Saint Andrew: The First to Follow, the First to Invite

Every year, right as the Thanksgiving dishes are being crammed into leftover containers and Advent candles begin their annual migration to the dining-room table, the Church gives us a quiet but bold voice to start the new liturgical year: Saint Andrew the Apostle.

He doesn’t get the big headlines his brother Simon Peter receives. There’s no “Keys of Andrew.” No massive dome in Rome carrying his name. No moment where Jesus calls him “the Rock.”

But in the Gospels, Andrew has something Peter doesn’t:
He’s first.

The Protocletos (“First-Called”), the one who heard John the Baptist say, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” and responded immediately. The apostle who didn’t wait for perfect circumstances or a theological degree before bringing someone to Jesus. He simply encountered Christ then ran to get his brother.

In other words, Andrew is the patron saint of every ordinary Catholic who has ever whispered, “You’ve got to meet Jesus,” to a friend, a child, a spouse, or a stranger. His whole life models evangelization and discipleship, not the polished programmatic kind but the relational “follow me and bring your brother too” kind.

Domenico Ghirlandaio, “Calling of the First Apostles,” 1481 (photo: Public Domain)

The First Steps of a Disciple: Encounter, Then Invitation

Andrew’s story begins on the sandy shores of Galilee, where he and Simon Peter worked as fishermen. When he wasn’t mending nets, he was following John the Baptist and searching for the Messiah with a heart that wasn’t content to sit still.

That restlessness is part of why I love Andrew. He is the saint for all of us who are trying to find God while folding laundry or reminding kids that “bedtime” actually means going to bed. Andrew shows us that the desire for God is already a grace, and when God meets that desire, we move.

So when the Baptist pointed out Jesus, Andrew and another disciple (likely John the Evangelist) followed Him. Jesus turned, saw them walking behind Him, and asked the question that echoes into every restless human heart:

“What are you looking for?”

Andrew doesn’t respond with a theological statement. He simply asks, “Where are you staying?”

Translation: Can we be with You?

This is the heart of discipleship: desire → encounter → relationship.

And from that relationship comes Andrew’s defining moment:

“He first found his brother Simon and said to him, ‘We have found the Messiah.’ And he brought him to Jesus.” (John 1:41–42)

Andrew is the Church’s first evangelist. Not because he had a platform, but because he had a brother. Evangelization begins at home, around kitchen tables and school desks and daily routines.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s this:
Don’t underestimate what God wants to do through your simple invitation.

Apostle of Practical Faith: Andrew the Realist

The Gospels give us small windows into Andrew’s personality, and together they paint a beautiful picture.

During the feeding of the five thousand, Andrew notices the boy with the five loaves and two fish. He points him out to Jesus with honest realism: “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they among so many?”

Andrew sees the need, sees the limited resources, and sees the gap. Yet he still brings the offering to Jesus. He trusts that Christ can work with little.

Every parent, teacher, catechist, or exhausted Catholic praying the Saint Andrew Novena for the fifteenth time that day knows this feeling. We look at our world and want to say, “Lord, here is what I’ve got. It’s not much.”

Andrew replies: Bring it anyway. Christ multiplies.

Later, when a group of Greeks wants to meet Jesus, they approach Philip, who brings the request to Andrew. Andrew, true to form, brings them to Christ.

Jew or Greek, brother or stranger, child with a lunch basket or adult with big questions, Andrew’s instinct is always the same: Bring people to Jesus.

This is the essence of discipleship. Not complicated strategies, but the consistent habit of placing people in the presence of Christ.

From Nets to Nations: Andrew the Missionary

After Pentecost, tradition says Andrew evangelized throughout the Greek-speaking world: Cappadocia, Bithynia, Pontus, Thrace, and finally Achaia. He traveled far from home, preaching Christ to those who had never heard the Gospel.

One early Christian tradition claims he appointed Stachys as the first bishop of Byzantium (later Constantinople), symbolically linking him with the Greek East just as Peter is linked with Rome and the West. This “Apostolic brotherhood” has become an image of ecumenical hope, often invoked by Popes Benedict XVI and Francis when praying for unity between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches.

Andrew’s martyrdom continues this theme of humble discipleship. Tradition says he was bound, not nailed, to an X-shaped cross to prolong his witness. For two days he preached Christ from the cross. One ancient text records his stunning words:

“Hail, O Cross, adorned with the limbs of Christ.
Before the Lord mounted you, you inspired fear.
Now, filled with heavenly love, I come to you willingly.”

That is the heart of a disciple.
Someone who sees the Cross not as an end, but as a doorway into the love of God.

Detail from “The Crucifixion of Saint Andrew” (1651) by Mattia Preti [WikiArt.org]

Living Andrew’s Legacy Today: Evangelization Begins with One Invitation

Saint Andrew’s feast opens the door into Advent, a season that invites us to seek, invite, and prepare a place for Christ in our daily lives.

Last year, I introduced the Saint Andrew Christmas Novena to my family. We taped little printouts around the house to remind ourselves to pray. This year, I’m bringing it into my classroom too. It feels fitting. Andrew reminds us that discipleship thrives in simple, daily invitations.

The Church even has a modern practice inspired by his example: Project Andrew, where young men gather with priests to talk about vocation through relationship and conversation, not pressure. It mirrors Andrew’s original instinct to say, “Come and see.”

Your “brother” might be an actual sibling, a child, a spouse, a coworker, or a neighbor. It might be the person who always seems alone at Mass. Whoever it is, Andrew teaches us that evangelization is usually personal, simple, and rooted in love.

He was the first to follow Christ.
But more importantly, he was the first to bring someone with him.

May we do the same.

Saint Andrew, First-Called Apostle and faithful evangelizer, pray for us.

Related Links

Project Andrew Dinners 

Why Saint Andrew is the Perfect Advent Saint

St. Andrew the Apostle: 10 Things to Know and Share

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An Interview On Being Syro-Malabar


Editor’s Note: Matthew Chicoine interviewed Alex Shijan, a Syro-Malabar Catholic, via email in October 2025. Some of the questions/answers may have been rearranged, edited, and paraphrased to provide the best reader experience without losing any integrity of the answers given.


The Syro-Malabar Church traces its origins back to the preaching of St. Thomas the Apostle. How does that apostolic foundation shape the identity and spirituality of Syro-Malabar Catholics today?

Mar Thoma Margam

Our Church finds itself on what it calls the Mar Thoma Margam, Mar being a reverential title meaning Lord (connotations of Saint and Holy Person and the honorific used for Saints and Bishops), Thoma referring to St Thomas, and Margam meaning ‘the way’. These are the teachings and traditions that were handed to us by Mar Thoma (St Thomas) and they form the foundation of our Church. Nazrani was a popular name for those who follow Jesus the Nazarene, used quite often in the context of the early church in India

The Mar Thoma Sliva (St Thomas Cross)

The Mar Thoma Sliva is the embodiment of the Christian faith, identity and heritage of the Nasrani Church. The Sliva‘s design is a symbolic representation of the Glorious Resurrection of Maran Isho Mshiha (Our Lord Jesus Christ). Its various components collectively convey the themes of new life and the distinctive identity of the Mar Thoma Christian

Image taken from Australia’s Syro-Malabar Youth Movement Instagram page

The three steps at the bottom of the lotus signifies the 3 layers of heaven [see Mar Aprem’s Hymns on Paradise 2:10 – 11], it is also sometimes interpreted as the steps to Gagultha. The empty cross imitates the empty tomb which is symbolic of the resurrection of Isho. The blooming buds at the end of the four arms of the cross symbolises the new life that is restored to man through the resurrection of Jesus. The descending dove symbolises the Ruha D’Qudsha (Spirit of Holiness).

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With Jesus in Paradise: The Gospel of Hope and Mercy for All

Guest Post by: David Tonaszuck

A reflection on the Gospel of Luke 23:35-43

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

Today’s Gospel from Luke 23 draws us into one of the most astounding moments in Scripture: the crucifixion, where Jesus, suffering and mocked, reveals the true nature of His kingship. Let me share a story from a Catholic prison chaplain, Father Mark, whose ministry on death row embodies the transforming hope of this Gospel.

Father Mark visited men living with regret, some convinced they were beyond God’s forgiveness. One man, John, had always refused to see a priest, insisting he was too far gone. As his last days approached, John finally asked to talk, not about his crime, but about the smallest hope that God might still care for him. During their meeting, John quietly asked, “Could God really remember me?”

Father Mark turned to today’s Gospel and told him of the Good Thief—Dismas—who, nailed beside Jesus and condemned, found the courage to say, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus, in turn, offered pure grace: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” On the day of John’s execution, Father Mark repeated those words as he gave the last rites. In that moment, the Kingdom of God shone through, a kingdom of unearned hope and mercy, even behind prison walls.

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From Uncle Wendell to Don Bosco

By: Meg Naumovski

I grew up listening to stories about my dad’s Uncle Wendell.  At first, I remember thinking that this was some magical character my dad invented to entertain and inspire us, just the way my father seemed to be entertained and inspired by this man he adored. We would hear how when dad was a kid, he would follow Uncle Wendell around, entranced by his mechanical abilities to fix anything and entertained at the same time with his warm personality.

I imagined scenes of breezy late summer days in northern Ohio, white clouds in blue skies, soft lake breezes and the sound of Cicadas humming in the trees. I could picture a young version of my dad, blue eyes, tight blond curls, trying to make a whistle sound from his blade of grass (he always taught us this important skill as kids.) Little Glenn might have his freckled nose too close to the engine as he positioned himself “overseeing” Uncle Wendell’s work.  Maybe he tried to direct where he thought his uncle should connect a wire, and then I would recall some joke about how awesome “copper tubing” was, though I never quite understood what that meant. 

Many of the things my dad proclaimed to love about his uncle were the very things I loved about my dad. He was a handy man, an inventor, a jokester, and a craftsman.  As Dad would work in the garage, from a large project pile of scrap metal, wires, and other things that bewildered me, he whistled a tune that would float through the air, and his peaceful contentment was palpable. I would linger near him for hours at a time, just drawing or playing with dolls; whatever I could do to absorb any amount of his serenity.

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Christ the King: The Capstone of the Liturgical Year

Every year, just as the trees go bare and the culture rushes toward Black Friday, the Church places a very different celebration before us: The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. The title is long, but the meaning is simple. Before we begin Advent and once again wait for His coming, we pause to proclaim that Christ already reigns.

For many Catholics who aren’t familiar with the details of the liturgical calendar, this feast can feel like a quiet “bonus Sunday” before Advent. Yet the Church is doing something intentional here. She is reminding us that whatever chaos or confusion we see in the world, Christ is still King. Not metaphorically or symbolically, but truly.

And the more I’ve prayed with this feast (often while my kids ask if the celebration means donuts after Mass), the more I’ve realized it is one of the most needed solemnities of our time.

The King Who Comes in Clouds, Not Castles

The first reading for the feast is striking. Daniel 7:13 describes a mysterious figure, “one like a Son of Man, coming on the clouds of heaven,” who receives dominion, glory, and kingship from the Ancient of Days. His kingdom never fades, never fractures, and never collapses like the kingdoms of Babylon, Rome, or any modern political system we place our hopes in.

Revelation echoes this vision and calls Christ the “faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and ruler of the kings of the earth.” This King does not need a golden throne. His throne is the Cross. He does not rule by force. He rules by love that conquers sin, death, and everything that harms the human heart.

In the Gospel we meet Pilate, the representative of Roman power. On paper, Pilate is in control and Jesus is the prisoner. Yet the roles feel reversed. Pilate wavers. Jesus remains steady. Pilate asks questions. Jesus offers clarity. Then we hear the line from John 18:36 that shapes the entire feast:

“My kingdom does not belong to this world.” 

If this were the only verse we remembered from the feast, it would still be enough. Christ’s kingship is not a political program or a party platform. It is not concerned with borders or budgets. His kingdom is one of truth, life, holiness, grace, justice, love, and peace, as the Preface of the Mass proclaims.

And yet His kingdom quietly transforms everything in this world.

A Feast Born in a Time of Crisis

Although the feast uses royal imagery, it is not medieval in origin. It is less than a century old. Pope Pius XI established it in 1925 through his encyclical Quas Primas.

Why did he do this?

Because the early 20th century was a time of upheaval. The trauma of World War I still weighed heavily on the world. Secularism was spreading quickly. Communism had taken hold in Russia. Fascist movements were gaining momentum. Many people felt pressured to set their faith aside and give the State their highest loyalty.

New “kings” were rising, and none resembled Christ.

Pius XI saw the danger clearly. When societies forget God, they do not become neutral. They become unjust. When people forget God, they do not gain freedom. They lose direction. So he created the Feast of Christ the King to remind Catholics each year that Christ must reign in our minds, wills, and hearts.

Originally, the feast fell on the last Sunday of October. In 1969, Pope Paul VI moved it to the final Sunday of the liturgical year to emphasize its meaning even more clearly. Christ the King now stands as the Church’s way of saying, “Before we begin Advent, remember Who this whole story has been about.”

He is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the One who is, who was, and who is to come.

What Kind of King Is This?

If you lined up kings throughout history—pharaohs, emperors, monarchs—and then placed Jesus beside them, He would not fit the mold. There are no palaces, no military parades, and no glittering robes. Only a carpenter who washed feet, welcomed sinners, and preached forgiveness without limit.

This is precisely what makes His kingship so powerful.

We are used to power that dominates. Christ exercises power that heals.
We are used to rulers who demand allegiance. Christ asks for faith grounded in love.
We are used to leadership that benefits the strong. Christ lifts up the weak.

In Quas Primas, Pius XI explains that Christ must reign in:

  • The mind, through truth
  • The will, through obedience to God’s commands
  • The heart, through love for God above all things

This does not pull us away from the world. It sends us back into the world with renewed clarity and purpose. When Christ reigns in us, we become people who care for the poor, defend the vulnerable, and work for justice and peace.

Pope Francis often reflected that Christ wears a crown of thorns because His kingship is rooted in mercy. He restores, forgives, and embraces the lost. A King like that does not intimidate. He invites.

Where Does Christ Reign in Us?

For many Catholics, this feast becomes a gentle examination of conscience. Not a moment for guilt, but for honesty.

Does Christ reign in my schedule?
In my habits?
In my entertainment choices?
In the way I treat coworkers, neighbors, and family members?

Or do I try to hold on to certain “little kingdoms” of my own?

When we pray “Thy kingdom come,” we are not asking for a distant event. We are inviting Christ to reshape our daily lives. One simple measure of that transformation appears in the Gospel for Cycle C: Matthew 25, the parable of the sheep and the goats.

Did I feed the hungry?
Did I clothe the poor?
Have I welcomed the stranger?
Will I visit the sick and imprisoned?

Christ reigns wherever charity takes root.

The feast reminds us that His dominion is cosmic and eternal, but it also reminds us that He desires to rule within our ordinary routines and relationships. This King does not impose fear. He brings freedom.

Eight Fun Facts About the Feast of Christ the King

  1. It is less than 100 years old.
    Instituted in 1925, first celebrated in 1926.
  2. The first celebration took place on Halloween.
    October 31, 1926, purely due to the calendar.
  3. It once had a different date and name.
    Pope Paul VI gave the feast its current title and placement in 1969.
  4. It was created to counter rising secularism, atheism, and communism.
    Pius XI wanted Christians to proclaim Christ publicly in an age that was hostile to faith.
  5. Many Protestants celebrate it too.
    Anglicans, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians include it in their liturgical calendars.
  6. In Sweden, the day is called “The Sunday of Doom.”
    The focus is strongly on Christ’s Second Coming and the Last Judgment.
  7. Some Anglican traditions call it “Stir-up Sunday.”
    The collect begins with “Stir up,” and the day was traditionally used to begin stirring Christmas puddings.
  8. One of the world’s largest statues of Jesus honors this title.
    The Christ the King statue in Poland stands 33 meters tall, one meter for each year of Christ’s earthly life.

A Final Reflection: Let His Kingdom Come

As the liturgical year draws to a close, the Feast of Christ the King invites us to imagine a world shaped by truth, mercy, justice, and sacrificial love. Christ reigns not through intimidation but by transforming hearts. Not through violence but through the Cross. Not through dominance but through humility.

And His kingdom grows each time we allow His grace to shape our thoughts, habits, relationships, and choices.

Before Advent invites us to wait for Christ’s coming, this feast invites us to welcome Christ’s reign. The King of the Universe desires something incredibly personal.

He wants to reign in your heart.

Related Links 

Sunday Mass Readings for Christ the King

Seeing Beyond the Cross: Feast of Christ the King

Preparation [for the King] is King

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Reintroducing a Weekly Content Series: “Showcase Your Sacramentals”

Calling all Catholics! 📢

I’m excited to reintroduce a weekly series— “Showcase Your Sacramentals”

it’s a series where you can share photos of your crosses, medals, scapulars, rosaries and other sacred Catholic objects.

I started this series a couple of years but got off schedule as things got busy with work and family life.

I’m going to have Saturdays off to focus on this series and creating even better Catholic content!

These physical reminders of our faith hold such deep meaning and connection to God. Now is your chance to showcase the sacramentals that inspire you daily, have been passed down generations, or you just treasure.

Each week I’ll select a few of your photos to feature on the page so we can appreciate the beauty and diversity of Catholic sacramentals.

To participate, simply post a photo of your favorite sacramental(s) below and share the story behind it. Tag me on Instagram @thesimplecatholic and use #ShowcaseSacramentals so I can find your post!

Let’s create a place to highlight these beautiful signs of our Catholic tradition.

I can’t wait to see the sacramentals that help guide you to Christ. 🙏 ✝️ ♥️

#catholiclife #catholiccontent #catholicdevotions #sacramental #sacramentals #relics #beauty #catholocism

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