Blessed Ignatius Maloyan, Archbishop of Mardin of the Armenian Catholics, is about to be proclaimed a Saint—an event marking a significant moment for the Armenian community and for the Catholic Church as a whole. The canonization Mass will take place in the Vatican on 19 October 2025.
By Joseph A. Kéchichian
For the French philosopher Blaise Pascal, “Evil is easy, and has infinite forms, while good is largely unique”, that, succinctly stated, summarizes man’s inhumanity to man. Beyond natural catastrophes, and at a time when we all watch man-made calamities, it behoves us to recall those who stood up to criminals, determined to defeat wickedness and, despite unspeakable tragedies, embodied virtuousness.
Ignatius Maloyan, a bishop who perished in the Armenian Genocide, endured evil, accepted martyrdom, and triumphed over malevolence. Pope John Paul II beatified Maloyan as a martyr in 2001, while Pope Francis approved his canonisation earlier this year, which will now be celebrated in a solemn Mass presided over by Pope Leo XIV on 19 October 2025 at the Vatican. Maloyan’s name will thus be inscribed into the official list of saints, the “canon,” both to recognize his heroic and virtuous life, as well as to inspire believers that evil can and must be defeated.
Remarkably, Maloyan earned his sainthood as he provided assistance to his flock at the height of the first genocide of the Twentieth Century, which aimed to eradicate an entire nation. His parish church was ransacked and the archives of his bishopric confiscated by Ottoman authorities—allegedly looking for weapons. In the event, no weapons were found because there were none, and all of Maloyan’s entreaties failed to persuade determined vassals who embarked on ethnic cleansing under false pretenses. How this son of Mardin [today in Turkey] confronted evil was a noteworthy story, and how he assumed his fate, an even greater chronicle.
Maloyan’s story
Maloyan was born on 15 April 1869 as Shukrallah Melkon, and enrolled at the Armenian Catholic Monastery at Bzommar, Lebanon, in 1883. He was 14. The young postulant perceived the monastery as the “hope of the nation,” its garden, the “hope of Armenia,” and those who “touched” it, lucky enough to witness pure joy. Bzommar, which became the seat of the Armenian Catholic See in 1749, tutored the young man in theology and philosophy. It further instilled in him a love for virtue. He learned how to pray, understand scriptures, communicate with fellow believers [in addition to his native Armenian, Maloyan spoke five languages—Arabic, English, French, Italian and, of course, Turkish], as well as preach the gospel. He took the name Ignatius as an Armenian Catholic priest in 1896, served in both Cairo and Alexandria, Egypt, as well as Constantinople (which became Istanbul in 1930), before he returned to his native city. The cleric was consecrated Bishop of Mardin in October 1911.
Mardin was a relatively cosmopolitan town in Anatolia, the seat of the Syrian Catholic Church and housed a Jacobite [Syrian Orthodox] Patriarchate, along with the Chaldean and Armenian Catholic bishoprics. An Ottoman administrative Mutassarifiyyah [district], it also housed three prominent mosques, given that nearly half of the population was Muslim. All of these communities co-existed in fundamental harmony that, in hindsight, boggles the mind. What happened to its inhabitants’ open-mindedness at the height of the massacres that followed was inexplicable. Still, and like the vast majority of Ottoman subjects, Armenians, Syriacs, and Greeks were loyal to the Pope. And Maloyan was no exception. Ironically, he even received a firman [Order] that decorated him on 20 April 1915, just four days before the raid that aimed to decapitate the Armenian nation by arresting and executing prominent intellectuals. Little did Maloyan know that he, along with his mother, brother and at least one cousin, would fall to Ottoman wrath, thereby transforming the family into a household of martyrs.
Tortured, deported, martyred
Even if few understood what was about to befall the nation, and as early as May 1915, the bishop sensed that an imminent catastrophe was about to come down on Mardin, which was why he shared his spiritual testament with his priests. In the whirlwind of rumours that alienated Ottomans from each other and that allowed the members of the ruling Committee of Union and Progress (CUP)—a revolutionary political party that actively sought to cleanse the empire of its minorities—Maloyan was arrested on 3 June 1915. He was harshly interrogated, tortured and invited to convert to Islam, which he refused to do. Witnesses who survived his co-detention testified that the bishop was beaten and his toenails were torn out, though he was allowed to bid his mother goodbye. Astonishingly, he asked her to get him a pair of shoes 2 sizes larger than what he usually wore, ostensibly to endure the anticipated march that all deportees were subjected to, but in reality, to hide his inflamed soles, the result of extensive bastinadoes.
On 11 June 1915, along with 417 Armenians and Syriacs, including 16 priests and several nuns, Maloyan was attached to a convoy of expelled Ottoman citizens [it is worth underlining] and deported towards Diyarbakir. He was executed on that date by an Ottoman officer whose name is well-known but unworthy of recollection. He was 46 years old.
The genocide
In their quest for relevance, Ottoman authorities set out to punish what they failed to characterize, namely, the enemies of their dying empire. In early 1915, Constantinople did not identify the alleged traitors of the state nor the nature of their putative felonies. It soon became clear that CUP figures contemplated and would soon engage in massive ethnic cleansing of non-Muslim subjects, especially Armenians, Syriacs and Greeks. Very few realized it at the time, but what was planned was a genocide.
Over the course of a century, Turkish academics added their timid voices to a slew of impartial assessments made by prominent international scholars to underscore that what actually happened was the annihilation of entire populations, even if, miraculously, the enterprise failed to destroy these nations. At least two million perished between 1894 and 1923, but the Armenian, Syriac and Greek nations survived, flourished, and thrived—albeit in more tolerant environments. Thousands of survivors found safe havens in Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, Palestine, and Egypt. Hundreds were sheltered in Arabia, including among prominent Al Saud family members, whose welcome mats were generously spread.