Saint Bartholomew, Apostle

"Saint Bartholomew" by Daniel Mitsui

Poor Bartholomew. I mean, here it is, the day that the church remembers his life, death and witness and he's not even named. Instead, we get a story about some dude named "Nathanael."

 The other three Gospels list Bartholomew as one of the 12 disciples of Christ, but in the Gospel of John, where the others have “Bartholomew”, John puts “Nathanael.” Many scholars, plus Martin Luther, and long church tradition take this to mean that it’s the same person. It’s thought that Nathanael was his first name, and his last name was Bar Tholomew meaning “Son of Tolomai.” Like Peter is sometimes called “Simon Bar Jonah”—Simon, son of John. Like today, people are called “Johnson” or “Olson.” Nonetheless, it is sort of sad that the guy's name isn’t even really known.

In the absence of concrete facts, we have only old church stories.  Like how St. Bartholomew is reported to have been skinned alive in modern-day Armenia for refusing to give up his faith in Jesus. Notice the big knives printed in your bulletin. Bartholomew is almost always represented in art as flayed—skinned-- wearing his skin draped around him, or holding it up in one hand with a knife in the other.

That’s a fascinating and yet horrifying detail: a Christian man lost his life by being skinned alive and he is forever portrayed in Christian art, holding his skin as if it is a trophy. Which in a sense, it is--having lost his life for believing in Jesus Christ, Bartholomew is able to bear his wounds with honor.

But all that is later—first Nathanael Bartholomew has to meet Jesus. It happens when he is studying. Obviously, this pious and educated Jew loves God’s Word and knows it. He’s reading, when he is interrupted by his friend Philip, babbling excitedly about the Messiah. Everybody knew the Messiah came from Bethlehem, not from Nazareth—says so right in the scriptures.  Nathanael is puzzled. Nazareth? That dump? Can anything good come out of the backwater town of Nazareth?

 Sitting under the fig tree, in the traditional place that rabbis went to read and interpret the Scriptures, Nathanael has his eyes opened. First, by Philip who invites him “Come and see”—beyond all explanation, beyond all theological discussion, “Nathanael—just get up and come with me and see what I’m talking about.”

In the first six verses of this passage, a form of the Greek word “to see” is used six times. But it’s not only about physical sight. Because after all, when Philip invites Nathanael to come and see, what is there to look at? A peasant in a dusty robe surrounded by fishermen and common folk? A 30-year-old regular guy from a small town? The prophet Isaiah tells us that the Messiah “had no form or loveliness that we should look upon him.” Jesus is hardly a sight for sore eyes—unless those eyes are the eyes of faith.

Jesus reveals that he knows Nathanael bar-Tolomei already, having seen him under the fig tree. Nathanael is still thinking physical sight—wow! This guy has got superpowers! If he’s not a fortune teller or a magician, he must be God. So Nathanael says as much. But Jesus gently questions, “Do you believe because you have seen? Do you believe because of this miracle? You will see greater things than these.”

“Wow,” Nathanael bar-Tolomei maybe thinks. “I’m going to really go somewhere with this guy! I’m destined for great things! Angels! Descending and ascending into heaven!”

Great things, eh? Like a lonely death in some rural outpost. Like knives stripping your skin from your body. Like the church not even knowing your true name.

Too many times, we get in the habit of trusting what our eyes see: things that can be measured and weighed and so we know they are real. We want our religion to be visible: good works that everybody can see, happy people, a friendly and outgoing pastor. We want charts and graphs that tell us that we’re doing good membership-wise, a budget and checkbook that shows black and not red. We want people to speak and think well of us, so by all outward appearances we’re doing just fine.

Except—be careful of relying on your physical sight. As with Bartholomew seeing “greater things than these”, things are not always what they seem. God is not found in the biggest, the best, the most obvious, the places like green fields and beautiful sunset, the perfect family, the perfect church—places we can see with our worldly eyes and think, “Aha! Here is God!”

No, God is found next to a man being tortured to death for his faith, who refuses to give up Jesus in the face of a thousand knives. God is found in the mouth of a friend who says to one in confusion, “Hey—come with me and see Jesus.”

God is found in a blessed woman who served as godmother to ten new Christians years ago, and that faith is continuing today. God is found in small amount of water poured and the Word spoken that makes a young woman here a daughter of the King.

God is found in a tiny bit of wafer and a sip of wine—hardly a lavish banquet! God is found in the body of his Son, stretched out on the cross, arms open to all, naked and bleeding and praying: Father, forgive them,. They don’t know what they are doing. God is found in the midst of conflict and hurt and anger and bitterness and gossip and mess. God is found there, working to get us to see with new eyes that what the world calls the greatest things, or the greatest gifts, pale in comparison with love, charity, mercy, forgiveness of sins.

In Bartholomew’s death, however it happened; in his anonymous life; in his never-recorded preaching of Jesus and inviting others to “come and see”, we have our eyes opened, too. Opened to see that the greatest works of Jesus are his revealing of the Father’s love for us. This miracle doesn’t look like much to human eyes, and it certainly isn’t flashy. It’s not full of solid and prosperous numbers to make a businessman’s heart happy. It’s no guarantee of smooth sailing and happy times.

No, it’s just love. Undeserved mercy. Faith that performs no giant miracles in your life except getting you through the day with the knowledge that Someone beyond your mess loves you without condition and without reservation. And as you have been loved, so you love.

You all received the call “Come and see” from somebody, and here you are! Maybe you experienced a miracle, and Christ turned on the light in your dark world. Maybe you were running and away and something big happened to bring you back to the Lord. Maybe you never left, and have been faithful all your life. Maybe you’re just bored with all of this, but still come to church anyway because you can’t quite let go. Maybe you don’t know why you are here.

Maybe you used to doubt, but had to come see this Jesus guy for yourself and along the way encountered the living God. Maybe all, maybe none of these.

But know this. Jesus promises you will see great things, that you will receive power to become children of God, that you will be able to walk, even through the wilderness, because he bears you on eagle’s wings. You may stumble, but you won’t fall. You may be beaten down, but you won’t be totally crushed. You’ll for sure sin, but God will not hold it against you. Not even death can separate you from him.

You can’t see the cross marked on your forehead at your baptism except with faith eyes. We don’t see Jesus baptizing Alexis here, washing sin away, unless we’re looking with trust in his Word. You can’t see Jesus in the bread and wine except through that same lense of faith. And you know what? It’s hard to see Jesus working in the church, especially since it’s full of bureaucrats, hypocrites, sinners, arguments, and all-too-human pastors and bishops and leaders.

It’s tough to see Jesus in others, especially if we only look at them with our own sight. But to look at each other with the eyes of Christ, we know then that we are seeing the greater things that he speaks of, the greater gifts that Paul talks about—that we are bound together in a unity that goes beyond mere preference or even if we like each other or not, and instead makes us family. The family of Christ.

Now you are the Body of Christ and individually members of it, Paul writes to the Corinthians. But that’s for you, too; us here at Grace. That we are the body of Christ, called to come and see with new eyes, different eyes. Bartholomew, or Nathanael, whatever his name was for certain, would surely approve. Amen.