In Eastertide, we often hear the Acts of the Apostles, that book of the New Testament which follows from the Gospels and gives us an account of the first years of the Christianity after the Ascension of Christ and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost up to St Paul’s arrival in Rome. How poor our knowledge of Christian beginnings would be without it! How grateful we can be that the Holy Spirit did not just inspire St Luke to write his beautiful Gospel, but to compose this sequel too, so full of stories and personalities, so full of the Holy Spirit and the risen Christ. He does it so well. He’s such an artist. In the Gospel, Jesus journeys from Galilee to Jerusalem – the backbone of the story. In Acts, the Gospel message, thanks to Peter and then Paul, travels from Jerusalem to Rome, the centre of the Gentile, pagan world, of the great Roman Empire. This is the first of the many journeys the Gospel has made over 2000 years: from the Mediterranean to Europe, to the East, to Africa,, to the Americas and Australasia and the Pacific.
The Acts of the Apostles has the air of springtime. The life of the Church unfolds and unfurls and is full of freshness and boldness. At the same time, as in springtime there are showers and storms, so the Church’s first years include dramas, disputes, adventures, shipwreck, imprisonment. So much we enjoy now we see burgeoning then: the order of the Church: there are apostles, elders, deacons, the seed of our bishops priests and deacons. There are the first signs of our sacraments: baptism is prominent, but in today’s reading, for example, we have two apostles completing baptism by a laying-on of hands with a coming of the Holy Spirit, a foretaste of our Confirmation. There’s even evidence of a Sunday Eucharist. At one such, St Paul preaches so long that a young man dozes off and falls out of the window! In the stoning of deacon Stephen, there’s the first of the white-robed army of martyrs which grows in every century (1,624 according to the Vatican between 2000 and 2025; some call that a low estimate). There’s the first Church Council in Jerusalem; how many have followed! There are the first encounters with the civil power, some positive, some negative; another story that runs on in every generation. Above all perhaps, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, there’s the growing realisation that Jesus is for everyone, Gentile and Jew. His is the one name by which we are saved. He is Lord.
And what does all this offer us? Perhaps something along these lines: that as Christians, we’re not single atoms; we’re not alone. We are members of a body, kept growing by the Holy Spirit. We are branches of a single Vine. We are part of a building, founded on Christ and the apostles. Christianity is a personal thing, certainly, but not a private one; it’s a social and public entity. It’s a people and a family. And we stick with it. To put ourselves outside the body, be it for a mythical past or an ideal future, is suicide, the sin of schism – which tragically goes on. And just as in a family, we both receive and give, so it is in the Church. We receive from the Lord, from Scripture and Tradition and all the pastoral efforts of the Church, but we serve in turn, we hand on, we contribute. We’re evangelised to evangelise in turn.
Ours is a fragmented society, atomised it’s often said, and for all the communication loneliness returns. The Church offers communion. Ours is a world often disconnected from the past, rootless, suffering from memory loss. But as Catholic Christians, we have deep roots to draw from. Our times have a deficit of hope, but we have a hope beyond time, to share Christ’s resurrection. We have sisters and brothers throughout the world and in heaven. “I will not leave you orphans.” It’s often said that the Acts of the Apostles doesn’t have a proper conclusion: there’s just a final glimpse of St Paul preaching freely in Rome, even though he’s kept under guard. It’s an open-ended ending. St Luke knew there’d be more history to tell, by new disciples in tandem with the Holy Spirit. Even if we feel we’re only a small footnote, or even just a comma or a question mark, we can by God’s grace be co-authors of the Book of Life. Even if I feel as tiny as a pixel, I’m part of an image, an icon, the Lord is painting. I’m useless, if you like, but I’m vital too. The Acts of the Apostles – so full of inspiration for us – is an overture, a prelude. It plays the opening notes. Let’s learn the music and play it on together for the glory of God and the salvation of the world.
Concretely, let us love one another.
