Monday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 291

One of them, a woman named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth, from the city of Thyatira, a worshiper of God, listened, and the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what Paul was saying.

Lydia bears a striking resemblance to the Shunnamite woman who, with her husband, welcomed Elijah to stay with them: 

One day Elisha came to Shunem, where there was a woman of influence, who pressed him to dine with her. Afterward, whenever he passed by, he would stop there to dine. So she said to her husband, “I know that he is a holy man of God. Since he visits us often, let us arrange a little room on the roof and furnish it for him with a bed, table, chair, and lamp, so that when he comes to us he can stay there.” (2 Kings 4:8ff)

Both women reflect the hospitality that God's spirit invariably inspires among those who are being saved. The Lord knew the work of the Holy Spirit, and so he directed his disciples,

Whatever town or village you enter, look for a worthy person in it, and stay there until you leave. As you enter a house, wish it peace. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; if not, let your peace return to you.

As Saint Paul and his fellow missionaries discovered, the Holy Spirit was going ahead of them, opening minds, hearts, and doors, and guiding them in the right direction. Occasionally, when they had a good idea of where they should go, the Spirit urged them not to. God knew more than they where people were ready to hear of Jesus. 

The novel Silence concerns a young, 17th century Jesuit missionary who was so determined to go to Japan that he disobeyed his superiors and went without their permission. The author Shusako Endo describes a moral conundrum. The reader must decide whether the fervent young man, realizing that his captors have created an impossible dilemma for him, must decide to betray the faith or save the life of tormented martyrs. They will not kill the priest. If he relents he will have a life of innocuous luxury; but so long as he persists the innocent will die horribly, one after another, for as long as it takes, as many as it takes, to break him. 

The story of Japanese martyrs is true; their suffering is remembered as the most brutal cruelty in our history. But the dilemma of the novel seems artificial. It's one of those what-if situations that people love to challenge those with ethical convictions. In any case, it's clear to me that the young protagonist should have obeyed his Jesuit superiors in the first place, and stifled his immature desire for heroic martyrdom.

The time eventually came when Japan was more willing to receive European and American missionaries. Their culture of death had subsided. 

Sometimes we have to wait for the right moment, and often we don't know when or if it will come. Hesitation seems like cowardice but we are clueless, not knowing what to say or do. We have to ask ourselves, "Is this only what I want to do, or is the Lord holding me back for his own good reasons?" 

Saint Anthony followed Franciscan martyrs to Morocco, hoping to meet the  same violent end. But he fell sick upon arrival and was taken into a quiet Christian home. When his sickness lingered for many days, he realized the Spirit had not sent him to Morocco. So he decided to go home. But a gale force wind blew his ship off course and he ended up in Italy. And the rest is history.

Saint Paul didn't expect to evangelize washer women. He probably hoped to speak to the elite and influential in Philippi. His triumph would have been spectacular. But he recognized the work of the Spirit and the first European converts were those of the humblest sort. We go where we're sent and we do what we're told.