St. Bartholomew's Feast Day 2025

St. Augustine of Canterbury Anglican Church

Bishop Peter F. Hansen

Eat and Drink at my Table

“Ye are they which have continued with me in my temptations. And I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my Father hath appointed unto me; that ye may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

THE APOSTLE KNOWN as Nathanael and Bartholomew was a bold and outspoken man, probably a fisherman from the city of Cana where he witnessed Jesus’ first public miracle. At one time, his good friend Philip had come to him saying, “We have found the One Moses wrote about in the Law, the One the prophets foretold—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathanael responded, “What good has ever come from Nazareth,” showing his small-town rivalry with a local village. “Just come and see,” said Philip. Which he did, and Jesus saw him coming, stopped what he was saying to others, and exclaimed, “Look here, a child of Israel who speaks his mind.”

Nathanael the Bartholomew, the son of Talmai the valiant, his patronymic, was for once stunned to near silence. “Do you know me? How?” Jesus knew a lot about Nathanael and suggested this by claiming to have seen him under a fig tree. It’s easy to hide under a wild fig, for the heavy leaves drag the branches down and create deep shade and cover. Whatever this meant to Nathanael, it so convinced him of Jesus’ spiritual powers that he cried out, “You are the King of Israel! You are the Son of God!” The son of Talmai immediately joined the new fellowship of disciples.

What he witnessed then over the course of three years transformed his life, and his characteristic honesty and outspokenness became a frank and believable eyewitness accounting of the life and mission of Jesus of Nazareth, where something very good indeed came from. After Christ’s death, resurrection and ascension, Saint Bart did as the rest of the Apostles did in obedience to Christ’s great command, to go into all nations, to every tribe and ethnic group saying that someone very good had come from Nazareth, Jesus the Son of God. He went into Asia Minor, back to the Middle East, Persia and India. On one trip to Armenia, Nathanael exorcised demonized people, healed sickness, gave sight to the blind, and encouraged the population to rid themselves of idols and take the true God, Jesus the Nazarene. Even the king of Albanopolis was converted to be a Christian, but that sparked an angry reaction from the king’s brother and the pagan priests who were being displaced. They set a trap to arrest Bartholomew, and in the most horrible death, flayed him alive. The Apostle died, speaking out truth until they beheaded him.

Why do we celebrate such men? Were they crazy? Was it all a sad myth they died to promote, and were their deaths merely tragic ends for deluded simpletons who claimed an impossible dream like Don Quixote and his windmills? We believe all the Apostles except John were martyred, and John was boiled in oil and imprisoned only to live a long life of pain, but was their sacrifice worth anything? Did all the misery told by St. Paul in his whippings and shipwrecks come to nothing?

It would have, had it all stopped right there. If death had been the disclaimer of these men’s ministry, as we might account it today, the whole thing would have died with them. But look at what happened instead. These twelve, adding back St. Matthias to the number, came out to their world as luminaries, miraculous persons, fully convinced of their Gospel, sure of every word they spoke, with signs following as they told their experiences. They told of Jesus raising a dead girl. Then a dead girl was brought to them. They prayed and the dead girl rose alive again. Christ’s ministry of miracles, just as He had promised to them, continued in His Apostles and many disciples, men and women. The power of the Gospel spread through the Mediterranean region, Middle East, Africa, Southern and Western Europe, so that by the time Constantine rose to power, it was the only religion in the Roman realm that had any energy, and it gave life and good living to all its followers.

Once established, the frequency of miracles, gifts and signs diminished so that the words themselves might be the strength of the continuing movement. The truth prevailed. Saints and countless martyrs had borne the terrible heat of persecution, like Bartholomew, and kept the faith through it all. They didn’t do it for the purposes of power, or to make others wrong, but to show how love works wonders, and forgiveness paves the way to healed relationships and happy lives.

The lesson from Acts today speaks of St. Bartholomew, with his friends and fellow Apostles:

And through the hands of the apostles many signs and wonders were done among the people… the people esteemed them highly. And believers were increasingly added to the Lord, multitudes of both men and women, so that they brought the sick out into the streets and laid them on beds and couches, that at least the shadow of Peter passing by might fall on some of them. A multitude gathered from the surrounding cities to Jerusalem, bringing sick people and those who were tormented by unclean spirits, and they were all healed. ^{Acts 5}

If a very sick child whose life is despaired of was brought to your feet with fervent requests by her mother for you to pray over her and heal her, what would you do? What would you want to be able to do? If your prayer to God got empowered by the Holy Spirit, and signs of healing and new life began to show in the face of the suffering child, and over the next few minutes and hours health returned to her: what would you do with your life hereafter? Would you go back to making widgets and punching a clock for a living? Could you accept ordinary life if an extraordinary ministry opened itself to you, with power from God above?

Bartholomew never went back to fishing. None of the Apostles went back to their former lives. Christ’s call for them was definite. We are not all called to leave a boatload of fish behind. But our lives can still proclaim a power that rules over us and orders our lives, and our faith can be openly seen when the question rises. We are stewards of many gifts, the holders of talents in the Name of God. It may entail money, it may be time of service, it may require hours on our knees, it may mean risking friendship for the proclamation of truth. It may mean loving when love only makes you hurt. But what is at stake here?

There is a place set at a great table, and the placemat has your name embroidered upon its face. Crystal goblets, golden platters, lit candles shine in the eyes of all who attend. They are waiting for you before the grace, before they start. Gentle music sets a mood of quiet grace. Angels quietly pass between the parties with trays of steaming food, flagons of wine, urns of cool clear water. It is the Lord’s Table, and you are an invited guest. Will you be there?

Christ’s parable of the unwilling but invited guests suggests that we have a choice, nothing is inevitable. Freedom means freedom to pass it up. No one there is fighting for the chief seats, for every seat is glory beyond imagining. If we have stayed with Him through tests and temptations, including the temptation to let all this go, and if we say with Peter, “To whom else might we go? You have the words of life eternal.” If we press on, we will at last arrive, on that day when we retreat from this world’s portions and passions. And then we will eat and drink at His table. And Mr. Bartholomew will smile with joy.

+PFH