December 26, 2025
Feast of St. Stephen Martyr
“It took my grandfather a long time to die, in fact it took him my whole life.” I wrote these words at 11 years old, shortly after my grandfather died. My entire life had been marked by his cancer and heart attacks. Among my earliest memories are visits to him in the hospital. This Christmas marks the 30th anniversary of his passing, and I can still recall how deeply his loss affected me.
I never felt like I had enough time with him, that I was “robbed” of the chance for my grandfather to see me grow up. Both 11 year old me and 41-year old me would give anything for one more day with him. Each visit to the duck pond, the San Francisco Zoo, and the sundial were superfluous gifts that I may never have received.
The day after Christmas, St. Stephen’s Day, was always one such sacred time. It was our special day with our grandparents after the chaotic (loud), giant Italian family dinner on Christmas night. At the time I did not recognize the significance of St. Stephen’s Day being “our day.”
St. Stephen is the first known martyr of the Church and it seems odd that the Church would immediately follow the beauty of Christmas with the violent, jarring recounting of one who was killed for believing in Christ. The infancy narrative with its cute animals and traveling kings is just the beginning of the story, and the stakes are very high.
For many years my own grief at losing my grandfather was interwoven with the excitement and joy of Christmas. The mingling of life and death gave me a taste of the Paschal Mystery. Since uncovering my childhood journal entry, I have pondered how Mary might have felt after giving birth to Jesus, knowing that His whole life would be a preparation for His death. Each day that Jesus walked, breathed and lived among us was a gift, the greatest gift.