The Memorial of Saint Anselm
"You stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit! As your fathers did, so you do. Which of the prophets didn't your fathers persecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, of whom you have now become betrayers and murderers. You received the law as it was ordained by angels, and didn't keep it!"
Now when they heard these things, they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed at him with their teeth. But he, being full of the Holy Spirit, looked up steadfastly into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God. And said, "Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!"
But they cried out with a loud voice and stopped their ears, then rushed at him with one accord. They threw him out of the city and stoned him. The witnesses placed their garments at the feet of a young man named Saul. They stoned Stephen as he called out, saying, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!" He kneeled down and cried with a loud voice, "Lord, don't hold this sin against them!" When he had said this, he fell asleep.
Saul was consenting to his death. A great persecution arose against the assembly which was in Jerusalem in that day. They were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria, except for the apostles.
For you are my rock and my fortress, Therefore for your name's sake lead me and guide me. Pluck me out of the net that they have laid secretly for me, For you are my stronghold.
For you are my rock and my fortress, Therefore for your name's sake lead me and guide me.
They said therefore to him, "What then do you do for a sign, that we may see and believe you? What work do you do? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness. As it is written, 'He gave them bread out of heaven to eat.'"
Jesus therefore said to them, "Most certainly, I tell you, it wasn't Moses who gave you the bread out of heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread out of heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down out of heaven and gives life to the world."
They said therefore to him, "Lord, always give us this bread."
Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will not be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
Saint Anselm, the brilliant eleventh-century archbishop, gave us the famous phrase "faith seeking understanding"—the idea that belief and reason work together rather than against each other. His feast day brings us face to face with Stephen's martyrdom and Jesus declaring himself the bread of life.
Notice the stark contrast in responses we encounter here. Stephen, filled with the Holy Spirit, sees heaven opened and responds to his attackers with forgiveness. Meanwhile, the crowd literally covers their ears and rushes toward violence. The same truth that opens Stephen's vision drives others to close themselves off entirely.
This dynamic plays out in our own lives more often than we might realize. When confronted with challenging truths—about our relationships, our choices, our need for change—we face the same choice. We can lean into the discomfort and let it transform us, or we can cover our ears and rush away from what makes us uncomfortable.
Jesus offers himself as the bread of life to people who keep asking for signs, who want proof before they'll believe. There's something deeply human in this exchange. We often want guarantees before we trust, evidence before we step forward. Yet Jesus doesn't offer more miracles; he offers himself.
Consider how this unfolds in ordinary moments. When a colleague challenges our assumptions, when a family member points out our blind spots, when life circumstances force us to reconsider our priorities—these become opportunities to choose Stephen's openness or the crowd's resistance.
The bread of life isn't just about Sunday Mass; it's about letting Christ nourish us through every encounter that calls us beyond our comfort zones.
When have we found ourselves covering our ears to uncomfortable truths? How might we cultivate Stephen's vision in the midst of our daily conflicts and challenges?