Saturday in the Octave of Easter

Lectionary: 266

... they conferred with one another, saying,
“What are we to do with these men?
Everyone living in Jerusalem knows that a remarkable sign
was done through them, and we cannot deny it.
But so that it may not be spread any further among the people,
let us give them a stern warning
never again to speak to anyone in this name.”

As we come to the end of Easter week, we experience amazement and delight, touched with rueful regret. Even after the story of his resurrection, Saint Mark's Gospel hammers us with the disappointing failure of the disciples to know and trust the Lord. Despite his many healings, his walking on water, and the Father's command to, "Listen to him!" they had fled into hiding when he was led away to be crucified. And, to make matters worse, they did not believe the women who had seen him raised from the dead! 

But Saint Luke's joy is irrepressible, and his sequel to the Gospel is filled with good humor. Hearing today's first reading you have to laugh at the confusion of the leaders, elders, and scribes in Jerusalem. They're quite helpless with the ruckus the disciples are raising in the city. Seeing that, "Everyone living in Jerusalem knows that a remarkable sign was done through them, and we cannot deny it" they hilariously decide to "give them a stern warning never again to speak to anyone in this name."
Hello?

High school kids sometimes encounter that helplessness in their schools' principals and lesser officials. Caught off guard by some unprecedented, unexpected shenanigan which one or several teens have pulled off, the authorities are speechless while the kids roar with delight. Eventually, they'll resume the disciplines of routine and study but they'll never forget the bathos of those adults who really are utterly dependent upon the willing obedience of the school body. The wiser principals will let the kids have their joke, laugh with them, and wait for the return of discipline. 

The authorities in Luke's Acts of the Apostles never do get the joke, largely because something -- everything -- has truly changed with the death and resurrection of Jesus. There will be no return to the routine. Their traditional religion has been fulfilled, and the disciples must announce that Good News. Were they to fail to announce the Wonders God has Wrought the city's stones would cry out. 

The humor and Spirit of Saint Luke's text encourages us to live with that same confidence and speak with that same reassurance in our secular society. While they espouse "Diversity, Equity & Inclusion," they'd rather not hear about a faith that rivets our loyal affection to ancient beliefs. They suppose that every Catholic should readily espouse DEI because toleration is better than hostility. But there are no substitutes for Hospitality, Friendly Curiosity, and Eager Generosity. We should be ready to welcome the stranger, ask about their native customs, learn their languages, and tell them the Reason for our hope.

But, as we heard Jesus insistently tell those same officials in Jerusalem, they do not know the Father of Jesus. While the secular speaks of a generic god, which they sort-of believe in, we announce the Father of Jesus.

Truth is very patient; it's also irresistible, irrepressible, and persistent. It doesn't just go away.  Toleration forestalls violence; it doesn't stop it. It's like warfare in that regard; it settles nothing. 

When we share our faith in Jesus, openly displaying our loyalty and affection for our slain and resurrected Savior, we point to the hollowness of toleration. Just getting along is not good enough; it satisfies no one, and finally disintegrates into naked violence.

One time, as a boy, I had an enormous sliver under one fingernail. In considerable pain, I showed it to my mother, who immediately grabbed by finger and, with tweezers and a needle, went after it. I writhed in pain as she dug into it. The pain was scalding! I begged her to let it go.
"I'll just live with it! It's okay. Never mind!"

"Nothing doing!" she replied as she dug it out. And then doused the wound with Mercurochrome for good measure. 

It had to be done. The Gospel must be announced, even to a frightened, unwilling world. In the end, they'll thank us.