By Fr. George Dorbarakis
The Saint’s Hymnographer, John the Monk, refers to the whole sanctified course of Stephen’s life: to the fact that from the very moment he became a Christian he was “a man full of the Spirit and of power,” and to the fact that he was chosen by the people and ordained by the Apostles as their helper — both in the service of tables and in preaching; and also to the events of his arrest, his defense, his theoptic experience, and his grace-filled martyrdom.
What the Hymnographer especially highlights is the manner in which he departed this life: by stoning — a customary method among the Jews for those considered to have blasphemed their faith. And as an exquisite poet he does not remain only with what the senses observe — the throwing of stones — but also reveals the non-sensory dimension:
First, that the stones which the Jews hurled against him at that very moment became the steps of his ascent to the Kingdom of God (“steps and ladders for a heavenly ascent, the flurries of stones became for you; mounting them, you beheld the Lord standing at the right hand of the Father”), that is, the stones that fell upon you like snowflakes became steps and ladders for your ascent to heaven; ascending these steps you saw the Lord standing at the right hand of the Father.
Second, that these stones became Stephen’s adornment, as one adorns oneself with varied and beautiful flowers, and thus adorned he went before Christ the Giver of life (“as with varied and beautiful flowers, O Stephen, adorned with the stones, you offered yourself to Christ the life-giver”).
And beyond these, third, his stoning constitutes the crown placed upon him by his murderers, when he himself had “stoned” them with the snowflakes of his God-inspired words (“with the snowflakes of his God-bearing mouth the Protomartyr struck the defiled murderers; and by them, with countless flurries of stones, he was crowned as a victor”), that is: the Protomartyr struck his wretched murderers with the snowflakes of his God-bearing mouth; therefore he was crowned as a victor by them with the flurries of stones.
As the monk John focuses on the martyric end of Saint Stephen, it is impossible for him not to pause at the pinnacle of his martyrdom: the forgiveness of those who stoned him, the remission of their hostile actions against him. And his mind, of course, goes where all our minds go: to the crucified Lord, who on the Cross likewise forgives those who crucified Him. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” said the Lord; “Lord, do not hold this sin against them,” says Stephen. The same words, with slight variation; the same stance of life — the servant who follows precisely in the footsteps of his Lord.
“Having become a most excellent imitator, O Master Christ, of Your honorable Passion, Stephen defends himself against his murderers with blessing.”
“O blessed voice that you uttered, O Stephen! ‘Do not hold the ignorance of the murderers against them, O Master Christ," you cried, ‘but as God and Creator, receive my spirit as a most fragrant offering.’”
And it is self-evident that Saint Stephen’s stance — to stand with love even toward one’s enemies — is not a choice belonging to him alone, as a kind of exception. It constitutes the commandment of the Lord, according to His words and His very life, and it concerns all of us. If we do not forgive from the heart all those who harm and wrong us, even if it seems that we are right in a thousand ways, we cannot belong to Christ. The proof that we are His, that He dwells within us, that He will receive us joyfully into His Kingdom, blessing our presence there, is our boundless love toward all and the forgiveness of the sins of our fellow human beings. Without this forbearance — which is put into action, of course, by the power of the Lord Himself — we do not behold the face of God, and worse still: we find ourselves under the dominion of the wicked devil.
May the end of our life, that is, potentially every moment, find us in this forgiveness. It means that the Spirit of God will accompany us eternally.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.