All those who sat in the Sanhedrin looked intently at him and saw that his face was like the face of an angel. “This is not what was meant.” That was what hit me when I listened to the reading from Acts at Mass on Monday morning. To anyone whose image of what is angelic has been formed by kitschy art and pop culture the thought of stoning someone with the face of an angel doesn’t make sense. Who would hurt a guy with the harmless face of a pale, overfed Rococo putto, right? I think the term “face of an angel” means something much more awesome. Scary in fact. (Not that I wouldn’t be scared if a Precious Moments angel appeared to me. But it wouldn’t be reverent fear. And yes, I seen quite a few Precious Moments angels that I wouldn’t mind dropping a stone on. I like cute as much as the next person...perhaps too much. I even own a SnowBaby. But SnowBabies don’t risk polluting or diluting one’s spiritual life.)

The crux here is that Stephen meant business. Christ’s business. God’s business. And something is lost when the picture that comes to mind is bug-eyed progeny of leprechauns and tooth fairies. Or Della Reese, for that matter.