'Much Feasting in November'
Sermon preached in St Salvator's Chapel, St Andrews on the 25th November, 2007 (St Andrews Tide & Christ the King) by Rev Dr Robin Hill
Readings: Colossians 1: 11 - 20 & Luke 23: 33 - 43
Sermon
Gentle God,
Be with us now, we pray, as we listen for your Word to us: Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. AMEN.
November is a month of commemoration. Two weeks ago, we marked Remembrance Sunday with poppies and with silence. Three days ago, many US citizens in the University community would have celebrated Thanksgiving, a long way from home. This weekend there is a certain festive feel about the place, as St Andrews students make merry in their very own time-honoured and distinctive ways. Significant days, whether for the world, the nation or the city - and days with very different resonances too. Truly, there is much feasting in November.
Then, of course, if we move to the last day of the month, we arrive at Scotland's very own day of rejoicing. Here we are, in the city of St Andrews, fast approaching the feast of Scotland's patron Saint: Andrew himself.
What, I wonder, can Andrew teach us today? That's a question we will address in just a moment, but before we do, let's not leave November's feasting too soon, for this month of commemorations has yet another feast day up its sleeve. And that day - is today.
On this day, the last Sunday before Advent, we mark an important day for the Catholic, universal Church across all the world. On this chilly November day, we find ourselves at a staging post in the Christian year: the Sunday known as 'The Feast of Christ the King'.
Just think: is it not wonderful to discover that 'Christ the King' comes first, and then is so swiftly followed by St Andrew's Day? And that, in a sense, is exactly as it should be, because where Jesus goes, Andrew follows.
Look at the Bible, and at the calling of Andrew by Lake Galilee. There, Jesus came to the shoreline. He met two brothers, Simon and Andrew, and he called them to go with him, to become fishers of men. At once, says Matthew's gospel, 'at once, they left their nets and went with him.'
Where Jesus goes, Andrew follows.
So this morning, on this Feast Day of Christ the King, if we are to commemorate our nation's patron saint, it is right that we should remember him as 'a follower' - one who heard Christ's voice; one who left his nets; one who set out in faith, little knowing where his journey might end. For Andrew was one who was fully prepared to follow Christ.
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Today in our world of power politics (big business, high finance) leadership is seen as a trait of a brave - even an heroic - character. To be a leader is to be at the top of the tree, no matter your walk of life. But consider Andrew, the follower. He left his home, his security, his trade, to follow his leader. For him, there was neither a lucrative partnership to look forward to, nor the prospect of fame or glory. Rather, he heard Christ¿s call, and he set out. To lead bravely? No. To follow bravely.
Yes, where Jesus goes, Andrew follows.
In time, the fisherman from the shores of the lake proved to be a truly committed follower of this carpenter's boy from Nazareth. Although mentioned only a dozen times in the New Testament, Andrew is clearly there in the thick of the action, right the way through from the time of Christ's call, to the drama which is played out in Holy Week. As we have seen, Andrew's role is not to be in the forefront of the gospel narrative, but is rather to be a disciple: Andrew, a companion to Christ; Andrew, a human seed, just waiting to sprout in the early Church. His purpose in life is not to show his own greatness, but to testify to the greatness of another - the one who called him.
So let us now go back to our question, posed a few moments ago: what can Andrew teach us today, right here in the city which bears his name?
Above all, Andrew can teach us that we too are to put Christ first. Remember that this place of worship, this ancient chapel, is itself dedicated to Christ, 'the Holy Saviour', first and foremost, rather than to the saint whose name was given to the city and to the University. And that, surely, is precisely what Andrew would have wished, our attention being deflected from the follower, to rest instead on the one who calls.
And what of Jesus? Friend of the fisherman, yet also Christ the King.
On this feast day of Christ the King, here in the beauty of this historic place, it is tempting to reflect on Christ as the great monarch: there in his majesty at the dawn of Creation; made flesh as nothing less than the Son of God; living among us and displaying his unique, divine power.
But let us turn our attention to our other gospel reading for today - not the calling of Andrew, but the crucifixion of Christ. In this reading, we come face to face with the disturbing truth that there are more ways than one to interpret Christ's Kingship. The allotted gospel reading for 'Christ the King' Sunday is (surprisingly enough) the Crucifixion narrative. We read it, and it is as though we find ourselves flung from November, bypassing Advent and Christmas and the darkness of winter altogether, arriving direct at the agony of Good Friday itself. This is a most unexpected reading for any Feast Day, and a most disturbing one at that.
Through this Bible passage, on this special day, the Kingship of Christ must, for us, take on a new meaning, as we fall into the squalor of a municipal rubbish dump on the outskirts of first century Jerusalem - a killing field. This is hardly the place for a King.
And yet, there is Jesus, nailed to a Cross, his life ebbing away. There is Jesus, perhaps just another crucified prisoner of Rome, though perhaps, perhaps, something more. Could it be that this is, in the words of the letter to the Colossians, 'the visible likeness of the invisible God'?
God - made flesh.
Christianity is a faith which hinges on Incarnation. And the Christian story reveals that the Incarnation concerns nothing less than the God who on the Cross of Calvary becomes meat. In the words of the wonderful American writer, Frederick Buechner: "It is untheological. It is unsophisticated. It is undignified. But according to Christianity, it is the way things are."
God - made meat. How shocking. How totally unexpected.
Yet, in the topsy-turvy realm of Christ the King, the expected can sometimes count for little. On Good Friday, Jesus died, the sky darkened, the stone rolled across the mouth of the tomb, as though the final act had been played out to its conclusion.
But then, on Easter Day, it became clear to those who had followed Jesus (yes, Andrew among them) that death would not have the last word. The last word - would be the Word of God himself, the Word of God made flesh, dwelling among us, full of grace and truth. The incarnate Christ who had died, yet was dead no more.
Andrew, through the years of Christ's ministry, saw the highs and lows of life on the road. The teaching, the miracles, the challenges to authority, the arrest, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection. Andrew was an eye-witness who was inspired, and who was convinced, by his friend. He was ready to continue where Christ left off, because...
Where Jesus goes, Andrew follows.
If we believe the traditions of the early Church, Andrew, that faithful disciple, would go to his death, just as he had lived: a true follower of Christ. Though there is a great deal of unlikely legend surrounding Andrew's death, the tradition which is handed down to us speaks of an apostle who was crucified for his faith, possibly by the shore at Patras.
And so, the story of Andrew starts by the sea and ends by the sea. Or does it? Because if we take our beliefs as seriously as Andrew obviously took his, we need to look to a bigger picture of faith painted for us in this saint's life, and in his death. It is said that even on the cross, Andrew preached the Good News of Christ to the crowds who gathered around. Still Andrew followed his leader, and still Andrew spoke of hope in the face of his own, imminent, death.
That hope of Andrew was grounded in the very notion of God Incarnate - Christ the King, whose humanity speaks not of cheap and easy immortality, but of life, and of death, and of Resurrection. In the midst of human destruction, at very the heart of darkness - newness of life. Life that is resurrected by God.
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Let's close with some more words from Frederick Buechner. He points out that each of the great world religions has a symbol which helps its followers focus on their belief. Here's what he says:
"A six-pointed star, a crescent moon, a lotus - the symbols of other religions suggest beauty and light. The symbol of Christianity is an instrument of death. It suggests, at the very least, hope." AMEN.