Stir It Up

Epiphany 2A—Text: John 1:29-42

Our gospel from John gives us four characters: Jesus, John the Baptist, Andrew, and Simon Peter. But really, the second half of the passage highlights that nearly beloved disciple, Andrew.

Think about all the things you know about the apostle Andrew. Picture them in your mind and cultivate those images into a vivid picture of discipleship. How perfect it would be if any of us could actually do that.

Andrew is one of those in-between cases in which we know enough about him to consider him a significant part of the story, but not enough to really get a sense of who he was. He seems to have been the top of the second-tier of disciples, who is most famous for being Peter’s brother. Though he gets the occasional shout-out in all four gospels and a single mention in Acts, we know very little about him. Think about this: Peter is the only one that I feel like I know. Next come John and James, who get to participate in ‘the inner circle’. Andrew and Philip, unlike the other disciples, actually get named and do things, but not much.

So who is Andrew? Obviously, he is Peter’s brother, and son of Jonas or John. He was likely born in Bethsaida, and according to Mark and Matthew was the first disciple (along with his brother). In John, today, we heard that he was John the Baptist’s disciple who is introduced to “the lamb of God”. He goes, gets his brother, and starts following Jesus.

John has two other important references to Andrew, one is in chapter 6 when he brings the boy to Jesus who has the two fishes and five loaves, and again in chapter 12 when he, with Philip, brings a group of Gentiles to Jesus. That’s about it (scripturally).

According to the ancient historian, Eusebias, Andrew traveled to Scythia (modern day southern Russia and Ukraine) making him the apostle to the Northeast. He is a patron saint of Patras, where tradition holds that he was crucified, not on a normal cross, but on a saltire cross (shaped like an X), as well as the patron of Scotland.

Andrew has afforded the church many opportunities to fill in the blanks. What we do know about what really happened during the second half of the first century can probably be counted on a hand or two. The second century is a little bit better. We started keeping better records, we began to organize, and we developed official truths.

But there are many truths.

I’m a postmodernist at heart. Like my modernist ancestors, I am desperate to know the one true reality; but unlike them, I know that I am asking for the impossible. We don’t really know who Andrew was. We know what is written about him, but we don’t know anything else. Really, how is that any different than our knowledge of the most infamous among us? I like legal shows—more Boston Legal and its predecessor The Practice than Law and Order—and the more you watch, the harder it is to see who is innocent and who is guilty. Making it even harder is the question so often explored on Boston Legal—who is guilty, but deserving of freedom and who is innocent, but deserving of punishment. The very notion that we can be ethically and morally repugnant and still righteous in the eyes of the law is so confusing to us. In fact, the main character, Alan Shore may best be described as ethically reprehensible and yet morally upstanding—in fact, his character has evolved into a champion of the greatest elements of our very nature, while opening ourselves to our basest and destructive tendencies.

Another example, this from the silver screen is Juno, the lead character in the film of the same name. Juno is a brash, slightly hedonistic 16 year-old who gets pregnant. Unlike the real-life Jamie Lynn Spears, the vapid younger sister of Brittany that is the new poster-child for teen pregnancy, Juno is a smart, articulate, and witty teenager, raised by her father and step-mother that would seem to be nobody’s preferred role models…until you see how much they really love their daughter. But Juno represents that strange prophetic voice that doesn’t “tell it like it is” (which is really a euphemism for being rude), but chooses to say things the way they come to her—and they actually turn out to be the things people need to hear. Above all, she’s honest.

Juno’s world, very much like our own—especially churchland—is trying to persuade her to follow along, to tow the line, and to participate fully on their terms. The film can teach us a lot about who we are called to be; and for many of us, that’s a lot more like Juno.

Juno and Andrew actually have a lot in common. Andrew certainly is not portrayed as being blunt—but is courageous. Think about what’s going on here. Andrew and the unnamed disciple are hanging out with John and John, says (essentially) “Look, there’s the son of God” and so he stands up and starts walking behind him.

And Jesus, after a few minutes, notices that he’s being followed, turns to them and says “What are you looking for?” Now if it were us, we would say a whole host of things, right? Salvation, relief, compassion, meaning. All sorts of stuff. But that isn’t Andrew. “What are you looking for?” His response? “Where are you staying?” What? Huh? Really?

Andrew’s response was direct and honest. “You. I’m looking to follow you.” But instead of saying those protective words, those sheltered words, he skips ahead to what amounts to “So where are we going? I’m following you and I’m looking for the place where you’re going to teach me.

Each of John’s descriptions of Andrew highlights his place as a willing missionary, bringing people to Jesus. He brings his brother, he brings the boy, he brings Gentiles. And each example gives us illustration of what our commitment to this ministry can be.

1. First Andrew brings his family, his brother. This man was also a coworker (both fishermen).
2. Then he brings a boy, showing a willingness to encourage participation and sacrifice of his lunch.
3. Lastly, he brings strangers and outsiders to Jesus. They aren’t circumcised—they aren’t Jews.

This Epiphany, as we get to know our God a little better, we have the opportunity to explore who we are called to be, and how we be. We are called to stir things up and mess up each other’s perfectly set hair. We are called to speak with truth, not the truth. We are called to praise God in the voice God gave us, not the way someone else expects to hear it. We are called to be difficult.

Some of our best examples are courageous, difficult people. These are gifts that usually come in the most unlikely of packages. Just weeks ago, we were reminded that the lamb of God was not born to old woman, like Elizabeth, but to a girl. Its time that we listen to the girls and boys around us.