The First Martyrs of the Holy Roman Church
Hear this word that the Lord has spoken against you, children of Israel, against the whole family which I brought up out of the land of Egypt, saying: "I have only chosen you of all the families of the earth. Therefore I will punish you for all of your sins." Do two walk together, Unless they have agreed? Will a lion roar in the thicket, When he has no prey? Does a young lion cry out of his den, If he has caught nothing? Can a bird fall in a trap on the earth, Where no snare is set for him? Does a snare spring up from the ground, When there is nothing to catch? Does the trumpet alarm sound in a city, Without the people being afraid? Does evil happen to a city, And the Lord hasn't done it? Surely the Lord God will do nothing, Unless he reveals his secret to his servants the prophets. The lion has roared. Who will not fear? The Lord God has spoken. Who can but prophesy?
"I have overthrown some of you, As when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah, And you were like a burning stick plucked out of the fire; Yet you haven't returned to me," says the Lord. "Therefore I will do this to you, Israel; Because I will do this to you, Prepare to meet your God, Israel.
The arrogant will not stand in your sight. You hate all workers of iniquity. You will destroy those who speak lies. The Lord abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man.
But as for me, in the abundance of your loving kindness I will come into your house. I will bow toward your holy temple in reverence of you.
Lead me, Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies. Make your way straight before my face.
When he got into a boat, his disciples followed him. Behold, a violent storm came up on the sea, so much that the boat was covered with the waves; but he was asleep. The disciples came to him and woke him up, saying, "Save us, Lord! We are dying!"
He said to them, "Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?" Then he got up, rebuked the wind and the sea, and there was a great calm.
The men marveled, saying, "What kind of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"
We remember today the First Martyrs of the Holy Roman Church — those unnamed Christians who were tortured and killed under Nero in 64 AD, scapegoated for the great fire of Rome, dying for a faith they had barely had time to understand. They matter because they remind us that following Christ has never been a comfortable arrangement.
And that's exactly what these readings press on.
Amos pulls no punches. The Lord says, essentially: *because* you are chosen, because you are known and loved, the stakes are higher. There's an uncomfortable logic here that cuts against how we tend to think about being favored. We imagine that closeness to God means protection from difficulty. Amos says the opposite — closeness means accountability, and accountability sometimes looks like consequence.
Then the disciples are in a boat, waves crashing over the sides, and Jesus is *asleep*. Notice how the disciples don't doubt his power — they wake him up, which means somewhere they believe he can do something. What they lack is trust that his presence is enough even when he seems absent, even when the storm is real and the water is rising.
The movement in that Gospel is from panic to stillness — not because the circumstances changed first, but because they turned toward him. The calm came *after* they cried out.
The First Martyrs had no guarantee of rescue. The disciples got one. What both share is the raw, honest act of turning toward God when things are genuinely frightening. Not performing peace, but seeking it.
That's available on an ordinary Tuesday. In a hard conversation, a medical waiting room, a relationship that feels like open water.
Some questions to sit with today:
Where are we expecting God's closeness to exempt us from difficulty, rather than accompany us through it? When the storm feels loudest, what does it look like for us to actually turn toward Christ rather than just around him? And what might it mean to trust that his presence in the boat is already enough?