Acts 10: Power and humility

How easy it would have been for Peter to become puffed up.

Just a few years ago, he was a humble fisherman. But look at him now!

When he speaks, thousands hang on his every word (2:41); he heals the lame (3:7, 9:33-34); people "carried out the sick into the streets and laid them on cots and mats, that as Peter came by at least his shadow might fall on some of them" (5:15); he even has power over life and death (5:1-10, 9:36-41).

How easy it would have been for Peter to start thinking that he was pretty great. Maybe even as great as Jesus? After all, what could Jesus do that he couldn't?

And now this.

Peter is summoned to the house of a Gentile, a centurion named Cornelius. As he enters, "Cornelius met him and fell down at his feet and worshiped him" (10:25).

Now, I don't know what it's like to be worshiped. I'd imagine it could be quite intoxicating. But Peter doesn't let his mind become so muddled as to believe that his power is his own. He does not forget that everything he has, everything he is, is a gift from God, and that he acts only in the name and the power of Jesus.

Peter knows he is not the new Christ. He is only, as it were, the babysitter; Jesus had to go away for a little while, so he asked Peter to tend his flock while he was gone (Jn 21:16).

So he lifts up Cornelius, saying, "Stand up; I too am a man" (10:26).

And then he preaches to the Gentiles the Gospel of the true God-man.

(Image: Francesco Trevisani, "Peter Baptizing the Centurion Cornelius," 1709)

Acts 9: The Way

So Saul, who had presided over the stoning of Stephen, "went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem" (9:1-2). Of course, it would be on the road to Damascus that Saul would have his famous conversion experience, but at the moment I'm more interested in the phrase used to describe the early church: the Way.

For Christianity -- or, the church -- is not just a belief system, or an institution, or a moral code, or a conversion experience; it's not just a heritage, or a set of rituals, or having Jesus in your heart; it's not just a book, or a building, or a big group of people. It comprises all these things, of course, but ultimately it is the Way -- a way of seeing, a way of living that ought to shape every facet of your existence.

It means devoting yourself to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers; it means loving the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength, and your neighbor as yourself; it means feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick and imprisoned; it means taking up your cross daily and following Christ.

It means answering the call of the Lord, even if, like Ananias, you're asked to minister to one who's been dragging Christians out of their houses and "breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord" (9:1).

(Image: Pietro de Cortona, "Ananias restoring the sight of Saint Paul," 1631)

Acts 8: Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch

The Ethiopian eunuch seems to me a model of humility and simple wisdom.

When Philip, one of the seven chosen to serve in Acts 6, hears the eunuch reading from the prophet Isaiah, he asks him, "Do you understand what you are reading?" (8:30). And the eunuch, more eager to learn than to appear learned, replies, "How can I, unless someone guides me?" (8:31), and asks Philip for help.

The eunuch does not understand Isaiah's prophecy of the suffering servant:

"Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter and like a lamb before its shearer is silent, so he opens not his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth." (8:32-33)

Who is the prophet talking about, he asks? "Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with this Scripture he told him the good news about Jesus" (8:35).

Philip's method of scriptural interpretation follows the example set by Christ himself; recall, for example, his discussion with two disciples on the road to Emmaus, when, "beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself" (Lk 24:27).

For, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church, echoing St. Augustine, puts it, "the New Testament lies hidden in the Old and the Old Testament is unveiled in the New."

Then, understanding Isaiah's prophecy and the good news of Jesus, the eunuch does the logical thing and eagerly asks to be baptized.

(Image: Rembrandt, "The baptism of the eunuch," 1626)

Acts 7: St. Stephen the protomartyr

St. Stephen is known as the protomartyr of Christianity, the first to be killed for the faith. He is immortalized not only in the Bible, but also in that strange Christmas carol "Good King Wenceslas" (the "feast of Stephen," on which the good king "looked out," is Dec. 26).

He is a model martyr, boldly bearing witness to the truth in the face of fierce opposition.

Seized by an angry crowd and falsely accused of blasphemy, Stephen is not cowed; he preaches a long sermon summarizing salvation history from Abraham to his own time, ending with a blistering indictment of his accusers:

"You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you. Which of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who announced beforehand the coming of the Righteous One, whom you have now betrayed and murdered, you who received the law as delivered by angels and did not keep it." (7:51-53)

This pushes the crowd over the edge; grinding their teeth and stopping their ears, they rush upon him and drag him out of the city to stone him.

As he is pummeled to death, Stephen echoes Christ's own words from the cross: As Jesus had cried, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!" (Lk 23:46), so Stephen calls out, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (7:59).

And just as Jesus had prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Lk 23:34), Stephen also is full of compassion to the end -- his last words are a prayer for his murderers: "Lord, do not hold this sin against them" (7:60).

(Image: Giorgio Vasari, "Martyrdom of Saint Stephen," 1560s)

Acts 6: Some things to some people

I'm sometimes depressed by my failure to live up to Paul's line about being "all things to all people" (1 Cor 9:22). Which is silly, because Paul himself says that there are varieties of gifts, service, and activities amongst Christians (1 Cor 12).

The Twelve acknowledge this reality when trouble arises regarding the care of widows in the early church. They decide: "It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we will appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word" (6:2-4).

Different roles for different people. The church is not a monolith; rather, as G.K. Chesterton wrote in "Orthodoxy," it is a fantastic balancing act:

"Because a man prayed and fasted on the Northern snows, flowers could be flung at his festival in the Southern cities; and because fanatics drank water on the sands of Syria, men could still drink cider in the orchards of England. This is what makes Christendom at once so much more perplexing and so much more interesting than the Pagan empire; just as Amiens Cathedral is not better but more interesting than the Parthenon. ... Patriotism is a perfect example of this deliberate balancing of one emphasis against another emphasis. The instinct of the Pagan empire would have said, 'You shall all be Roman citizens, and grow alike; let the German grow less slow and reverent; the Frenchmen less experimental and swift.' But the instinct of Christian Europe says, 'Let the German remain slow and reverent, that the Frenchman may the more safely be swift and experimental. We will make an equipoise out of these excesses. The absurdity called Germany shall correct the insanity called France.'"

(Image: G.K. Chesterton, photo by Alvin Langdon Coburn, 1905)

Acts 5: Rejoicing in suffering

No sane person enjoys suffering. This has always been the case. And yet, it seems that we modern-day citizens of developed countries have become quite extraordinarily intolerant of discomfort.

I, for example, am inspired each summer to reflect in horror upon the fact that there once was no such thing as air conditioning.

Such daintiness was utterly foreign to the apostles, who, after being arrested and beaten for preaching in the name of Jesus, leave "rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name. And every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching Jesus as the Christ" (5:41-42).

I like to think that, if called upon to do so, I would be willing to suffer dishonor, beatings, and even martyrdom for my faith as the apostles did. But, in reality, I don't even want to sacrifice an extra 30 minutes of sleep in the morning to wake up and start the day with prayer; and as Jesus said, "One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much" (Lk 16:10).

If we want to be great witnesses like the apostles, we must first devote ourselves "to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (2:42). If we wish to withstand some great trial in the hypothetical future, we must be willing to endure small sufferings in the present with joy. Regularly sacrificing some creature comfort -- food, drink, leisure -- is one way we may train ourselves.

(Image: Fyodor Zubov, "Ministry of the Apostles," 1660)

Acts 4: A lesson in boldness

So the Jewish leaders get annoyed with Peter and John healing and preaching and baptizing people, so they arrest them, throw them in a cell and haul them in front of the Sanhedrin the next day for questioning about how they healed a lame beggar.

And Peter and John are, for lack of a better term, pretty badass. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter is unfazed:

"Rulers of the people and elders, if we are being examined today concerning a good deed done to a crippled man, by what means this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead -- by him this man is standing before you well." (4:8-10)

The council orders them "not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus" (4:18) anymore, and Peter and John basically say, "Thanks, but no":

"Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge, for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard." (4:19-20)

Then, having just conducted a clinic in boldness, they go and pray for more boldness in speaking God's word -- certainly a lesson for us never to let ourselves become complacent or self-satisfied.

(Image: Martino di Bartolomeo, "St. Peter," 1400)

Acts 3: The healing power of Christ

As Peter and John go to the temple to pray, they come upon a lame beggar at the Beautiful Gate; he looks at them expectantly, hoping for a little money:

"But Peter said, 'I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!' And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God." (3:6-8)

We see, of course, that the apostles have been empowered to carry on Jesus' healing ministry. But I think we must also see ourselves in this story, in the roles both of Peter and of the beggar.

Whenever we meet someone who is suffering -- whether physically or spiritually -- we, like Peter, must be willing and eager to do whatever we can, to give whatever we have, to help him.

And like the lame beggar, we must acknowledge our own infirmities and accept the healing power of Christ with humility and joy.

We can experience a healing no less dramatic than the beggar's each time we turn away from sin and toward our loving Lord. As Peter says in his second sermon: "Repent therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out, that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord" (3:19-20).

(Image: Gustave Dore, "St. Peter and St. John at the Beautiful Gate," 19th century)

Acts 2: The birth of the church

The descent of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles and other followers of Jesus at Pentecost is sometimes called the birth of the church. Under the influence of the Spirit, the people begin to speak in tongues, and Jews from all over the world miraculously hear the words in their own languages, prefiguring the eventual spread of the Gospel to every nation. But others, witnessing one of the major turning points in history, mock the spectacle: "They are filled with new wine" (2:13).

There have always been scoffers.

But Peter protests and preaches his first sermon, the upshot of which is, "Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (2:38).

Some have always been scandalized, or at least confused, by how strangely physical Christianity is. For it is not just "repent and believe" but "repent and be baptized" -- what could water have to do with the forgiveness of sins, with receiving the Holy Spirit, with being a Christian? And yet, "unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God" (Jn 3:5).

And after Peter's sermon about 3,000 people are baptized, and "they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (2:42). What was the apostles' teaching? According to tradition, it is encapsulated in the Apostles' Creed:

I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.
Amen.

(Image: El Greco, "Descent of the Holy Ghost," 1604-1614)

Acts 1: Witnessing unto death

In the first chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, Luke's history of the early church, we see the apostles preparing for the coming of the Holy Spirit and the start of their ministry.

In the wake of Judas' betrayal of Jesus and subsequent suicide, Peter cites Psalm 109, which says, "Let another take his office" (1:20). He continues:

"So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us -- one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection." (1:21-22)

Lots are cast and Matthias is enrolled with the other eleven apostles, restoring the symbolic number of 12. He joins Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James in fulfilling the commission Jesus gave before his ascension: "you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth" (1:8).

This is a weighty charge. The Greek word translated "witness" is the same word from which we get the English "martyr."

And according to tradition, nearly all the apostles bore faithful witness to Christ even unto their grisly deaths, whether they were beheaded or crucified or flayed or beaten to death. Only John got off easy -- he was just thrown in boiling oil and then exiled to an island.

(Caravaggio, "Crucifixion of Peter," 1600-1601)

Luke 24: The Resurrection and "resurrection faith"

There's a certain brand of self-described Christian -- they're often ministers and/or professors -- that says that the true meaning of Easter is the disciples' "resurrection faith" or some such thing that ultimately amounts to saying that Jesus never really came out of his tomb. The disciples' experience of the "risen Christ" was purely a psychological or spiritual phenomenon not to be taken in literal, physical terms.

If that was the case, Luke never got the memo.

In the final chapter of his Gospel, Luke seems at pains to hammer home the point that Jesus' resurrection is a profoundly physical event: Jesus was dead and buried, and now he's back, victorious over death, in the very same (albeit mysteriously glorified) body.

This is a tad unusual and hard to believe, as both Jesus and Luke realize -- and so they try to make it as clear and explicit as possible. First, of course, there is the empty tomb.

Then, when Jesus appears to his disciples and they think they're seeing a ghost, Jesus responds, "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have" (24:38-39).

As a sort of encore, Jesus asks for some food, and then eats a piece of broiled fish.

If these details are meant to convey only the disciples' "resurrection faith," and not the literal bodily resurrection of Jesus, then Luke is a terrible storyteller -- and our faith is in vain, and we are still in our sins.

(Image: Raffaelino del Garbo, "Resurrection," 1510)

Luke 23: God's infinite mercy

There's an old tradition that the place of Jesus' crucifixion -- Golgotha or Calvary, meaning The Skull -- was so called because it was the resting place of Adam, and that as Jesus suffered and died on the cross, his blood seeped into the soil and touched the skull of our first parent.

Whether or not this is historically accurate is immaterial; the truth that it represents remains: The redemptive power of Christ's precious shed blood extends to all mankind. In his infinite mercy, the God-man willingly bore unthinkable pain and shame and the weight of all the sins of the world in order to save us from our sins and open the way to eternal life. God died out of mercy for us.

Of the four Passion narratives, Luke's most explicitly emphasizes Jesus' mercy: Even as he is nailed to the cross, Jesus prays for his executioners, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (23:34). And when one of the thieves crucified beside him humbly asks, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom" (23:42), he replies, "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise" (23:43).

May we always be grateful and never take his mercy for granted.

(Image: Fra Angelico, "Crucifixion of Christ and two thieves," c. 1437-1446)

Luke 22: Peter's denial, and ours

Peter's threefold denial of Jesus is one of the most poignant moments in the Gospels. Three times Peter denies that he even knows his own master. We wonder: How could he do that?

Only a few hours prior he had boldly promised, "Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death" (22:33), and Jesus had warned him that he would deny him three times. Peter knew better; he should have been on his guard.

And yet, in the courtyard of the high priest's house following Jesus' arrest, Peter denies his Lord once, and again, and a third time:

"And immediately, while he was still speaking, the rooster crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the saying of the Lord, how he had said to him, 'Before the rooster crows today, you will deny me three times.' And he went out and wept bitterly." (22:60-62)

"And the Lord turned and looked at Peter" -- what a terrible moment. What was the Lord's expression? I imagine him like a weary father telling a wayward son, "I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed."

It is the same face of heartbroken love with which Jesus looks on us every time we deny him -- whether through words, when we downplay our faith out of embarrassment, or through actions, when we sin against him for our own self-centered, shortsighted gain.

We should know better.

(Image: Rembrandt, "Peter denies Jesus," 1660)

Luke 21: "You will be hated"

I have little instinctive sympathy with the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights, a group that responds to every perceived attack on the Catholic Church -- no matter how trivial or silly -- with a prompt counterattack in the form of a sneering and sarcastic press release from its president, Bill Donohue.

I understand the impulse to defend the Christian faith and those who practice it, but this hardly seems the right way to do it. Too often, the Catholic League seems ignorant of Christ's own words: "You will be hated by all for my name's sake" (21:17). The implication is not, "So hit 'em back with all ya got!"

Rather, as Christ says in his Sermon on the Plain: "Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets" (6:22-23).

As Christians, we should expect to face opposition and even hatred: It means we're doing it right. We cannot respond by fighting fire with fire, or feeling sorry for ourselves, or even feeling smugly superior. The early Christian martyrs went to their gruesome deaths singing hymns of praise.

If the church is under attack by the culture, we ought to feel sorry not for the church, but for the culture. Our response must be one of love.

The last words of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, were a prayer for his persecutors: "Lord, do not hold this sin against them" (Acts 7:60).

(Image: Jean-Leon Gerome, "The Christian Martyrs' Last Prayer," 1883)