Dt 30, Romans 10, Matthew 4
Grace and peace to you, a word of welcome on this always-fun Sunday, as
we observe the festival of our patron saint, Andrew the Apostle. A little like a birthday party for us always,
or a homecoming weekend, an anniversary, and certainly a time to pause for a
moment to think about how the spirit of this great place, St. Andrew’s--176
years old this year—about how the spirit of this great place is and has become
a part of who we are.
I’ve seen a number
of constructions. St. Andreans is what I prefer, since the name in Greek is “Andreas”-- though there were a few
around here for a while who preferred “St.
Andrewsians.” For some reason Ruth
Cover always preferred that one. And I have
occasionally heard from the direction of the Star Trek section of the Choir, “St. Androids.” But in any event, a particular and distinctive
and peculiar species, DNA passed down in some mystical invisible way generation
by generation, despite all kinds of differences of background, perspective,
life experience. “Every breed of cat,”
as I like to say every year about the parish by the zoo.
Democrats and Republicans, vegetarians and
omnivores, wine-bibbers and tea-totallers, city dwellers and folks from near
and far suburbs and towns, people who love baseball and, hard as this is to
believe after the wonderful year our Pirates have had, people who don’t. Even at this point in this challenging season
I’m sure even a few loyal-to-the-end Steeler fans. (Maybe things will continue to look better
this afternoon in Cleveland.) Chamber
music and country, Handel and Hendrix. People
who will describe their lives and families and communities and interests and
their Christian faith in a multitude of vocabularies. A big enough map to locate just about
everybody. But in the midst of those
differences and diversities, something shared.
An inclination to be here, to be together, prompted by our Better
Angels, I think. Holy Spirit, and I
absolutely believe that. Whispers of
encouragement. Stirrings of the heart
that take place in such quiet ways that we don’t even notice them at first. Every one of us meant to be here. Here for a purpose.
Grace and peace then, St. Andreans, St. Andrewsians, St. Androids. And visitors and friends. The old story was that someone once asked how
you joined this bunch, and the answer was that all you need to do was to stroll
past the front door slowly once or twice out on Hampton Street and you’d be eligible
to serve on Vestry.
Obviously things a little different this year on this chilly morning, with
all the construction, so that our usually extravagant St. Andrew’s Day
Reception becomes more simply a classic Pittsburgh Cookie Table in the bit of
Brooks Hall that we have to work with while all the renovations are in
process. Nonetheless: as Dickens’s Tiny
Tim will solemnly pronounce again as the season rolls along, “God bless us,
every one.” And with a special greeting
and appreciation again this year to our friends of the Syria Highlanders. Thank you for the gift you bring us in
stirring up these ancestral memories on this St. Andrew’s Day, echoing brightly
in the new acoustic of our renovations, and thank you for the opportunity you
share with us in support of the wonderful work of the Shriners’ Hospitals for
Children. A great cause.
Certainly the pioneers of this place back in 1837 were aware of St.
Andrew’s role as patron saint of Scotland.
Perhaps they were recognizing and honoring in those days the large
Scotch-Irish population that had been such a large part of the first European
settlement in this region. And so to
hear the pipes again across the neighborhood and ringing through the church—it
is for us an old and familiar song.
Andrew in addition to Scotland, the patron saint of Barbados, the Ukraine,
Russia, Romania, Patras in Greece, Amalfi in Italy, Luqa in Malta, Esgueira in
Portugal. Patron of Prussia, and of the
Order of the Golden Fleece (I looked that up a couple of years ago in Wikipedia—an order dating from
the 15th century comprising members of the royal families and high
nobility of old Europe). And the emblematic St. Andrew’s Cross appears on the
flags of Scotland, Australia, New Zealand, Nova Scotia, Tenerife, Galicia, and
the state flags of Florida and Alabama, among others. Andrew is also, to note a couple of weeks after
our observance of Veterans Day, the patron saint of the U.S. Army Rangers.
In any event, he got around. This St. Andrew of ours. “How beautiful are the feet of those who
bring good news!”—as St. Paul writes for us and for all time in Romans 10—the
epistle reading for this day, which you can see in the order for the 9 a.m.
Holy Communion this morning. And Psalm
19: “Their sound has gone out into all lands, and their message to the ends of
the world.”
The Brotherhood of St. Andrew: a missionary
society in the Episcopal Church since the later years of the 19th
century—trained and supported lay leaders who would go out into frontier areas
to establish the foundation of church growth.
The parish I served many years ago, St. Andrew’s in State College,
Pennsylvania, founded by two layreaders of the Brotherhood of St. Andrew from
St. John’s Church in Bellefonte. A story
repeated many times across the Midwest and West across the expanding American
frontier.
We've heard one story about the calling of Andrew
and Peter here in St. Matthew this morning.
Leave your nets and come with me: fish for people . . . . The story in St. John has Andrew as a
disciple of John the Baptist, who with another John the Baptist follower hears
John speak about Jesus and follows after him to see what he’s all about, and
who then goes and finds his brother Peter to say, “come and meet the person we've been waiting for all our lives.”
Then again in St. John, when Jesus the multitudes have followed Jesus
into the countryside to hear his teaching, and when evening has come and the
people are beginning to get hungry, and nobody seems quite sure what to do,
Andrew brings to Jesus a little boy who has brought his lunch from home, five
loaves of bread, and two fish. And later
still, at a moment of crisis on the journey toward the cross, some Greeks come,
seeking Jesus, and it is Andrew to whom they speak first, and he brings them to
him.
All the stories about what happened for
Andrew after Pentecost Sunday are pious traditions, but they would certainly follow
along the same New Testament pattern. Meeting people where they are, and
leading them to Jesus. A ministry of introduction
and evangelism. Commending Jesus. Inviting others who haven’t met him yet to
come into his presence, to experience for themselves his tender mercy, his
forgiveness, and the healing and new life and real and substantial hope that
flow from the knowledge of his resurrection.
Andrew, always ready to say a good word about Jesus. How beautiful are the feet of those who bring
good news!
For 176 years under his banner as this community
of Christian people. Pilgrims. Men and women, boys and girls. All sorts and conditions. And somehow here good Andrew keeps doing his
work, fishing for people, taking them by the hand and bringing them to meet his
friend. We’re building the equipment and
infrastructure in our Opening Doors project next door. Capacity for outreach. Capacity for welcome. Let me introduce you to someone you've been waiting all your life to meet. The
Hope of the Nations. Inspiring us, at
this Font and at this Table, sustaining us, equipping us, as the Word is
proclaimed and studied, as we meet Jesus here, and as we continue to meet him
and to walk with him then from this great place to all corners of the
neighborhood and city and region around. For all of us who would walk under the Banner
of St. Andrew the Apostle.
“The word is very near to you; it is in your
mouth and in your heart.” “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring
good news!”
Blessings on this St.
Andrew’s Day, friends, for those of us who are here today, and for those whose
first Sunday in this great place will be next Sunday, or the Sunday after
that. Perhaps the neighbor who slips in
by the side door a few weeks from now to watch and listen as our children tell
in their pageant the story of the Savior’s birth. Perhaps the friend who accepts our invitation
to attend the beautiful offering of Lessons and Carols. Perhaps the one who decides after years of
frustration and resistance and sadness and hurt to give the Christian message
and that Bethlehem Baby another hearing at midnight on Christmas Eve. Perhaps a neighbor in Lima Peru, introduced
to Jesus by her Five Talents Solidarity Circle.
Perhaps a neighbor right around the corner, whose hard road to recovery
is made a little easier by the friendship and helping hand of one of our Off
the Floor Pittsburgh Saturday mornings.
How beautiful indeed are the feet of those who
bring good news—and the news that Andrew had to share, the news that we have to
share, the best news ever. Come and meet
Jesus. He is the one we have been
waiting for.
Next Sunday is Advent Sunday and the beginning of
a new year on the calendar of the Church.
May the next year and may the next
176 years of our life together continue the story and announce the good news in
great and new ways, always to bring honor, glory, and praise, through Christ
our Lord.
Walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself
for us: an offering and a sacrifice to God.
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