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Blessed are those…
Today is the Feast of St. Thomas the Apostles. The readings include the well known account from John 20:24-29 when Thomas, in response to the testimony of the other apostles, says: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” And from that episode these days he is “Doubting Thomas.” The story of Thomas’ initial refusal to believe is, of course, as old as the Gospel of John itself from the late first century. But the nickname “Doubting Thomas” and the idiomatic expression developed much later.
The Church Fathers were much more interested in what Thomas became than in his moment of hesitation. For example, John Chrysostom emphasizes Thomas’s confession, “My Lord and my God.” Augustine says that Thomas “saw one thing and believed another” i.e, he saw Christ’s humanity but confessed his divinity. Gregory the Great wrote: “The disbelief of Thomas has done more for our faith than the faith of the believing disciples” because Thomas’s careful examination became stronger evidence for later believers. None of them reduce Thomas to a permanent label. For them, the climax of the story is not doubt. It is faith.
In the Middle Ages the episode became enormously popular in art, drama, and preaching. It was usually called “The Incredulity of Thomas” (Incredulitas Thomae). This remained the standard title for centuries. The expression “a doubting Thomas” as a common English idiom appeared in the late nineteenth century, with the earliest documented English usage around 1883.
Ironically, the nickname misses John’s point; he is not primarily interested in Thomas’s doubt. The story ends with one of the highest Christological confessions in the New Testament: “My Lord and my God!” (Jn 20:28). Thomas’s story occupies only six verses (20:24–29), while Christian tradition remembers him for a single week of unbelief rather than, according to ancient tradition, decades of faithful missionary work culminating in martyrdom in India.
So, is there a more appropriate moniker? When the apostles tell Thomas that they have seen the Lord (v.25) the Greek is: Heōrakamen ton Kyrion. The verb heōrakamen is in the perfect tense and so does not simply mean “we saw him.” The perfect tense is an ongoing, continuing experience which is best understood as “We have seen him, and that experience continues to shape us.” The apostles are giving testimony.
Thomas’ reply is equally important: “Unless I see… unless I put my finger… unless I put my hand… I will not believe.” The last phrase is literally, “I certainly will not believe.” He does not say: “Jesus cannot have risen.” Nor does he argue that resurrection is impossible. Rather, he is saying: “I will not believe your testimony unless I myself experience what you experienced.”
This becomes even more interesting in the broader context of John’s Gospel. One of John’s major themes is witness (martyria). John the Baptist bears witness. The Scriptures bear witness. The works of Jesus bear witness. The Father bears witness. The Beloved Disciple bears witness. Eventually, the apostles bear witness. Thomas represents the first Christian who is asked to believe through the testimony of others. That sounds remarkably familiar. Because that is precisely the position every Christian after the apostolic generation occupies.
Is Thomas doubting the Resurrection? In one sense, yes. He has not yet come to believe Jesus has risen. But in another sense, the immediate object of his doubt is: Can I trust the testimony of these men? Remember the circumstances. Only a few days earlier these same Apostles had all fled, they were hiding behind locked doors, they were frightened, confused, and emotionally devastated. Now they suddenly claim: “We have seen the Lord.”
Thomas has to wonder if this is wishful thinking, group delusion or something else. What Thomas essentially says is “That is an extraordinary claim. I need more than your word.”
In the gospel account from this point the structure of the story provides that Jesus appears and invites Thomas to touch his wounds, but without touching Jesus, Thomas responds: “My Lord and my God!”
Then Jesus says “Blessed are those who have touched.” … wait, no He does not say that. He says: “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” Jesus is contrasting those who have seen with those who believe without seeing. That final beatitude is addressed directly to later Christians who must rely upon apostolic testimony.
I think St. John intended a gentle irony. At the beginning of the story, Thomas refuses to trust the testimony of the apostles. By the end of the Gospel, the Church will ask every generation to trust the testimony of Thomas himself. Thomas becomes the witness he initially hesitated to trust.
Doubting Thomas? He was struggling to trust the witness of the very people who claimed to have encountered the risen Lord. In that sense, Thomas is the first person asked to believe because of apostolic testimony. And that is exactly where we stand. None of us has physically seen the risen Christ. We believe because the apostles saw him, were transformed by him, and handed on their witness through the Church.
That leads naturally into the first reading from Letter to the Ephesians: “You are… built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.” (Eph 2:20)
The pairing of the readings is elegant. Thomas is not only the apostle who comes to faith; he is one of the apostles upon whose witness the Church is built. The Gospel traces his journey from demanding proof to becoming a trustworthy witness himself, while Ephesians reminds us that our own faith rests upon that apostolic foundation. That is a fitting message for the Feast of St. Thomas: we honor not merely a man who overcame doubt, but an apostle whose testimony continues to support the faith of the Church.
Image credit: The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio (Michelangelo Merisi), c. 1602 | Public Domain
Jesus’ Invitation
28 “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for your selves. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
The last three verses of the chapter contain many echoes of the invitation of Jesus Ben Sira (Sir 51:23–27; cf. also Sir 6:24–31) for men to come and learn from him and take up wisdom’s yoke, so that they may find rest. No doubt Jesus and his hearers knew and valued this book, but Jesus’ invitation reveals a higher authority: it is his own yoke that he offers, and he himself gives the rest which Ben Sira had to win by his ‘little labors’.
The word labor (kopiao) is translated literally. But there is also a figurative sense beyond “to be engaged in hard work, implying difficulties and trouble.” The figurative sense means “to become emotionally fatigued and discouraged,” e.g., “to give up, to lose heart” [EDNT 2:307]. We hear that in other places when the same word (kopiao) is translated as “weary” – Come to me, all you who are weary. The invitation to rest is not just for the physically tired but also those whose emotional energies are spent.
In its own way the invitation to rest in these verses spell out that this is the result of the unique relationship of the Father and the Son. Just as only God knows Wisdom (Wis 8:4; 9:1-18), so only the Father knows the Son. Just as only Wisdom makes known the divine mysteries (Wis 9:1-18, 10:10), so Jesus is the revealer of God’s hidden truths. As the personified divine Wisdom calls people to take up her yoke and find rest (Sir 51:23-30; Prov 1:20-23; 8:1-36), so Jesus extends the same invitation. For Matthew, Jesus is not the messenger of Wisdom, but is identified with the heavenly Wisdom of God; he speaks not only for Wisdom, but as the divine Wisdom.
The yoke was sometimes in the Old Testament a symbol of oppression (Isa. 9:4; 58:6; Jer. 27–28), but was also used in a good sense of the service of God (Jer. 2:20; Lam. 3:27). Later it came to be used commonly in Jewish writings for obedience to the law—the ‘yoke of the law’ is one every Jew should be proud to carry. Such a yoke should not be oppressive, for after all the function of a yoke (the sort worn by humans) is to make a burden easier to carry. But through the seemingly arbitrary demands of Pharisaic legalism and the uncertainties of ever-proliferating rabbinic case law the law had itself become a burden, and a new yoke was needed to lighten the load. Jesus’ yoke is easy (chrēstos normally means ‘good’, ‘kind’ – and perhaps in a play on words chrestos is only one letter different from christos = “Christ”), not because it makes lighter demands, but because it represents entering into a disciple-relationship (learn from me) with one who is meek and humble of heart (cf. 2 Cor 10:1). The words echo the description of God’s servant in Isaiah 42:2–3; 53:1–2, and especially the words of Zechariah 9:9 which Matthew will pick up again at 21:4–5. It is also the character Jesus expects, and creates, in his disciples (5:3ff.)
You will find rest for your selves is an echo of the Hebrew text of Jeremiah 6:16 (lxx), where it is the offer of God to those who follow his way; Jesus now issues the invitation in his own name!
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Jesus’ Declaration
27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.
It is important to note that Jesus is not depicted as a religious genius who has discovered the divine mysteries. Simply put, Jesus is the beloved Son who is on intimate terms with the Father. It is the divine initiative of the Father who has given all things (v.27) to the Son. This is not a message or a relationship that Matthew suddenly thrusts upon us as an assertion on the part of Jesus. Matthew’s narrative has prepared the reader by means of preceding declarations about Jesus.
- Immanuel, the Son miraculously born to Mary, signifies the unique saving presence of God with his people (1:23).
- Matthew’s narrative of Jesus’ baptism mentions the pleasure the Father takes in the Son in words echoing Isaiah 42:1 (3:17; cf. 17:5).
- Satan was unable to shake the Son from his resolve not to test the Father (4:1–11).
- Jesus did miracles to show that the Father had given the Son of Man authority to forgive sins on the earth (9:6).
- In times of persecution, the disciples must confess the Son if they wish the Son to confess them to the Father (10:32–33, 40).
But one would be hard pressed to speak of the Son in terms more exalted than those used in 11:27, which uncompromisingly yet elegantly says that saving knowledge of God the Father comes only through the selective revelation of Jesus, the exclusive mediator of salvation.
The exclusive communion between Father and Son is of the essence of their relationship. For anyone else to share in this knowledge, however, is a matter of revelation, and as such is not a natural right, but a matter of divine choice. Thus God’s sovereign initiative in revelation, set out in vv. 25–26, is applied specifically to our knowledge of God: it does not come naturally (see 1 Cor. 2:6–16 for a spelling out of this theme). It depends on God’s choice, or, more specifically, the Son’s choice. Thus Jesus unequivocally describes himself and his will as the key to humanity’s approach to the Father; there is no other.
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Comfort, Confirm or Change
Today’s readings for Mass continue the odd pairing: Amos and Matthew. Amos the fiery prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel during a time of prosperity for the elite, but not so much for the poor who did not participate in the prosperity and at the same time faced corrupt courts and dishonest business practices. At same time Amos is also critical of the empty religious observance: “I hate, I spurn your feasts… Let justice surge like water, and righteousness like an unfailing stream.” Meanwhile, Matthew continues his mission account: Jesus casting demons out of two possessed men, with the demons entering a herd of swine. One is about worship and justice; the other is an exorcism. Yet both readings ask the same penetrating question: What happens when the living God actually comes among us? Not surprisingly, the answer is that God’s presence always demands a decision.
Amos is preaching to people who are quite religious. They attend festivals, offer sacrifices, sing hymns, and keep the festivals as required by the Law. The problem is not that they have abandoned worship. The problem is that worship has become disconnected from life. Through the prophet Amos God says: “I hate, I spurn your feasts… I will not accept them.” God is rejecting worship that is externally correct but internally false because the same people who praise God in the Temple exploit the poor in the marketplace. That is why Amos concludes with perhaps his most famous words: “Let justice surge like water, and righteousness like an unfailing stream.” (Am 5:24). God desires worship that transforms the worshiper.
In the Gospel, Jesus arrives in Gentile territory. Immediately, the demons recognize him. The people are not so quick on the uptake. The demons cry out: “What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the appointed time?” (Mt 8:29) Notice the contrast. The demons cannot pretend Jesus is simply another traveling rabbi. His presence forces a confrontation. Something has to change.
After witnessing an extraordinary liberation, the restoration of two men who had been living among the tombs, the townspeople do not rejoice. As Matthew tells us: “The whole town came out to meet Jesus, and when they saw him they begged him to leave their district.” (v.34) Why? Matthew does not explicitly tell us. Perhaps they feared Jesus’ power. Perhaps they were upset over the economic loss of the swine. Perhaps they simply preferred the familiar to the disruptive presence of God. Whatever the reason, they choose comfort over conversion.
That is precisely Amos’ accusation. Israel wanted religion without transformation. The townspeople wanted life restored to normal without the unsettling presence of Jesus. In both readings, God’s presence exposes what people truly value. Amos asks: Do you love justice more than ritual? Matthew asks: Do you desire Christ more than comfort?
Both readings reject a faith that remains comfortable and unchanged: God is not satisfied with shallow religion. You cannot worship God while ignoring justice. You cannot encounter Jesus without making a choice. Neither reading presents God as simply making people feel comfortable. Instead, God disrupts, reveals, challenges and calls. This is often how grace works.
Which is more frightening? Two violent demoniacs living among the tombs or the possibility that Jesus might actually change my life? The townspeople apparently preferred the first. At least they knew how to live with it. The presence of Jesus meant everything might change.
Sometimes we are not so different.
The living God does not come merely to comfort us or to confirm us in our present way of life. He comes to reclaim us. And every encounter with him asks us to decide whether we will welcome that transformation or ask him, politely, to leave us alone.
Image credit: cropped image of Baie 102 of Église de la Madeleine (Verneuil-sur-Avre) | PD-US
An Opening Prayer
25 At that time Jesus said in reply, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.
These words are not a prayer of praise for the ignorant, as elsewhere Matthew regards wisdom and understanding as positive attributes of the disciples themselves (7:24-27; 13:51;23:34; 25:1-13). Rather Matthew affirms that those who recognize Jesus do not do so on the basis of superior religious status or individual intelligence, but by revelation, as the gift of God to those who are open and unpretentious. The childlike have no real basis for claiming knowledge of God, yet they are the very ones to whom the divine revelation is given as a gift of the Father’s gracious will (v.26).
In the larger context of Matthew’s narrative, one should not fail to grasp that even in the ongoing revelation of God taking place in their midst, there are still those who fail to understand/accept. John the Baptist, who had baptized Jesus, knew his own unworthiness, and had heard the heavenly voice did not understand. There were those whose predetermined criteria (cf. 11:16-19) did not accept the revelation. Towns where Jesus had given a testimony of words and actions did not accept the revelation. Nor did the scholars and the wise, who could explain much, but could not explain the revelation in their midst (11:25a). There is a reversal unfolding.
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Meeting God in the Disruptions
Today’s readings for Mass are an odd pair: Amos and Matthew. The first reading from the Book of Amos is a prophetic oracle of judgment. Amos speaks in stark images of roaring lions, traps, trumpets, and disasters before concluding, “Prepare to meet your God.” The Gospel from Gospel of Matthew tells the familiar story of Jesus calming the storm at sea. One sounds like doom and the end of the world; the other is a miracle story of rescue. Yet, in their own way each asks how we respond when God disrupts our sense of security?
Amos is speaking to the prosperous Northern Kingdom of Israel during a time of relative peace and economic success. The people assume that God is with them because life is good, so everything must be fine. The prophet offers a different vision. He describes a series of seemingly inevitable events. If the lion roars, that means it has prey in sight. If the city guards sound the trumpet warning, people’s natural response is to be frightened. Amos is pointing out cause and effect. Then comes the key verse: “Indeed, the Lord GOD does nothing without revealing his plan to his servants, the prophets.” (Am 3:7, NAB)
Historically, Amos preached during the reign of Jeroboam II (about 760–750 BC). It was one of Israel’s most prosperous periods. Economically trade flourished, borders expanded, and wealth increased. Spiritually and socially, however, Amos saw something very different: exploitation of the poor, corrupt courts, dishonest business practices, luxurious living by the wealthy, empty religious observance, over confidence that because Israel was God’s chosen people, disaster could never happen.
Our reading omits Amos 4:6-10, which explains the disasters: drought, failed harvests, some military defeats and more. The disasters Israel is experiencing were not random. They are prophetic wake-up calls. God has been speaking, but the people have refused to listen. There is a heartbreaking refrain that punctuates each disaster: “Yet you did not return to me.” Again and again God allowed hardship, not out of cruelty, but to call his people back. Yet they remained unmoved. Thus Amos concludes: “Prepare to meet your God.” That is not merely a threat. It is an invitation to conversion before it is too late.
“Too late” happened in In 722/721 BC, the Neo-Assyrian Empire conquered the Northern Kingdom. The capital was razed, many inhabitants were deported, and the kingdom ceased to exist.
Amos portrays a God who warns repeatedly before judgment falls. Judgment is not God’s first word. His first word is always an invitation to return. In that sense, Amos is remarkably consistent with the Gospel. God is patient, persistent, and merciful but he also takes human freedom seriously. If people continually refuse every invitation to conversion, there are real consequences. That makes Amos less a prophet of doom than a prophet of urgent hope: it is not too late to return but the time to return is now.
The Gospel is a different kind of wake-up call. The disciples also experience something that shatters their security. A violent storm threatens the boat but unlike Israel in Amos the disciples do exactly the right thing. They cry out: “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” (Mt 8:25). They do this with imperfect faith: “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith? (v.26). Nonetheless, they turn toward Christ. Israel ignored God’s warnings. The disciples run to Jesus.
Amos describes people who are spiritually asleep during good times. The disciples discover their weakness during bad times. Both groups encounter God through disruption but they respond differently.
Most of us don’t like interruptions and disruptions. We prefer stability, predictability and control. Yet throughout Scripture, God often speaks through interruptions. For Israel it was drought, famine, and military threats. For the disciples it was a storm. Today, our “interruptions” include illness, unemployment, family struggles, disappointment, and unexpected changes. The question we face is not whether disruptions come. The question is will the disruptions drive us away from God, or toward him?
There is one subtle connection between the readings. In Amos, God asks Israel to prepare to meet him. In the Gospel, the disciples discover that God is already in the boat with them. The God whom Amos tells Israel to prepare to meet is the same God who has entered the storm with his disciples in the person of Jesus.
We do indeed prepare to meet God. Not because he is distant, but because in Christ he has already come to meet us. The storms of life become not simply tests of endurance but opportunities to discover that the Lord is nearer than we realized. Jesus is already in the boat…so, stay in the boat.
Image credit: ChatGPT / Dalle-3, June 29, 2026 from prompt: “Please prepare a 1200×675 px image appropriate to the daily mass readings: Amos 3:1-8; 4:11-12 and Matthew 8:23-27.”
Opposition to Jesus
The Sunday to come is the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The transition of Sunday gospels from the 13th to the 14th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) passes over Matthew 11:1-24 which can be aptly described as the warnings of Matthew 10 coming true. (Note: these verses are read on the 3rd Sunday of Advent) There will indeed be opposition within and from the people of Israel. There have been all manner of opposition alluded to in Matthew’s narrative, e.g., Herod, the devil in the wilderness temptation, persecutions mentioned in the Sermon on the Mount, scribal accusations after healing on the Sabbath, Pharisees condemning Jesus because he ate with sinners and tax collectors, and more. As this chapter unfolds, clear lines of demarcation will be evident between doubt and unbelief on one side and belief on the other.
The verses passed on between Sunday gospels are focused on doubt and unbelief (11:2–19; 11:20–24). Our gospel passage focuses on belief (11:25–30).
Opposition to Jesus is described in two sections. The encounters with doubt and unbelief are not limited to Jewish people unduly swayed by an unbelieving religious leadership (woe to the towns of Chorazin and Bethsiada in v.21; Capernaum in v.23). The doubts are also among those who perhaps know Jesus well. One very “close to home.”
Mt 11:2-19 recounts the scene in which disciples of John the Baptist come to Jesus and ask: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” John’s arrest was mentioned in 4:12, yet the full story of his imprisonment will wait until 14:3–12.
John, as his question seems to show, was perhaps having second thoughts about Jesus’ true identity. His hesitation was probably due (as v. 6 suggests referring to taking offense) to a discrepancy between his expectations for ‘the coming one’ and what he actually heard about Jesus. The ministry so far recorded does not match up with the expectations of 3:11–12, and the miracles which are its most obvious feature were not a part of the common Messianic expectation. John may also have found it difficult to accept a Jewish ‘Messiah’ who failed to fast as his own followers did (9:14 ff.), and who kept the sort of company which a careful Jew would avoid (9:9 ff.). It is perhaps that Matthew is using this pericope as a way to note a degree of opposition from within the people of Israel.
What all share in common is that each of them have been witnesses to the words and actions of Jesus which point to the kingdom of heaven. Nonetheless, the Kingdom was being attacked by people who obstinately refused its authority (11:12, 16–24). Why? Perhaps they considered themselves wise in their own eyes and rejected Jesus’ revelation. There are more passages as Matthew’s narrative unfolds: unbelief and doubt(12:1–21; 22–50) and belief passages (12:2, 10, 24; 18:6; 25:45).
John the Baptist and his followers may have doubts. Major towns of Galilee may have rejected Jesus’ message of the Kingdom of Heaven, but despite the rejection in vv.20-24, some people accept Jesus’ mission and message – and it is for this that he gives praise to God. In context these words are not a prayer of thanksgiving for a successful mission (cf. Lk 10:21-22), but are a prayerful reflection on the failure of the Galilean mission. The prayers highlight another Matthean theme: reversal. Those who are considered wise and learned are in fact not – at least in the things of the kingdom of heaven. Yet those who are childlike have understood and accepted the revelation of the kingdom in the person of Jesus.
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Finishing the Race
“I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith” (2 Tm 4:7) So wrote St. Paul in his letter to Timothy. Eric Liddle understood that. He was China-born in 1902, the son of Scot Presbyterian missionaries, who, as was the custom, sent Eric and his sister Jennie back to Scotland for their education and formation for mission in China. Eric was an excellent student and an even better athlete. He represented Scotland in rugby, cricket, and track. Eric’s sister Jennie worried he was too busy in athletics and was losing focus, being carried away by the glory and achievements of the sports fields and was losing attention and concern for their family mission in China. Eric told her: “I believe that God made me for a purpose… (the mission), but He also made me fast, and when I run, I feel His pleasure.” Fast he was. Eric Liddle was the 400 m gold medalist in the 1924 Olympic games in Paris.
“God made me for a purpose.” After the games, Eric returned to China where he served the Christian missions for 20 years. In 1937 the Japanese invaded China and soon Eric, his wife and children were interned in a prison camp. During the war there was a formal exchange of prisoners between Japan and Britain. Because of his fame, Eric and his family were on the list. His wife and family were sent to Canada, but God has made Eric for a purpose. He gave up his place to a pregnant woman and stayed behind as a prisoner of war. He died just before the end of the war in 1945. Eric Liddle competed well, finished the race and kept the faith. God made him for a purpose.
The early Church learned very quickly that following Jesus did not exempt them from ridicule, dismissal or harm. Living a Christian Life gave no protection against earthly adversity. With the memory of Resurrection, Ascension and Pentecost still fresh, the Apostles were called before the Sanhedrin, then James was beheaded. Peter, their leader, was jailed.
Peter was made for a purpose. A fisherman handed the keys to the kingdom of God. From that heady moment, Peter went on to deny our Lord. Only later, by the shore of the Galilee to be restored in love by the risen Christ. Peter continued the race. The Angel of the Lord freed Peter from Prison – and left him alone in the dark alley behind the jail – the race wasn’t over .. Peter continued to keep the faith. Peter was made for a purpose – witness and missionary…. and fisherman. Peter competed well, finished the race and kept the faith.
Paul was made for a purpose. A Pharisee trained to defend his Jewish traditions; commissioned to arrest the renegade Christians and bring them back in chains. Saul the Destroyer converted to Paul the Apostle in the aftermath of the Damascus road incident. Paul was made for a purpose – Apostles to the Gentiles.
Paul competed well, but not always successfully. Along with his band of disciples, Paul endured much affliction: driven out of towns; capsized in the Mediterranean Sea; robbed and beaten by highway marauders; thrashed by local governments; imprisoned and threatened with death. Still, he planted churches across the eastern Mediterranean and Rome beckoned. Paul explained the gospel that Peter proclaimed. He explained and taught the implications of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul was made for a purpose – teacher and missionary … and tent maker. Paul competed well, finished the race and kept the faith.
What about you and I…. we are still in the race. Have we competed well so far? Have we kept the faith? The race is still on. There are days I share Jeannie Liddle’s concerns – are we too busy and distracted to keep our eye on the prize. We worry about the transient things, things that do not last. But we were made for a purpose – just like Eric Liddle, St Peter and St Paul. It is a purpose driven life; a gospel-driven life.
So… what race are you running? If it is a race that does not allow you to keep the faith at work, at school, at home…you are in the wrong race. If it is a race that imprisons your Christian faith. You are in the wrong race. If it is a race that silences your voice, chokes off your witness, and sells short your purpose. You are in the wrong race. You won’t finish.
Where do you spend your energy? What do you value? These are hints about the race you have entered. Tent maker, fisherman, teacher, preacher, home maker, office worker, student, and more – each called to mission.
What we celebrate this day in the lives of Sts. Peter and Paul – and all the saints of God – people like Eric Liddle – is that they found the purpose worth their energies. It is a purpose driven life; a gospel-driven life?
At the end of days, I hope that others will say of us “They competed well, finished the race and kept the faith.”
Amen.
Image credit: Icon from “Christ Between Saints Peter and Paul” | Pietro Lorenzetti, ca. 1320 | Ferens Art Gallery, Hull England \ PD-US
They made known the Good News
Today is the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul. Most of the apostles and lots of saints have their own feast day, but how about the two most famous saints of the early church? There is February 22nd in which the Church celebrates the “Chair of Peter” the sign that Peter was the first among the apostles and the one designated to lead the early Church after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. But there is no “Feast of St. Peter.”
St. Paul, although not one of the Twelve, was an Apostle commissioned by Jesus. There is the January 25th celebration of “The Conversion of St. Paul” which commemorates the Damascus Road episode described in Acts of the Apostles: 9:1-31, 22:1-22, and 26:9-24. It is the scene made famous by the “Conversion on the Way to Damascus” painting by Caravaggio. But there is no “Feast of St. Paul.”
The two leading saints of the early Church are celebrated together in the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul as they are the founders of the See of Rome, through their preaching, ministry and martyrdom there. This celebration is a liturgical feast in honor of the martyrdom in Rome of the apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul and is observed on June 29th – without declaring that to be the day of their deaths. St. Augustine of Hippo (late 4th century) says in his Sermon 295: “One day is assigned for the celebration of the martyrdom of the two apostles. But those two were one. Although their martyrdom occurred on different days, they were one.” Thus it is clear that the celebration is of ancient origin.
Clearly from the earliest days, the Church has recognized them jointly. As St. Augustine continued in his Sermon, “And so we celebrate this day made holy for us by the apostles’ blood. Let us embrace what they believed, their life, their labors, their sufferings, their preaching, and their confession of faith.” Saints Peter and Paul – each in their own unique way – made the choice, decided for Christ, and set out on mission to make the Good News known to the world. 2,000 years later we remember and honor them.
Icon from “Christ Between Saints Peter and Paul” | Pietro Lorenzetti, ca. 1320 | Ferens Art Gallery, Hull England | PD-US
Apostles Together
Most of the apostles and lots of saints have their own feast day, but how about the two most famous saints of the early church? There is February 22nd in which the Church celebrates the “Chair of Peter” the sign that Peter was the first among the apostles and the one designated to lead the early Church after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. But there is no “Feast of St. Peter.”
St. Paul, although not one of the Twelve, was an Apostle commissioned by Jesus. There is the January 25th celebration of “The Conversion of St. Paul” which commemorates the Damascus Road episode described in Acts of the Apostles: 9:1-31, 22:1-22, and 26:9-24. It is the scene made famous by the “Conversion on the Way to Damascus” painting by Caravaggio. But there is no “Feast of St. Paul.”
The two leading saints of the early Church are celebrated together in the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul as they are the founders of the See of Rome, through their preaching, ministry and martyrdom there. This celebration is a liturgical feast in honor of the martyrdom in Rome of the apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul and is observed on June 29th – without declaring that to be the day of their deaths. St. Augustine of Hippo (late 4th century) says in his Sermon 295: “One day is assigned for the celebration of the martyrdom of the two apostles. But those two were one. Although their martyrdom occurred on different days, they were one.” Thus it is clear that the celebration is of ancient origin.
Clearly from the earliest days, the Church has recognized them jointly. As St. Augustine continued in his Sermon, “And so we celebrate this day made holy for us by the apostles’ blood. Let us embrace what they believed, their life, their labors, their sufferings, their preaching, and their confession of faith.” Saints Peter and Paul – each in their own unique way – made the choice, decided for Christ, and set out on mission to make the Good News known to the world. 2,000 years later we remember and honor them.
Most of the apostles and lots of saints have their own feast day, but how about the two most famous saints of the early church? There is February 22nd in which the Church celebrates the “Chair of Peter” the sign that Peter was the first among the apostles and the one designated to lead the early Church after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension. But there is no “Feast of St. Peter.”
St. Paul, although not one of the Twelve, was an Apostle commissioned by Jesus. There is the January 25th celebration of “The Conversion of St. Paul” which commemorates the Damascus Road episode described in Acts of the Apostles: 9:1-31, 22:1-22, and 26:9-24. It is the scene made famous by the “Conversion on the Way to Damascus” painting by Caravaggio. But there is no “Feast of St. Paul.”
The two leading saints of the early Church are celebrated together in the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul as they are the founders of the See of Rome, through their preaching, ministry and martyrdom there. This celebration is a liturgical feast in honor of the martyrdom in Rome of the apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul and is observed on June 29th – without declaring that to be the day of their deaths. St. Augustine of Hippo (late 4th century) says in his Sermon 295: “One day is assigned for the celebration of the martyrdom of the two apostles. But those two were one. Although their martyrdom occurred on different days, they were one.” Thus it is clear that the celebration is of ancient origin.
Clearly from the earliest days, the Church has recognized them jointly. As St. Augustine continued in his Sermon, “And so we celebrate this day made holy for us by the apostles’ blood. Let us embrace what they believed, their life, their labors, their sufferings, their preaching, and their confession of faith.” Saints Peter and Paul – each in their own unique way – made the choice, decided for Christ, and set out on mission to make the Good News known to the world. 2,000 years later we remember and honor them.
Icon from “Christ Between Saints Peter and Paul” | Pietro Lorenzetti, ca. 1320 | Ferens Art Gallery, Hull England
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