The Crown of Christmas

Voice over by Angeline Chue Chue

Acts 6:8-10; 7:54-60; Psalm: 30; Mt 10:17-22

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, on this second day of the Christmas Octave, the Church does not linger at the manger but immediately directs our gaze to the Cross. In the blood of Stephen, the first martyr, the full meaning of Christmas is revealed. The wood of the crib and the wood of the Cross are made from the same tree, for the sweet Child of Bethlehem was born precisely for this: to conquer sin and death through the perfect gift of Himself, and to empower His followers to do the same.

The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles presents a stunning portrait of discipleship. Stephen, “filled with grace and power,” works great wonders and signs. When confronted by hostile authorities, his wisdom is more than human; it is the fulfillment of Christ’s promise in today’s Gospel: “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.” Stephen’s face becomes like that of an angel as the Spirit speaks through him. When his accusers drag him out to stone him, he gazes into heaven and sees “the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of the Father.” His final words are a perfect echo of his Lord’s from the Cross: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit… Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” In life, ministry, and death, Stephen is a living icon of Christ.

The joy of Christmas is not a shallow sentimentality that ignores the cost of discipleship. It is the profound joy of knowing that God so loved the world that He entered it, and that our union with Him is so real that we can share not only in His birth but also in His sacrificial love. As Pope Benedict XVI taught, “The Cross is the true tree of life.” Saint Stephen shows us that the peace of Christmas is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of a love so strong it can forgive its persecutors. His martyrdom is not a tragic postscript to Christmas, but its logical culmination—the first fruits of the Incarnation.

The Gospel of Matthew makes this connection explicit. Jesus warns His disciples that they will be handed over to courts, scourged, and hated “because of my name.” This is the reality of a world that often rejects the light. Yet, into this frightening forecast, He speaks a promise that would sustain Stephen and countless martyrs after him: “Whoever endures to the end will be saved.” This endurance is not a grim, teeth-clenched determination, but a hopeful perseverance powered by the Holy Spirit. It is the same Spirit that overshadowed Mary at the Annunciation, that rested on Jesus at His baptism, and that filled the apostles at Pentecost.

The comfort for us today is this: the same Holy Spirit given to Stephen is given to us in Baptism and Confirmation. We may not be called to red martyrdom, but we are all called to the white martyrdom of daily fidelity—of speaking the truth with love when it is easier to remain silent, of forgiving an injury when we want to hold a grudge, of living a counter-cultural life of purity and charity in a world that mocks such virtues. As Saint Augustine preached, “The martyrdom of the heart can be as meritorious as the martyrdom of the body.”

On this Feast of Saint Stephen, let us not be afraid of the cost of discipleship. Let us, like Stephen, fix our gaze on Jesus, who stands to welcome His faithful witnesses. Let us draw courage from the Christ who was born for us, and trust in the Spirit who will speak and act through us. For in the divine economy of grace, the manger, the Cross, and the martyr’s crown are all woven together in the one great mystery of a Love that saves the world. Amen.