A Reflection for the Memorial of St. Stanislaus, bishop, martyr
Find today’s readings here.
When the court officers had brought the Apostles in
and made them stand before the Sanhedrin,
the high priest questioned them,
“We gave you strict orders did we not,
to stop teaching in that name.
Yet you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching
and want to bring this man’s blood upon us.”
But Peter and the Apostles said in reply,
“We must obey God rather than men.
The God of our ancestors raised Jesus,
though you had him killed by hanging him on a tree.
God exalted him at his right hand as leader and savior
to grant Israel repentance and forgiveness of sins.
We are witnesses of these things,
as is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.”
When they heard this,
they became infuriated and wanted to put them to death. (Acts 5:27-33)
The appearance of the apostles before the Sanhedrin in today’s first reading occurs in the context of repeated arrests and questionings of the followers of Jesus after their evangelizing mission has begun. As courtroom dramas go, the story might be fairly criticized as being formulaic, or lacking a certain subtlety: The apostles are universally brave and steadfast and eloquent, their counterparts angry and frustrated and accusatory. It’s a little too John Wayne, no?
But this isn’t Hollywood, and that’s not the point. There’s something else going on. Look at Peter and the other apostles in today’s reading: “We must obey God rather than men.” At some level the apostles know what’s coming for them—at the end of this scene, a few lines after today’s reading, they all take a beating, and it’s just a few days/chapters until the martyrdom of Stephen. And yet they stand their ground, profess their faith, accept the consequences.
Is this the same Peter who denied Jesus three times at a crucial moment in Jesus’ torment? Are these the same apostles who abandoned Jesus at the time of his betrayal, the same who ran and hid after the crucifixion? What happened to these guys?
The Holy Spirit happened. Eleven centuries later in the Christian story, theologians will argue that grace builds on nature—that God can do whatever He wants, but tends to start with the right raw material. That seems to be less the case here in Acts, where men who have shown no great propensity toward courage—or, indeed, eloquence in the face of persecution—are utterly transformed. Weak men, timid men, simple men; and yet they become strong and prophetic and eloquent through the reception of the Holy Spirit.
Perhaps that can be a good reminder to all of us in this Easter season when we get discouraged by the myriad ways in which we fall short of what God wants, even of what we want for ourselves. Yes, God works with us in the ways that best suit us each…but that doesn’t mean a more profound transformation isn’t part of the playbook, that we can’t believe the impossible if our faith is in the God of Surprises.
