Sermon for the Vigil of the Feast of St. Andrew: November 20th

“ O cross so long desired, and ready now at last for the soul that pines for thee! Behold I come to thee with confidence and joy: do thou also embrace me with gladness.’’—Acts of St. Andrew.

My brethren, the authority of our holy fathers makes it obligatory upon us to observe a solemn religious fast on the vigils of the principal festivals : a most useful institution, beyond doubt, which “ shall not be reputed as folly in us” (Ps. xxi. 3) by him at least whosoever takes the trouble to consider the matter carefully. For we are daily guilty of numerous infidelities and ‘‘ in many things we all offend ” (James iii. 2). Hence it would not be at all safe for us to enter upon the celebration of sacred solemnities, especially of those that are highest in dignity, without having first purified our souls by abstinence, so that we may be found more worthy and more capable of receiving a communication of spiritual joy. Thus “ the just man is his own accuser in the beginning of his words ” (Prov. xviii. 17, juxta LXX), nor does he commence to recount the praises of others before he has reproved himself. But if even the just man quakes with terror at the thought of appearing before Him Who “ will judge justices ” (Ps. lxxiv. 3), what shall we do whose sins have not yet been either judged and punished by penance or covered by charity ? (Ps. xxxi. 1). There

III 33 4 is much reason to fear lest perhaps they should become “ manifest, going before us to judgment ” (x Tim. v. 24). And if the just man presumes not to celebrate the glory of the saints without due reverence and a certain feeling of embarrassment, how much less the sinner in whose mouth, as the Scripture says, “ praise is not seemly ” (Ecclus. xv. 9) ? Must he not be in constant apprehension of hearing himself addressed in the words, “ Why dost thou declare My justice ? ”? (Ps. xlix. 16), or in these, “ Friend, how camest thou in hither not having on a wedding garment?” (Matt. xxii. I). Happy, then, are they who are constantly solicitous to preserve their robe—I mean, the glory of their conscience—free from stain and always shining. But because only very few thus guard their hearts with all vigilance, whilst fewer still—if yet even a few can be found—preserve them in perfect holiness, it becomes necessary to wash away by frequent fasting our all but inevitable defilements, particularly when we are preparing for the celebration of some of the more principal festivals.

But the observance of a fast on the vigil is intended not only as a preparation for the morrow’s feast, it is also designed to give us an important admonition and instruction. For it serves to teach us what is the true road to the everlasting festivity. And wherefore, indeed, should we anticipate with a fast the solemnities of the saints, if it be not to remind ourselves “ that through many tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God ” (Acts xiv. 21)? For does not he prove himself undeserving to participate in the festive joys who refuses to keep the fast of the vigil? Yes, undoubtedly, if thou art unwilling to afflict thy soul on the vigil, thou shalt rightly beheld unworthy to share in the peace and gladness of the festival. Now the whole of this present time of penance may be regarded as the vigil of the grand solemnity, the eternal sabbath for which we hope. And if thou considerest the unending duration of that festival, thou wilt not complain that the vigil is too long. For although prolonged fes- _ tivities are wont to demand preparation proportionately prolonged, the everlasting festivity requires from us no more than a temporal preparation. But whither am I being led by the joyous thought of that immortal felicity ?—for such is the name more usually and perhaps more properly given to the celestial feast. At any rate, let us now come back to the subject of our present discourse.

The reason, then, of to-day’s fast, and the motive of the joyous solemnity for which we are preparing, is the glorious martyrdom of the Apostle St. Andrew. It seems only right that, since we cannot share with him in the torments of crucifixion, we should at least share in his fast. For there can be no doubt that during the two days whilst he hung upon the cross he also abstained from every kind of food. Let us therefore be found, even in some slight way, participating in his sufferings, if not his companions on the gibbet of the cross, at least his companions in the affliction of his abstinence ; so that, through the mercy of God, we may be accounted worthy to participate in his eternal reward hereafter, and to share even tomorrow in the spiritual joys of his feast. How indeed can we help rejoicing at the recollection of his triumph when we know that he himself exulted with an excess of gladness during the very time of his torments?

How can that festival be otherwise than joyous in which even the cross itself becomes a subject of joy ? For we commonly use the word “ festive” only to designate something that is joyous, and the very name “ cross ” is derived from that of a most cruel kind of torture, or rather the name of this torture is derived from the name “‘ cross.” Therefore, with what “ exultation of the whole earth ” (Ps. xlvii. 3) should not so unheard of a miracle, so magnificent an effect of divine power, be celebrated! Andrew “was a man passible like unto us” (James v. 17), and nevertheless he thirsted for the cross with such vehement ardour of spirit, and rejoiced with a joy unparalleled in the history of the world when at last he descried it awaiting him in the distance! ‘‘O cross,’ he exclaimed, “ so long desired, and ready now at last for the soul that pines for thee! Behold I come to thee with confidence and joy: do thou also embrace me with gladness.’’ You see, my brethren, how he is almost beside himself from the excess of his happiness. “Do thou also embrace me with gladness,” he cries. Is the joy, then, so abounding that the cross itself rejoices, and so fully that it is rather wholly converted into joy than has joy by participation? Or shall anyone say that it is less extraordinary, less above reason, less beyond nature for the crucified to rejoice than for the cross? To the latter nature denied the capacity of feeling joy ; and so far as it could prevail in the former, it banished every sense of delight and produced only feelings of anguish. Yet hear how he addresses the cross: “ I have always been thy lover,” he exclaims, “ and I have ardently longed to embrace thee.” Brethren, is not that a flaming fire rather than a speaking tongue ? Or if you insist that it is a tongue. it is at any rate a fiery tongue. His words are so many sparks of that tire which the Lord ‘‘ from above hath sent into his bones ” (Jer., Lam. i. 13). And would to God they were “ desolating coals’”’ (Ps. cxix. 4), consuming and burning out everything that we have within us of carnal affection! But if the sparks are so glowing, how great must be the interior furnace whence they are given off !

Truly, O blessed Andrew, truly thy faith “is as a mustard-seed’” (Matt. xvii. 19) in that it begins to give out from itself so unexpected an amount of heat the moment it begins to bepressed. What if it were subjected to a little more pressure? Could any mind endure the ardour wherewith it would then begin to glow? or could any ear endure the fiery words that would then be emitted? Thus, so long as the tyrant Aegeas was comparatively mild in his menaces our grain of mustard-seed appeared contemptible enough: it was still unbroken and we knew not what was concealed within. “The Lord hath sent me to this province,” he said, “ where I have acquired for Him a numerous people.” Let the pestle of minatory language be now employed. Immediately his fervour waxes warmer and his words more courageous. Aegeas expects to see him cowed by the threat of crucifixion, but he is doomed to disappointment. The soul of the blessed Apostle is only the more inflamed at this, and he boldly replies, “ If the torment of the cross had any terrors for me, I should never have preached the glory of the cross.” But when he sees the cruel gibbet ready for him, the sight sets him wholly on fire: he loudly voices his admiration for it, he addresses it in terms of endearMent, such as lovers are wont to use to their beloved, he salutes it With the wtmust reverence, le welcomes it most devoutly, he extols it in magnificent terms, he glories in proclaiming its grandeurs, and cries out more with the affection of his heart than with his lips, “ Hail, O precious cross, that hast derived beauty and loveliness from the sacred members of the Lord! Hail to thee, O cross, that hast been consecrated by contact with the Body of Christ and adorned as with pearls from His all holy Limbs!” Justly, therefore, is that lover of the cross venerated by all the servants of the cross. But he has a right to look for greater devotion from those who have more particularly engaged themselves to take up their own cross. It is to you, my brethren, I say this and with reference to you. For you have not turned a deaf ear to the trumpet tones of that evangelical voice, ‘‘ Whosoever doth not carry his cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple ” (Luke xiv. 27). Be ready, then, to devote your mind with all diligence to the morrow’s solemnity and to celebrate the same with your whole heart. For I assure you there is a rich treasure of consolation and encouragement laid up in that festival for such of you as will take the trouble to dig and to explore.