August 27, 2025
The Feast of Saint Bartholomew the Apostle – Mark Winward
Monday was the Feast of Saint Bartholomew the Apostle, transferred this year from Sunday, August 24th, the traditional date of his martyrdom. Bartholomew, or Bar-Tolmai—literally “son of Tolmai”—was one of Jesus’ original twelve disciples according to the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Many scholars also identify him with Nathanael, who appears in the Gospel of John. Bartholomew the disciple became Bartholomew the Apostle when the risen Christ, in the Gospel of Matthew, gave the Great Commission, sending them out to “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Thus, those sent out with a mission became Apostles, going to the ends of the earth to transform the world.
According to second-century tradition, Bartholomew traveled as a missionary to India and then Armenia, where he was martyred. Eastern tradition holds that he converted an Armenian king, Polymius, to Christianity. Enraged by the king’s conversion and fearing Roman reprisal, Polymius’ brother, Prince Astyages, ordered Bartholomew’s torture and execution. That tradition recounts that he was flayed alive in Albanopolis, Armenia. For this reason, St. Bartholomew is honored as the patron saint of Armenia, as well as gruesomely of tanners, leatherworkers, bookbinders, glovemakers, and butchers. Because of his grisly death, Bartholomew is often depicted in art, iconography, and sculpture holding his own skin. Perhaps the most famous depiction is in the Sistine Chapel, where a restored St. Bartholomew holds his complete skin in heaven.
Yet Bartholomew is hardly alone in such a witness. Jesus knew the sacrifices his followers would make to spread the Good News of his kingdom in word and deed. The great second-century Church Father, Tertullian, famously wrote, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” Especially in the first three centuries of Christianity, believers were beaten, tortured, and killed in ways limited only by the imagination of their persecutors. Their steadfast refusal to deny Jesus as the risen Lord inspired countless others to embrace a faith whose very symbol was a Roman instrument of execution—the cross.
Who would possibly die in such a way for what they knew was a myth? Perhaps the greatest testimony to Jesus’ resurrection is the fate of the twelve Apostles themselves. Bartholomew was flayed alive. Andrew died on a cross. Simon was crucified. James, son of Zebedee, was beheaded. James, son of Alphaeus, was beaten to death. Thomas was pierced with a lance. Matthias was stoned and then beheaded. Matthew was slain by the sword. Peter was crucified upside down. Thaddeus was shot with arrows. Philip was hanged. Only John died a natural death, though even he was exiled to a remote island in the Mediterranean Sea.
The demands that Jesus places on those who follow him are extreme. I must admit, I am perplexed by how we in the Church sometimes blunt this sharp edge of the gospels and Christian history. If we practice our faith as Jesus intended, it cannot be reduced to a tame Sunday School faith confined to the four walls of a church once a week. The faith Jesus calls us to is nothing less than a hungering after God—even to the point of laying down our lives before him. It overturns our priorities, shakes our foundations, and at times sets us against friends and family, making us strangers in this world.
Such sacrifice is nothing less than heroic. Heroic faith is the difference between mere contribution and true sacrifice. Following Jesus Christ can never be reduced to a polite Sunday-morning routine. It demands walking the way of the cross. It demands readiness to face ridicule and rejection for our faith. It demands that we lay everything we possess, and all that we are, at the foot of the cross. And it demands that we kneel before Jesus Christ as the Lord of our lives—our central priority and focus.
The irony of the cross is that it represents far more than sorrow and sacrifice. Just as when Christ first walked that path, the way of the cross leads to eternal and abundant life. Paradoxically, as we surrender the things we place before God, we lighten our burdens, discovering a joy and freedom otherwise impossible. Far from throwing our lives into chaos, living under the Lordship of Christ brings order. And finally, we know peace—for in losing our lives, we truly gain them. The great reformer Martin Luther famously wrote, “A religion that gives nothing, costs nothing, and suffers nothing, is worth nothing.” The converse is surely equally true: a faith that gives everything, costs everything, and suffers everything is most certainly worth everything.
August 20, 2025
The Feast of Bernard of Clairvaux – Mark Winward
Jesus said to them, “How hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
– Mark 10:23, NRSV
As Mark Twain once remarked, “It ain’t those parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me; it is the parts that I do understand.” Many people have tried to dodge the force of this teaching. Some soothe their consciences by assuming that what Jesus says applies only to those who are truly rich. But who, exactly, are the rich? Often, the rich are simply defined as those who earn more than we do. The IRS sets the top 10% of income earners at around $149,000 or more per year, and while that varies by region, it is a good starting estimate for places like Pickens and Gilmer counties. Yet no matter the number, we somehow manage to draw the line just above ourselves, so that we can comfort ourselves with the thought that Jesus surely meant this lesson for someone else.
Over the centuries, there have been many attempts by preachers and teachers to enlarge or reduce the size of the “needle’s eye.” You may have heard sermons citing a tradition that the “Needle’s Eye” was the name of a small gate in Jerusalem,
August 13, 2025
The Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary – Mark Winward
Tomorrow is the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary, so it is highly appropriate that we mark this important day in the Church calendar at our mid-week service. In the Roman Catholic Church, this is a major feast day known as the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, commemorating when Mary was taken bodily into heaven.
However, although she holds a preeminent place among the saints, Anglicans traditionally recognize only what the biblical record tells us about the Blessed Virgin Mary. Along with most Protestants and the Eastern Orthodox Church, Anglicans have not necessarily acknowledged Mary’s Assumption, her sinless life, or perpetual virginity—nor do they see her as an intercessor for believers.
Nevertheless, historically Anglicans have affirmed her honored place among the saints, the virgin birth, and her example for us in humility, obedience, and trust in God. Nothing expresses this better than the Magnificat in today’s Gospel selection from Matthew.
In keeping with Jewish tradition, Mary was most likely only twelve to fourteen years old. Yet, despite being engaged, despite the certainty of social rejection, and despite her world being turned upside down, Mary demonstrated courageous faith. Her response was that of a child—unrehearsed but bursting with joy: “My soul magnifies the Lord!” She then goes on to tell us who God is, what God has done, and what God is still doing in the world today.
First,
August 6, 2025
The Feast of the Transfiguration – Mark Winward
And while [Jesus] was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. – Luke 9:29-31, NRSV
Today’s account recounts an event Christians remember as the Transfiguration. The other Synoptic Gospels—namely Matthew and Luke—tell this same story, but add that while it was all happening, the disciples had fallen asleep, only to awaken at the end. They almost missed witnessing a miraculous movement of God that would forever change their lives.
Often, we are so enclosed in our own little worlds that we lose sight of the bigger picture. How often are we preoccupied with our own issues to the exclusion of everything else? We become prisoners of our own trivialities, rather than opening our eyes to God’s movement in our midst.
Sometimes the veil between this world and the next is very thin. I wonder what might have happened if the disciples had recognized that the veil had been drawn away. Perhaps, like Moses on Mt. Sinai, they too would have been transformed. But it was easier for them to sleep through these events rather than be transformed in a profound way. Still, they were clearly touched by what they experienced, and their transformation had begun.