That is such a frightening command: “Follow me.”  We know the path He chose is wrought with great sacrifice and suffering, culminating in excruciating, humiliating death.  What?!?  Follow you through all of that? 

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus reveals to Peter that he will also be crucified, and tells him, “Follow me” (John 21:15-19).  Through this charge to His Apostle, we are all told that the way to Heaven is through strife and pain; we are all essentially called to martyrdom, though few will be given such an honor.

The Feast of St. Cristobal Magallanes, martry, is celebrated today.  He was a priest in Mexico during the Cristero War (1926-1929), an advocate of peace wrongfully arrested after being accused of inciting rebellion.  He was then executed, like many other priests, religious, and the faithful during this time. 

In his homily, Father shared one of the stories he read on these Mexican martyrs, about one priest detained while en route to celebrate Mass in an adjacent village.  The soldier ordered to execute the priest refused to do so on account that the priest had given his First Communion.  The solider, then, was lined up next to the priest and they were shot together.  (I tried searching for this specific story on the internet, but there were several incidents of executioners who refused direct orders only to face death themselves!)

Yes, “Follow me” is quite a daunting request.  But He has already shown us that the everlasting Heaven awaiting us is worth the temporal agony.  Let us ask these Mexican martyrs, especially St. Cristobal Magallanes, to pray for us that if the opportunity were presented to bear witness to Him by enduring the split-second sting of an executioner’s bullet, that we be a good target and stand absolutely still.

For further reading on Mexican martyrs, check out this biography in our store by Ann Ball.  Bl. Miguel Pro’s story is interesting in that the young Jesuit priest used disguises to evade his persecutors.  It was also the first time a martyrdom was captured on camera, which along with many other photographs are contained in this book. 

When I hear the story of St. Matthias, I say, “What luck….”  And I say that with sincerity and sarcasm simultaneously.

Sincere because what an honor it would have been to be named one of the Twelve.  Sarcasm because to be chosen meant to suffer and die as Christ, for Christ.  Matthias, like all of the other Apostles (except for John), was martyred.

The vision I have of Matthias is as a benchwarmer, riding the pine while the all-star starting Twelve did their thing.  And in the fourth quarter, Judas scores one against his own team and then blows his guts all over the place, and so the remaining look to the bench.  Matthias and Joseph Barsabbas are the likely replacements.  And how do they decide who gets to go in?  Eeny, meeny, miny, moe (Acts 1:24-26, summarized obviously).

This notion of “casting lots” is interesting.  Drawing straws is essentially taking the decision out of the hands of men and putting it entirely in God, trusting that the result is of God’s influence and is consistent with His plan.

This led me to respond to one of our store’s supporters who wrote this post regarding what God has “burdened” us with–essentially, Allison is alluding to each of our callings on how we are to serve Him and merit Heaven.  He has given us each a unique set of talents and traits tailored to fulfilling that mission.  And what we lack, He will provide.  How we came to be the way we are may seem so arbitrary, the sum of random life experiences, the casting of lots–but we are taught by Matthias’ story that this is how we are personally selected by God, and that this had been planned for us all along.  Referring to Jeremiah in the Old Testament: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” (1:5).

I think it was Einstein who said, “Coincidences are God’s way of staying anonymous.”

Going back to that vision of Matthias.  He gets picked to get in the game.  He whips off his track suit and tightens his laces.  Does a couple of toe-touches.  He gets in the huddle.  The team captain Peter tells him, “Ok, Matthias.  Here is our game plan.  Listen carefully.  Preach the Good News of Jesus.  Lead by your example.  And then go die for Him.   Break!”

Father Damien and the Bells

When I was in the 6th grade, I did a report on Father Damien of Molokai. This was a number of years before he was beatified by JPII (in 1995) and, last year, canonized by Benedict XVI (kinda cool because I can say I knew of him before he was a Saint). I don’t remember much about the little details of his life–what I do remember are his fearlessness and self-sacrifice. Whenever the topic of giving one’s life for the Lord arises, Father Damien is always one of my leading examples as his death did not come as a result of violence.

Today’s Mass readings are quite apropos to the life of Father Damien. In the first reading (Acts 16:11-15), we see the missionaries of the early Church in the Roman colony of Philippi, where Paul finds himself preaching to some gathered women. They meet Lydia, a “seller of purple cloth,” whom the Lord opens the heart of to receive Paul’s message. After she and her family were baptized, she convinces the missionaries to stay in her home.

In the Gospel (John 15:26-27, 16:1-4), Jesus reveals to His Apostles that after He departs, He will send the Holy Spirit the Paraclete to remain with them. He tells them this to assure them in their faith, because the time will come when they will be persecuted and killed because of Him.

It is relevant to note in the first reading that Lydia was a woman and a seller of purple cloth; these details were important to St. Luke when he wrote this account. He is trying to show us that the Lord reaches out to the marginalized: that Lydia was a woman and she was not wealthy–she made her money by selling these cloths (purple, of course, being the color associated with royalty). After having her heart opened by the Lord, after being saved by baptism, she expressed her thanks by offering accommodations to the missionaries.

Tied in to the Gospel, these missionaries were evangelizing in a Roman colony and could potentially be arrested and killed for their actions. Of course, the presence of the Holy Spirit protected their passage and “opened the hearts” of people they met to accept their teachings and take them into their own homes.  Lydia’s gesture, then, was not just one of gratitude, but one that required courage and trust in the Holy Spirit she had just received, as her harboring of these Christian missionaries could have caused her and her family’s persecution by the Romans.

Father Damien knew of the imminent death by disease when he traveled to the leper colony on Molokai. Yet, filled with the Holy Spirit’s guidance and the promise of Heaven, he evangelized to these the most marginalized of all human beings. In order to become like Christ, Father Damien served and died like Christ–lowering himself to the level of those he wished to save and died a death just like theirs, for them, and for Him.

St. Damien, pray for us.