Feast of Saint Stephen, first martyr

Lectionary: 696

When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.

I have just finished reading Immaculee Ilibagiza's account of the Rwandan Holocaust, "Left to Tell." Her story is intensely personal, and yet terribly familiar. 

A few months ago a friend handed me a book about the men and women who hid and protected Jews from the Nazi regime. Despite its stories of grace and God's mercy, I could not read more than a few dozen pages. I was overwhelmed by their setting. How was it possible that friends who had watched, assisted, and protected one another as neighbors, turned to spies, traitors, and conspirators of genocide? 

I was troubled also by the growing realization that it can and might happen here in the United States. Disagreements among my friends, family, and friars could devolve into an unspeakable nightmare. I have heard too many stories of genocide in Europe, Africa, and Asia to believe otherwise. 

In the incumbent President's reckless denial that he lost his bid for reelection, and in the credulity of millions of people who believe him, I see an invitation to violence. I am too familiar with American stories of lynchings, race riots, and the collaboration of police in crimes. I have listened to police as they patrolled a small, southern town.  

I am also too familiar with the darkness that could not overcome the light in our Christmas stories to not see it in the events of 2020. If anyone did not notice the sinister insinuation of Herod's instruction to the Magi, 

“Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage,”

the feasts of Saint Stephen, the Holy Innocents, and Saint Thomas Becket will remind them. 

Immaculee found strength, courage, and guidance in her Catholic faith. She hid in a small bathroom for several months with five other women, and then emerged to discover the sights, smells, and pervasive threat of death. First she begged God for her survival, and then she pleaded with God to help her forgive the unforgiveable. Clinging to her father's rosary, her only comfort was prayer. In a darkness that permitted no guiding light, the Spirit led her and protected her. More than once the killers who sought her by name were struck with blindness in her presence. 

The protomartyr Stephen invites and challenges us to see the Lord guiding and directing us daily. To believe "It can't happen here" or "It cannot happen again" is to believe in no-god; it is an about face from faith. History and the signs of the times conspire to overthrow such naivete. 

Rather, we must pray urgently, "Dear God, protect and guide us through this difficult time. Make us one again with no distinctions that would trigger another killing."