06/07/2026
Sermon Given on Sunday, June 7, 2026
Hebrews 11:33-12:2; Matthew 10:32-33, 37-38; 19:27-30
"The Communion of Saints and the Martyric Inheritance of the Church"
In light of our Epistle reading for today, which mentions several of God’s righteous ones, some of whom suffered greatly for their faith, and who even lost their lives, let us consider the very robust understanding that the Church has regarding the notion of the Communion of the Saints. When I use that phrase, Communion of the Saints, I mean this: those faithful ones who are no longer living in this life, who we commonly say have died, they are actually much more alive than we are, because they are even more strongly united to the Destroyer of Death and the Source of Life- our Lord Jesus Christ. And because Christ unites all who are attached to Him into one Body, these holy ones mentioned in our reading, and the countless others who have gone on before us to their eternal rest and glory, become our older brothers and sisters, trusted examples of what it looks like to be faithful to God. This is why we ask them for their prayers. This is why we fill our churches and our homes with their icons. We still have a strong bond to them, a bond that death cannot break, because, after all, Christ has broken Death.
In that reading, we heard about how some of these saints were tortured, some sawn in two, some stoned, and some were put to death by the sword. One of the distinguishing features of the Orthodox Church, is that we are truly the Church of the martyrs. In fact, one of the hymns for this Sunday celebrates this reality. We sang that the Church regales herself in the blood of the martyrs. I had to look up the verb regale. It means to delight in or to celebrate. We are essentially saying that the martyrs are the joy and boast of our Church. To quote from the early Church writer Tertullian, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” Martyrdom is a defining characteristic of our Orthodox spiritual family history. And in our hymns, we do not even shy away from describing, at length, the various cruel methods of torments that the martyrs endured.
Are there Roman Catholic and Protestant martyrs? Of course there are. But a careful look at Christian history demonstrates quite clearly that whether it was during the early centuries of Roman persecution, or the times of Ottoman and other Muslim-based persecution, or during the godless persecution of the Communists during the last century, more Christians from the Eastern lands, that is, more Orthodox Christians, were martyred for their faith than Christians from any other confession. And this inheritance of martyrdom is something that is in our spiritual DNA as Orthodox.
Here in the West, with the religious freedom that we have enjoyed, these stories of martyrdom may seem like distant history or something that we aren’t really connected to. We need to bridge that gap by becoming much more familiar with the martyric inheritance of our faith. This morning, I would like to give you two examples of some choices that our brothers and sisters in the faith have made regarding how they adorned their churches. These choices will tell us a lot about the proper and authentic relationship that the Orthodox Church has with martyrdom. The first story is something I experienced just a few weeks ago, when I was traveling through the countryside of southern Albania. And the second is a story told by Fr. Paul Dinkov, whom some of you know, and whom a few of you are related to. For those of you who don’t know, Fr. Paul used to serve the Orthodox parishes in Sheboygan and Fond du Lac and he is now living with his family in his native country of Bulgaria. He married a young woman from St. Nicholas- Presbytera Lorice, and he is therefore Arthur’s grandson-in-law and Sarah’s nephew-in-law.
Here’s the first story. I had heard about a little village called Voskopoje, tucked away in the hills outside of the city of Korce in southeastern Albania. National Geographic published an article singing the praises of the magnificent frescoed icons of the little 18th century churches there- claiming that this cluster of churches and the iconography preserved within them was like nothing else anywhere in the world. So, on a dreary and rainy afternoon, Kh. Maria and I, with our fearless driver Hannah, our daughter, ventured out into the rugged countryside until the paved road became a dirt road and we finally came to the little village. Because of a lack of time, we only were able to get inside of one of these churches, the Church of St. Nicholas. This church was suffering from the ravages of time and neglect. The village was bombed during WWII and the latter part of the 20th century was the time of the dictator Enver Hoxha, who tried his hardest to stamp out all vestiges of religion in Albania. And yet, this church and its frescoes are still there after nearly 300 years!
What amazed me and what brought me to tears while looking around inside this little church, was how many large-scale scenes of martyrdom were covering its walls. I would look to my right and there would be a scene of a martyr being beheaded. And I would look to my left and there would be a scene of a martyr being crucified. And then there were several others of saints enduring graphic and horrendous torments. It seemed that wherever I looked in this church, the suffering of the martyrs was before me. These were not small and discreet icons over in a corner, but large depictions that were impossible not to notice. And there were many of them.
This left a deep impression on me. I felt a bit shaken after leaving the church. This was a regular parish church, not a monastery chapel populated only by stern and solemn monks. Presumably, this church was filled with families and other village folk on Sunday mornings. And when they built their church and hired iconographers to paint the interior, this was the design choice they made. Why? Because these humble Christian believers living under constant threat from the Ottomans, understood something that is inherent to Christianity. They understood that Christians are followers of the God-Man Jesus Christ, who was unjustly tortured and killed, and whose Apostle, St. Paul once wrote, “All those who live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Suffering, persecution and sometimes martyrdom have been the norm, the regular lived experience for many Orthodox Christians throughout history. And perhaps it was even the great grandparents or other ancestors of those faithful believers who chose to decorate their church in that way, who were among the company of martyrs being depicted on their church walls. Certainly, 18th century Albanian Christians had a more intimate and visceral understanding of suffering for the faith and of martyrdom than we do right now. Living when and where they did made martyrdom a distinct possibility.
Now here’s the second story. A few months ago, Fr. Paul was visiting a small town in southern Bulgaria called Batak. There, in a little church, is a sobering sight. He posted a video of this on his page, and that is how I know about it. In the video, on either side of the nave of the church where the people stand during the divine services, are two large coffin-sized reliquaries filled with dozens and dozens of skulls, femurs and other large bones of Christians who were slain by an irregular Ottoman army in 1876. In a few locations on the walls of this church, bloodstains have been preserved. Other signs of violence and destruction have been kept as well. This is how Fr. Paul grimly describes the horror that happened at Batak. He wrote, “After false promises of safety, [the Ottoman militia] slaughtered the population. Not soldiers. Civilians. Men were butchered in the streets. Women were [violated] and killed. Children were burned alive or hacked apart. The final massacre happened inside the Church… where hundreds sought refuge. The church became a killing ground. Bodies were piled so thick that, according to eyewitnesses, you could walk across them without touching the floor. Estimates vary, but over 5,000 people were murdered in a town of about 7,000.”
So why am I talking about these graphic stories and images this morning? It is to drive home the reality that the possibility of suffering, persecution and even martyrdom should be the expected norm if we understand our faith, our Scriptures, and our history. This might make us uncomfortable, but there is no authentic Christian faith, and certainly no Orthodox Church, without a nearly countless host of martyrs. To be clear, all are not called upon to make this sacrifice. But we should not think we are necessarily protected, immune from what so many of our brothers and sisters have had to endure throughout the ages. But even if we never have to experience a martyrdom of blood, if we count ourselves followers of Jesus, we each must undergo the martyrdom of self-denial and of taking up our cross. Sanitizing Christianity of martyrdom alters the faith and neuters the Gospel.
When we American Christians make decisions about how to decorate our churches, we often have conversations about padded or unpadded pews, about what color to paint the walls, about whether we are going to have carpet or bare wooden floors, and so forth. But our Albanian brothers and sisters, living in a time when the possibility of martyrdom was much more immediate, were telling their iconographers to not hide but rather to highlight the graphic history of martyrdom in living color on their church walls. And our Bulgarian brothers and sisters, instead of trying to forget the horror that their ancestors endured, made the shocking choice to display the results of the violence that was perpetrated upon them.
Is this a sign of some sort of morbid fascination with violence and death? I don’t think so. But what about the kids? Why didn’t these Orthodox Christians feel the need to shield their children from the tragic reality of what others did to their Christian ancestors? If I may dare to guess, I would say that it is because they understood that if Orthodox Christianity is going to be truly presented, and if the Gospel of Jesus Christ is going to be properly reflected, that martyrdom simply cannot be ignored or sugarcoated. To do so distorts the very essence of Christianity. Celebrating the martyrs is a natural result of accepting the power of Christ’s Resurrection and the consequences that His Resurrection have for those who unite themselves to Him in faith.
I am not sharing this to suggest that we here at St. Nicholas have done anything wrong with how we have chosen to decorate our church building. No, my point is just this: it is an inescapable fact that authentic Christianity has an intimate and visceral experience of martyrdom and so, as Orthodox Christians, we must understand this and work to persevere and be faithful so that whatever God decides for us, it will be for our benefit and for the building up of His Church.
Finally, a warning. In most circumstances, the Church frowns upon anyone who would go out of their way to seek martyrdom. Thinking this way, that it would be righteous for me to seek out martyrdom, is probably a delusion. This is because there is a very high possibility that if one’s pride is involved in seeking out martyrdom, then that one could renounce the faith out of fear in order to escape death. The humble, rational thing to do would be to take steps to avoid martyrdom, without in any way compromising one’s faith.
