Seventh Sunday of Easter: Public and Private

Today we consider our witness to Christ Jesus in its interior and exterior dimensions. Because we are creatures of soul and body, our Christian lives include both. Today’s Scripture readings offer examples of this.

The eleven apostles join with the Mother of God and several women in prayer as they await the coming of the Holy Spirit. At the conclusion of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus asks them to stay in Jerusalem until they should be “clothed with power from on high” (Lk 24:49). In a sense, they didn’t change their behavior from the moment Our Lord ascended into heaven, when an angel chided them for “standing there, looking at the sky” (Acts 1:11). Now they pray in place; only in a manner of speaking are they “looking at the sky”—looking to the sky for direction and care.

Here they are providing no public witness, perhaps for fear of being persecuted. “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered” (Mt 26:31; cf. Zec 13:7)—nowhere to be found. Is prayer a form of flight from the world, an escape from reality? Hardly: the upper room is the realest of worlds. Here, in their struggle with God, He works on them in ways they could never imagine, yet soon would know. We might consider the lives of cloistered monks and nuns not as the retreating of scared-y cats, but as the training of champions. Their witness of silence and prayer is a real form of action, as real as setting up tables at soup kitchens, educating our youth, constructing houses, or other such visible forms of service. If it were not for the prayers of our consecrated men and women—among whom I would include the infirm in our homes and hospitals—we would not be inspired to begin or continue our good works. Is this to say that some pray so that others may work? Not exactly; the life of ordinary disciples like us must include prayer and action, so long as we are able to do both. And when infirmity makes action difficult or impossible, our prayers and kindness to others covers much ground.

Saint Peter is making an important point when he invites people to rejoice in their suffering because it participates in the suffering of Jesus. As our Holy Father was visiting America several weeks ago, a number of comedians and commentators were mocking the Pope and Catholic teachings. Are we embarrassed when workmates, so-called friends, or others make fun of us for being Catholic? Criminals and private sinners often feel guilty for their deeds, and rightly so. If they do not, their consciences may be dulled. The experience of guilt ought to move us to true contrition and repentance, as it had moved Peter himself when he denied his Master. Guilt, therefore, was not his last word; the actual last words of today’s excerpt from his first letter were, “But if someone suffers as a Christian, let him not be shamed, but let him glorify God with this name.” Our experience of opposition or mockery of our beliefs suggests that we are actually attempting to live them in the public forum. God is glorified in our faithful witness to His Name when His truth becomes inconvenient.

Is there any place where we are not glorifying God or building up our brothers and sisters—our car, our bedroom or office, our desk at school, or TV room? Would an “on-the-spot interview” of us at any moment give people a bad impression of Jesus and the Catholic Church? You and I must examine ourselves on these matters frequently. What we do in private is certainly known to God, certainly appreciated by Him when it is virtuous; though nobody else may hear of it or suspect it, a self-serving action or word has tremendous effects on others. Contrarily, a self-giving action or word participates in the sacrificial self-offering of Jesus, filling the world with a beautiful fragrance of redeeming love. Jesus had the honesty to tell His Father that He glorified Him on earth by accomplishing the work He gave Him to do. There’s something for us to do, as well—something that can be beautiful, good, and unifying. Let’s get to prayer, and get to work!