The Second Day of Christmas – On the Feast of Stephen

You are the ones that received the law as ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it. (Acts 7:53)

The second Day of Christmas commemorates the life and witness of St. Stephen, the first martyr for the Christian faith (martyrdom in all its dimensions, including faithfulness unto death at the hands of others). This may seem odd to those whose understanding of Christianity is drawn largely from secular or sentimental sources, but those who live the Gospel with any degree of seriousness will understand its significance with little guidance.

What we know about St. Stephen we know from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. He was likely a Hellenistic Jew who had accepted Jesus as Messiah. He was numbered amongst the first deacons of the Church, and his servant ministry helped heal an early breech in the Christian community (there goes the idea that Christianity is always an untroubled picture of easy-going disciples!).

St. Stephen was also a gifted and fiery speaker. His command of the Biblical narrative, as St. Luke reports it in Acts, was magnificent. He combined this gift with the fearlessness of being a truth-teller for God (not for his own ego’s purposes…a vastly different matter and frankly rather rare amongst many self-appointed truth-tellers in the news). All of this together made him a formidable character and a real threat to the religious status quo.

Stephen’s ministry culminates in a recitation of Salvation history before the Sanhedrin, often sculpted in such a way as to drive home a central charge of unfaithfulness and contempt among the religious leadership specifically, and the Jewish people in general. His denunciation of their culture of sin comes to rest with the above-quoted indictment. Such self-criticism is perhaps the hardest kind to hear, as the usual recourse to “blaming the outsider” becomes impossible. In every age, anyone willing to tell truth this way is liable to rejection and even destruction.

The leadership and commoners join together in an unlawful action of mob “justice,” and after condemning him, stone St. Stephen to death. In the midst of this tumultuous scene, he is granted a vision of the Messiah he loved and served, allowing him to summon the courage and mercy to forgive his killers in the very act of murder. It is a kind of miniature Passion, death, and resurrection (at least in embryonic form) of Christ-applied-to-the-disciple.

Aside from making clear the distinction between true Christian martyrdom (where a righteous person, called by God, lives authentically the Gospel of Christ to the point of being killed for it) and some other false types of “martyrdom” encountered in this world, the story of St. Stephen is an absolute call for us to forgive our persecutors. This marks a decisive difference between Christianity and the world around us, and is only possible if we have deeply internalized the Gospel message and are living more and more “in Christ,” as St. Paul puts it.

St. Stephen’s day is also a day to recommit to telling the “Gospel truth” in life, rather than keep mum, assent, or cooperate with evil and lies. This applies to societal wrongs and personal sinfulness.

Right now in the Episcopal Church, and much American Christianity, there is a tendency to focus on the reform of social structures apart from the reform of the human heart. Our emphasis goes on public ills (and of course it must), but often without the patient and careful teaching about those private ills that make societal injustice not only possible but sustainable.

In St. Stephen we see the pattern for how disciples follow Jesus’ commandment to love God and our neighbor—by telling the truth not from our own anger but from God’s righteousness. That same righteousness must be applied to our own inner life and the world around us. Only when that consistency is applied and observed is the Gospel really being put into action. Without it, we turn a blind eye to some aspect of what God calls us to be or do in bringing forth the Kingdom.

All of this relates to Christmas quite naturally. Christmas is the celebration of Emmanuel—God with us. For God to be with us means to extinguish the culture of sin, a culture we often expect and accept both within and around us. For God to be truly with us means a direct confrontation with that culture, this idolatry. The three Feasts after Christmas Day (St. Stephen, St. John, and the Holy Innocents) each reflect some aspect of that confrontation.

There is no sentimentality here. The Church’s Calendar was established before sentiment became a valid category for Christians to indulge in with regard to the essentials of faith (thanks be to God). This makes the Calendar both very powerful as a tool for teaching the faith—and at times remote from current consumer culture.

Thankfully, the Truth from Above will long outlast and outshine our current cultural preoccupations. The Grace of God provides both the tenderness and the impulse needed to glorify the Christ-child in our current day, within our hearts and homes as well as the civic forum. The life and words of St. Stephen show us one aspect of what it truly means to celebrate Christmas as a fact of life and not just a fleeting season. So, speak truth in love, and join the great Protomartyr in glorifying the Messiah in every aspect of your life, for God is With Us!

Collect for the Feast of St. Stephen, Protomartyr

We give you thanks, O Lord of glory, for the example of the first martyr Stephen, who looked up to heaven and prayed for his persecutors to your Son Jesus Christ, who stands at your right hand; where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

A Collect for Christmastide

Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

We are included in these words: On St. Thomas’ Day

Below are extracts from a sermon by St. Gregory the Great, Bishop of Rome (c. 540-604, commemorated March 12) having to do with St. Thomas, whose feast day today.

St. Thomas is found in the Calendar near both Easter and Christmas. The Sunday after Easter Day always includes the account of Christ’s appearing to the disciples following his resurrection, focusing on St. Thomas’ doubt-turned-to-belief. St. Thomas’ Feast Day just precedes Christmas. It is an interesting placement.

The Apostle Thomas is known to many today because of his supposed lack of faith. This is deeply unfair, as what is remarkable and significant in his witness is not so much a lack of faith as a tenacity of faithfulness in the face of opposition. The fact that Thomas returns to be with the disciples in the Upper Room even after hearing their amazing (and credulity-straining) account of the Risen Christ suggests that even if his rational self was not able to accept their testimony, his desire to be with them and his hope for further explanation and experience of Christ following the Crucifixion was more powerful. These are important elements of a living faith.

St. Gregory goes on to note that Thomas did not have faith because of what he saw in that Upper Room: he had knowledge. That knowledge, combined with his own desire and love made for openness to God’s power in his life, and this brought about faith.

It is this two-way nature of faith that is often difficult for people today to understand, fed as we are on ideological one-way freeways. Surprisingly, ancient people were just as skeptical as moderns—in their own way—but they were deeply concerned with levels of relationship and experience that have largely faded from our culture’s screen for the time being.

Pope St. Gregory ends up by drawing attention to the fact that Our Lord promises even greater blessing to those who have come to believe and yet not seen, not had this king of personal knowledge based on physical experience. As St. Gregory points out, that blessing includes all of us who follow after the Apostles.

Christ knew that his work of salvation and redemption would require his physical Ascension into heaven, and that his personal physical presence would no longer by available in the same form. He knew that what would require a different kind of relationship. And it is that kind of living participation in the living Christ—through the power of the Holy Spirit—that would come with the Pentecost.

Yet, because our faith is constantly being renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit placed in us by Baptism in Christ, we are not operating alone. We are living members of Christ’s Living Body: The Church. And this brings us to St. Gregory’s concluding observation.

Just as St. Thomas’ desire for communion with God and the other Apostles brought him back into their company so that he could receive the great blessing of Christ’s presence, so the Holy Spirit implanted in us gives us a desire and need to do the works of the Kingdom of God. The way we are called to live this out may vary, but the need to do so does not. A true faith is not only made of words—even such daring and powerful words as “My Lord and my God!”—but of deeds.

Tradition holds that St. Thomas eventually made his way to India in his ministry. His life was irrevocably changed, and he could never go back to “the way it was before.” His missionary work was his response to his experience. When we are given the experience of Christ in the Church, in the life of another person, in the world around us, what is our response, our way of joining St. Thomas in saying those glorious words: “My Lord and My God!”

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Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. He was the only disciple absent; on his return he heard what had happened but refused to believe it. The Lord came a second time; he offered his side for the disbelieving disciple to touch, held out his hands, and showing the scars of his wounds, healed the wound of his disbelief.

Dearly beloved, what do you see in these events? Do you really believe that it was by chance that this chosen disciple was absent, then came and heard, heard and doubted, doubted and touched, touched and believed? It was not by chance but in God’s providence. In a marvelous way God’s mercy arranged that the disbelieving disciple, in touching the wounds of his master’s body, should heal our wounds of disbelief. The disbelief of Thomas has done more for our faith than the faith of the other disciples. As he touches Christ and is won over to belief, every doubt is cast aside and our faith is strengthened. So the disciple who doubted, then felt Christ’s wounds, becomes a witness to the reality of the resurrection.

Touching Christ, he cried out: My Lord and my God. Jesus said to him: Because you have seen me, Thomas, you have believed. Paul said: Faith is the guarantee of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen. It is clear, then, that faith is the proof of what cannot be seen. What is seen gives knowledge, not faith. When Thomas saw and touched, why was he told: You have believed because you have seen me? Because what he saw and what he believed were different things. God cannot be seen by mortal man. Thomas saw a human being, whom he acknowledged to be God, and said: My Lord and my God. Seeing, he believed; looking at one who was true man, he cried out that this was God, the God he could not see.

What follows is reason for great joy: Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed. There is here a particular reference to ourselves; we hold in our hearts one we have not seen in the flesh. We are included in these words, but only if we follow up our faith with good works. The true believer practices what he believes. But of those who pay only lip service to faith, Paul has this to say: They profess to know God, but they deny him in their works. Therefore James says: Faith without works is dead.

(St. Gregory the Great; from Homily 26)

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The Collect of the Feast of St. Thomas

Everliving God, who strengthened your apostle Thomas with firm and certain faith in your Son's resurrection: Grant us so perfectly and without doubt to believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God, that our faith may never be found wanting in your sight; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

"Into thy hands, O Father and Lord..."

Recently, as part of a series offered in our parish on lectio Divina, I used this prayer to concluded a class. A number of participants told me afterwards that they found it very beautiful and moving. So, I copied it off and distributed it to them the following week. Since that time, I have garnered some other positive comments about this prayer when I posted it on my own Facebook page. The upshot is that I am delighted that a classic prayer I have found very meaningful for many years is useful to others, aiding them in offering their concerns to God.

I found this prayer in the early 1980's inside a copy of The Cuddesdon Office Book I purchased in a little bookstore in Canterbury, very near the Cathedral. It appears as one of a number of optional Memorials after the conclusion of the Compline service. From the first time I read it, I felt it speak to my soul and open a channel of assurance and peace in communicating with God.

Years later, I learned that this prayer is traditionally attributed to Edmund Rich (1175-1240), also known as St. Edmund of Abingdon, Archbishop of Canterbury (making the purchase of the book there seem very "meet-and-right"). His life is very interesting on a number of levels. His dedication to prayer was exemplary, and this prayer seems to spring from the kind of deeply-engraved experience of turning to God through life behind many of the best written prayers.

So, I offer this prayer for your use and consideration...perhaps at the close of day, or when you feel exhausted by concern or anxiety and simply need to "give it to the Lord."

A COMMENDATION

Into thy hands, O Father and Lord, 

we commend our souls and bodies, 

our parents and our homes, 

friends, neighbours and kindred, 

our benefactors and brethren departed, 

all folk rightly believing 

and all who need thy pity and protection. 


Light us with thy holy grace
 

and suffer us never 

to be separated from thee, 

O Lord in Trinity, 

God everlasting. 

Amen.

“The end of all our desires…” Advent and Expectations

What do you expect from life? What do you desire from it? What do you really expect from God, and what are your desires as a consequence of your faith? If you believe in Christ Jesus, how are your expectations different, your desires changed, from those of one who has no such belief? Is your faith a truly expectant one? If not...why not?

Advent marks the beginning of the Church Year; it is also a good time to renew our expectations and desire. A materialistic or secular person often expects little from life, but desires much in the short space allotted to it. Built into this attitude—exemplified by consumerism—is a deep frustration that begs to be relieved by self-medication and ecstatic behaviors.

The believer expects eternal life with God and lives in ever-greater accord with God’s will—exemplified by Jesus Christ and the Gospel way of life—desiring what leads to the experience of that communion with God in the now, as well as at the end of life. Such an attitude is based on a present joy, a deep mindfulness, and a searching love.

Each Advent we look beyond the reach of human vision into the promises of God made known in Holy Scripture. Those promises give us courage to live even now what we know from experience only partially. Faith is fed on these promises. We need to dwell in them, like a thirsty pilgrim on a summer’s day. For that, in truth, is what we are.

Here are some words from “the Angelic Doctor” about this season in the Church’s year and our faith…

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The first point about eternal life is that man is united with God. For God himself is the reward and end of all our labors: I am your protector and your supreme reward. This union consists in seeing perfectly: At present we see through a glass, darkly; but then we shall see face to face.

Next it consists in perfect praise, according to the words of the prophet: Joy and happiness will be found in it, thanksgiving and words of praise.

It also consists in the complete satisfaction of desire, for there the blessed will be given more than they wanted or hoped for. The reason is that in this life no one can fulfill his longing, nor can any creature satisfy man’s desire. Only God satisfies, he infinitely exceeds all other pleasures. That is why man can rest in nothing but God. As Augustine says: You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our heart can find no rest until it rests in you.

Since in their heavenly home the saints will possess God completely, obviously their longing will be satisfied, and their glory will be even greater. That is why the Lord says: Enter into the joy of your Lord. Augustine adds: The fullness of joy will not enter into those who rejoice, but those who rejoice will enter into joy. I shall be satisfied when your glory is seen, and again: He who satisfies your desire with good things.

Whatever is delightful is there in superabundance. If delights are sought, there is supreme and most perfect delight. It is said of God, the supreme good: Boundless delights are in your right hand.

Again, eternal life consists of the joyous community of all the blessed, a community of supreme delight, since everyone will share all that is good with all the blessed. Everyone will love everyone else as himself, and therefore will rejoice in another’s good as in his own. So it follows that the happiness and joy of each grows in proportion to the joy of all.

(St. Thomas Aquinas, from “Collation on the Creed”)