I’m half Armenian; my dad is full. His father was born in America, but his mother came over from Armenia when she was a young girl. When I became Catholic three years ago, I had a newfound love for my Armenian heritage, founded squarely in the country’s historic Catholic faith. My sister and dad got to visit Armenia for 10 days a couple of years ago, and the pictures of some of these old church ruins and still standing chapels are symbols of the legacy that these missionary Apostles left behind. Reflecting on St. Bartholomew’s sacrifice today was sobering for me; suddenly the centuries of time that separates the apostles’ lives from mine seems to have shrunk. This man gave his physical life to bring spiritual life to a country full of my ancestors. His love of Jesus and faith in the Gospel were unshakable.
Sometimes we take for granted the faith that we have received, the faith that has been passed down to us. We in America and much of the western world today live in an age and culture where many view the practice of Christianity as an optional Sunday activity, like brunch or golf. But we don’t realize what we are relegating to the margins of our life and culture. We are throwing away something precious, something that men and women like Bartholomew died preserving. Even though I’m a practicing Catholic, and my faith is precious to me, I know I am constantly in danger of taking it for granted. But today, Bartholomew’s face and story make that less likely to happen. Today, I send thankful prayers to heaven to St. Bartholomew, and I ask for his intercession in return. Pray for us, St. Bartholomew, that the words Christ spoke of you will be true of us too.