Today we celebrate the glorification of St. Andrew. For now though, I’d like, if I may, to speak above all about Andrew’s humiliation.
I wonder if you’ve ever noticed the extent to which St. Andrew is left aside in the New Testament writings? This is quite remarkable, in view of Andrew’s prominent position, and his surely justified claim to a certain preeminence. St. John the Evangelist is regarded traditionally as Andrew’s un-named companion among the disciples of John the Baptist, from before the beginning of the public ministry of Jesus. So it’s in John’s Gospel that we read how Andrew was called first, before anyone else at all. Simon Peter came to Jesus subsequently, and only through his brother Andrew. According to St. John’s account, from that very first meeting and call, St. Andrew identified and announced Jesus as the Messiah (John 1:41). Yet from then onwards it was always Simon Peter, not Andrew, who was singled out, specially promoted, specially commissioned, specially honoured (cf. e.g Mt 16:16; Lk 22:32; 24:34; Jn 20:4; 21:15ff. etc).
In today’s Gospel according to St. Matthew, we read how a little later Jesus made his call definitive. He invited his first four disciples to leave their fishing boats, and to become instead fishers of men. They were, first of all, the brothers Peter and Andrew; then the brothers James and John. These four disciples are always named first in the lists of the Twelve provided in the New Testament. Four times in fact: in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and then again in the first Chapter of Acts (Mt 10:2; Mk 3:17; Lk 6:14; Acts 1:13). But the inner circle that formed around Jesus did not consist of four. They were three only: Peter, James and John, with Andrew left outside.
According to the Synoptic Gospels, Peter, James and John were together invited by Jesus to witness the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law in Capernaum, then the raising of Jairus’ daughter, then the Transfiguration, and finally the agony in the garden of Gethsemani. At the Last Supper, Peter of course sat immediately beside the Lord, as St. John tells us. We might have expected to find Andrew placed by Jesus on the other side. But no: that place was taken by John. Andrew had to go somewhere else, lower down the table (Jn 13:23).
In the Acts of the Apostles, apart from his name occurring in the list of the twelve, St. Andrew is never once mentioned. At the crucial Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15), if he offered an opinion, no one considered it worth noting. St. Paul seems to refer to that Council in his letter to the Galatians (cf. 2:9). In the context of the controversy about circumcision, Paul went up to Jerusalem, he says, to see the Pillars of the Church. By his account they were Peter and John and James the brother of the Lord. Not Andrew anyway. The early Christian legend we have relates that St. Andrew went out, after that Council, to preach the Gospel in Bithynia, Macedonia and Achaia. If that is true - and why shouldn’t it be? - it seems impossible to imagine that Andrew would not have crossed paths with St. Paul quite frequently. But in all his writings St. Paul never once mentions him.
St. Mark seems to rub salt into this wound in a rather striking way. In his own account of the very first healing miracle in Capernaum, Mark mentions that the house where Peter’s mother-in-law lay sick belonged jointly to Peter and Andrew (Mk 1:29). Peter went in with Jesus to witness this healing, and so did James and John: but not Andrew. The text seems to imply that for this miracle he was even excluded from his own house.
Perhaps you’ll agree that for some people all this could have given occasion for temptation to resentment. The thought could have crossed the mind of someone in Andrew’s position: how come them, not me? Unhappily, as we all know, resentment can embitter a person’s whole life. A sense of grievance, of what might have been, or what should have been, but isn’t: this can dry up all sources of joy. Resentment is fuelled of course by pride; especially injured pride. It leads naturally on to envy, and to anger. How come I don’t get the recognition I deserve? How come this person is preferred over me? Or even: how come they have more natural gifts than I do, or apparently even, more supernatural grace? How come they have better opportunities, or more success, or more consolation, or more virtue, or they have the job I particularly wanted for myself?
The Scriptural record is silent about St. Andrew’s inner thought processes, but I’d like to suggest that if thoughts like these ever occurred to him, he entirely mastered them, so that they ceased even to exist.
St. Andrew was present when the Lord rebuked the disciples, squabbling about who should be greatest (cf. e.g. Mt 18:1; Lk 9:46; 22:24; Mk 9:33). Jesus taught there that whoever would be greatest must be as if the least, and as the servant of all. “Here am I among you”, Jesus said, “as one who serves.” These words sank into Andrew’s soul, and stayed there. He had already well internalised the advice of Jesus about seeking the lowest place at a banquet (Lk 14:8). He also could not forget St. John the Baptist’s wonderful humility. “He must increase”, said John; “and I must decrease” (Jn 3:30). Above all, over three intense years, St. Andrew watched, listened to, learned from Jesus. In that school he learned the power of humility, and of suffering: especially unjust suffering. Jesus was God’s own Son, and the Messiah, the King of Israel. Yet he came among us in lowliness and gentleness, and the only crown he ever wore was of thorns. From Jesus Andrew learned that our greatest duty, and our only true happiness, and fulfilment, is to do God’s will, however that presents itself to us. The task of our life is to seek God’s glory, not our own; and to accept all that God sends us, or gives us, with thanksgiving.
And so Andrew was content. So content was he that when martyrdom came his way, he was well content with that too. I say this by way of speculation of course, but I’m sure it must be true. Not bothering to dwell on what he had not been given, Andrew knew that he had been graced with many very wonderful privileges and blessings. A man of silence, and of genuine humility, he received them all in gratitude and joy, and he deployed them all for the sake of the Church. And now St. Andrew reigns in heaven, on a very high throne (cf. e.g. Mt 19:28; Apoc 20:4; 21:14). There he is permanently glorified as one of the Apostles of the Lamb. Each there rejoices to occupy his own particular place. But for all eternity Andrew’s place will remain that of the one was first called, and who first named Jesus as Lord.