The Martyrdom of Stephen: An Unavoidable Corollary of Professing Christ

          Yesterday, we celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ.  Today, less than a day later, we celebrate the feast of St. Stephen, a martyr, the Church’s first.

          Moderns may find the one-day transition from the Nativity of the Lord to the feast of a martyr abrupt.  It shouldn’t be. 

          Contrary to modern tastes, Jesus is a polarizing figure.  Christ is not somebody one takes or leaves.  He demands a decision, a decision that often pits the person against others: his society, his culture, his peers, his family.  Only those nursing illusions downplay the significance of the war – including the culture war – in which faith in Christ Jesus engages us.  St. Stephen would never have entertained such illusions.

          The First Reading tells of his martyrdom.  Stephen is one of seven deacons chosen by the Apostles to carry out a ministry of service.  There were disputes over the just distribution of food between Jewish and Greek-speaking widows in the Jerusalem Church.  The Apostles wanted to be fair, but their mission was preaching Jesus Christ, not running a food pantry.  That doesn’t say the latter wasn’t an important job, only that it wasn’t the Apostles’.

          To that reason, the Apostles pray and then lay hands on seven men to be the first deacons, who assume that task.  At the same time, they do what they do out of witness to Jesus: witness not just of their actions but by their words.

          It is the latter that snares Stephen.

          Stephen’s eloquence confounds those who try to refute him.  But then the first reading speaks of Stephen bearing witness to seeing the heavens opened and the coming of the Son of Man.  He clearly alludes to Jesus.  His listeners clearly hear him applying Daniel’s prophecy to Christ, a passage upon which I have previously commented.  And they consider it blasphemy.

          The penalty for blasphemy was stoninhg.  They lead Stephen out and begin to stone him.  Two important observations complete the reading.  First, “a young man named Saul” – the future St. Paul – serves as cloak-check boy for Stephen’s murderers wanting less constricted wear.  Second, St. Stephen repeats Jesus’s own words at His death, asking God to “receive my spirit.”

          Being an accomplice in Stephen’s murder already tells us of the future St. Paul’s hatred towards Christianity: Stephen is a Jewish traitor abusing Scripture, especially an important prophetic vision, to promote Jesus.  Paul’s persecution of Christianity is not found merely in his expedition to Damascus to kill Christians.  It’s on display here.

          Second, Stephen teaches us that the Christian’s model in death is Christ, committing one’s self to God.  Today’s reading cites Stephen praying that God receive his spirit.  It leaves out the prayer Stephen makes about his persecutors, a prayer similar to Jesus’s: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” The responsorial psalm reinforces the theme of dying in trust of God.

          The Gospel reiterates the same point: Christianity is divisive and Christians should expect persecution.  Christians neither suffer nor die alone: they die in Christ.  Their witness is not their own eloquence but the work of the Spirit.

          In the various Gospels the confession of faith at Caesarea Philippi is the turning point.  Jesus first asks His Apostles what others say about whom He is.  After they report a survey of the results, He follows up: “And you, who do you say I am?”  That is not just a survey.  That is an existential question that demands taking a stand, committing one’s self, putting one’s self on the line.  And history has repeatedly proven – within a few years of Jesus’s own Death and Resurrection and one day liturgically – that those commitments will also cost those who make them.  It was already true even before Jesus’s Death and Resurrection: bearing witness to the truth of God also made John the Baptist, Jesus’s own precursor and herald, a martyr.

          Professing the Baby born in Bethlehem is not child’s play.  It is deadly serious business, whether in the Jerusalem Temple or a family home in America, in the streets of Jerusalem or the American workplace.  Today’s feast makes that clear.