The Martyrdom Of St. Stephen

Yesterday, the Western Church celebrated the martyrdom of Saint Stephen. Today, it’s our turn in the East.

Here, we see a tenth century painting of the event, from the Menologion of Basil II.  There’s Saint Stephen, who just saw the Son of Man standing at the Right Hand of God, on his knees on the sand, bleeding from a head wound and supplicating for his murderers. There’s the aforementioned Right Hand of God reaching down from above the firmament and receiving his spirit, or perhaps sending down a blessing. Probably both: that’s what always happens when a martyr’s blood is shed.

On the other side of Stephen are two devout Jews, suspiciously dressed and shaven as if they were Byzantine Christian noblemen from tenth century Constantinople where the Menologion was written and illuminated. They are pelting Saint Stephen with nice round white lozenges; one of them has bounced off the martyr’s head and landed at the root of a dead tree. Maybe this tree was just drawn in for symmetry’s sake, but I think it’s symbolic. Like the nails and crown lying at the foot of the cross in any picture of the Descent and Burial, we have the instrument of martyrdom falling in the blood spray at the root of a dead tree. If we were to come back to this scene tomorrow, perhaps we’d find that the tree had budded and borne fruit again. That’s what happens, whenever a martyr’s blood is shed.

And who’s that to the side of these zealous Palestinian Jews who look suspiciously like Constantinople’s Byzantine Christians? Just under the fortress, sitting genii-like on top of a pile of fluttering garments? With a white rock in his hand that could just be a scroll of scripture?

That’s Saul, of course– Saul, who would one day be baptized as Paul. Saul, worst of sinners, a devout Jew and a Roman citizen, named after the failed king who tried to kill King David, is sitting there watching the cloaks of the Jews as they stoned the martyr who preached them the Gospel of David’s Heir. We should never forget that the first appearance of this great apostle was when he acted as coat check boy for a lynch mob. Truly, through the intercession of the holy martyrs, there is hope for all of us.

Saul didn’t stone Saint Stephen. Saul wasn’t part of any mob. Saul just watched, and approved of those who did.  Stephen had broken The Law, after all; he certainly sounded like a blasphemer. This is what happens to blasphemers, and Saul approved. But he didn’t do it himself.

Later, Saul would get involved in a more active way, and then he’d be struck blind.

Saul, why do you persecute Me? 

Who are you, sir? 

I am Jesus, who you are persecuting. 

We all should pray for the grace to be struck blind and to be asked, “Why do you persecute me?” and told “I am Jesus.”

Because, the fact is, we all do.

We don’t all join in the mob, but I’ll bet every one of us has stood by the pile of cloaks, and approved.

Saul was just watching people doing what they thought they ought to do, of course. You can imagine him watching the proceedings with a smile and a nod of approval. Yes, this is just. A little zealous, perhaps, but just, and satisfying to watch. Go ahead. I’ll watch your coat for you. I’m not going to do this, but I’m going to stand here as a silent testament that this ought to be done. I’m going to smile and nod when it’s over. These people broke the law. They should have done X, but they did Y. Save your pity for someone else.

And next thing we know, we’re going to Damascus to lead our brothers away in chains.

May the Lord make it impossible to ignore our blindness any longer.

Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? 

Who are you, sir? When did I see you? When did I see you hungry or naked or alone? When were you preaching Your life-giving Word to me, and I watched you stoned to death? When were You bullied or abused or made to go away because You were different and not what I expected, and I was relieved that You were gone? When did you come to me crying in pain, and I sent You away for disturbing my prayers with too much noise? When did I see you begging in the street or sleeping on a park bench, and I voted for the politicians who would pass laws making it a crime for You to do so? When did I see you crossing the border illegally as a refugee, and approve when you were arrested and sent back to die? When were You killed by a drone or a bomb or a bullet, and I said “one less thug” or “one less Arab?” When were You aborted, and I said “one less Welfare leech” or “one less anchor baby” or “Next time, use a condom?”

Those zealous Jews were painted to look like tenth century Byzantine Christians, because they are all of us. We, today, stone martyrs; we, today, stand by their cloaks and watch.

May God make our blindness manifest, before it’s too late. I pray this through the intercession of Holy Martyr Stephen and the Holy Apostle Paul.