From Pascha until its leave taking thirty nine days later, the troparion saturates Orthodox worship. It opens and closes the services of Bright Week, replaces the usual opening prayers of the hours in the paschal season, is sung at every liturgy of the forty days, and spills out of church into custom, sung at the paschal blessing of foods, at family tables, and at the graves of the dead, which the faithful visit in the season to announce the resurrection to those most concerned by it.
The exchange of the paschal greeting, Christ is risen, truly he is risen, is the troparion broken into dialogue, and in multiethnic parishes both greeting and hymn are deliberately repeated in language after language, Greek, Slavonic, Arabic, Romanian, English and whatever else the parish speaks, a Pentecost of one sentence. Each chant family owns melodies for it, the Greek tradition's buoyant syllabic tune, the Slavic traditions' broader settings, and composers have built paschal concert works around it. Its constant repetition is the point rather than a liability. Orthodox writers describe the forty days as one continuous day, and the troparion's recurrence is how the liturgy keeps that fiction audible, the same victory announced at every turning until the feast of the Ascension finally lets the sentence rest for a year.