lutheran and Orthodox brothers and sisters.
Because of its proximity to the Spring equinox and a tradition that God’s original act of creation took place in this season, many ancient Christians believed that March 25 was not only nine months before Christmas, but also the actual date of the Crucifixion.
Some of the liturgical practices that we take for granted as long-settled caused much unrest and disagreement in the early Church. The Quartodecimans – related to the Latin word for “fourteenthers” – for example, were a group of early believers who observed Easter not as we do now, on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. Instead, they observed it on the 14th day of Nisan in the Jewish calendar, no matter which day of the week it fell upon. This is when the Jewish Passover was recognized, which is of course frequently referenced in the Passion narratives. It is believed that Saint Polycarp, a disciple of the Apostle John, followed this now seemingly foreign practice.
Interestingly for modern audiences, some sources claim an early synod involving Saint Polycarp and Pope Anicetus (154-166 AD) ended peaceably with the two remaining in communion but accommodating their divergent local ecclesial practices regarding their paschal celebrations. Eventually, the Roman preference for “Easter Sunday,” as opposed to other days of the week, won out and has stuck with us to this day.
March, then, has quite the spiritual significance. (Plus it is also sees the celebrations of Saint Patrick and Saint Joseph.) The name of the month in English comes from the Roman god of war, Mars, since it was about the time of year that most conquering campaigns resumed after pausing to wait out the winter in the Northern hemisphere. Since Easter as we celebrate it now always falls between March 22 and April 25, it’s appropriate that Lent at least partially intersects with March each year. So, the spiritual context carries some of those combative connotations forward, as we wage the war within to overcome sin, division and hatred – and prepare ourselves once more to mark Christ’s ultimate victory, an annual springtime tradition which is truly unlike any other.
An alumnus of Camden Catholic High School, Cherry Hill, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.
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