Let Christ strip away what is false
A sermon for the Feast of St Bartholomew, Sunday 24 August 2025 preacher by Fr Christopher Woods, the Vicar
In the Sistine Chapel, on the east wall behind the altar, Michelangelo’s Last Judgment confronts us with a great drama of heaven and earth. Among the figures swept up in that scene is St Bartholomew. He is shown in an unusual way: not holding a book or a cross, but his own skin—flayed from him in martyrdom. At first sight it is grisly, but Michelangelo is telling us something profound. Bartholomew holds not his death, but his truth. He has shed all pretence, all outer coverings, and stands before Christ in his barest reality—utterly known, utterly loved.
That, I think, is the key to today’s feast.
The prophet Isaiah declares, “Bring forth the people who are blind, yet have eyes… You are my witnesses, says the Lord, and my servant whom I have chosen.” (Isa 43.8,10) God is calling forth people who do not always see clearly, people who stumble and falter—but people who will bear witness. That was Bartholomew. Tradition tells us he carried the Gospel to distant lands, perhaps even to India, certainly to Armenia, where he gave his life. His witness wasn’t polished or protected; it was costly and transparent. He gave everything, even his skin.
In Acts we heard how the apostles’ very presence healed the sick, and even Peter’s shadow became a source of blessing. That is not magic, but the power of a life lived without pretence. When someone is truly open to God, when the layers of self-deception are peeled away, then Christ’s light shines through them. They themselves become sacraments of healing and hope.
And yet, in Luke’s Gospel, we catch the apostles arguing: “Who is the greatest among us?” They are still clinging to old skins, false selves, illusions of status and prestige. But Jesus says: “It is not like that with you. The greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves.” (Lk 22.26) That is what Bartholomew discovered. Martyrdom, for him, was not defeat, but the final stripping away of pride and illusion. He is remembered, not for status, but for surrender.
So what does that mean for us? Few of us are called to martyrdom in the bloody sense. But all of us are invited into this spiritual unveiling. Each of us wears outer layers—defences, masks, carefully constructed images. We want to look competent, holy, successful, untroubled. But God is not fooled by our disguises, nor does he need them. What God loves—what God longs for—is the real self underneath.
Bartholomew shows us: God loves the truth of who we really are.
Bartholomew shows us that holiness is not about building up a perfect image, but about letting Christ strip away what is false. Like him, we are invited to hold up our “old skins”—the masks of pride, the crust of fear, the armour of self-protection—and to offer them to Christ. And when we dare to do that, we find something surprising: instead of shame or rejection, we discover joy.
For Christ says, “You are those who have stood by me in my trials; and I confer on you a kingdom.” (Lk 22.28-29)
The true miracle of Bartholomew is not just that he endured martyrdom, but that he trusted God enough to be transparent. His feast day is an invitation to each of us: to be less afraid of being known, less afraid of being vulnerable, less afraid of being seen as we truly are. For it is in that very place of truth that God’s grace breaks through.
So perhaps we might picture Michelangelo’s painting again, and imagine ourselves standing before Christ with our own “old skins” in our hands. All that we’ve tried to be, all the illusions we cling to, all the masks we wear—laid down at his feet. And then to hear Christ say, “You are mine. I chose you. You are my witness.”
That is the gift of St Bartholomew to us today. Not horror, but freedom. Not shame, but truth. Not loss, but life.
