Special Day!

...And you missed it! Probably.

Y'see, Wednesday, November 30th, was the Feast of Saint Andrew.

And you're thinking, "Soooo... Like... I'm not scots."

Yeah yeah yeah. He's the patron saint of Scotland (his relics supposedly ended up there), and of Russia (he supposedly made a pilgrimage there). The New Testament tells us he was a fisherman (he's patron of anglers, too), and was the brother of fellow Apostle Simon Peter, and was a follower of John the Baptist before he was one of Jesus' disciples.

Okay. That's where it starts to get good. A follower of John the Baptist. When I was thinking of becoming a Benedictine Monk (long story), one of the things that alarmed and enthralled me was that I would be asked to take a new name in religious life. No longer would I be Drew, but I'd become... some saint's name. I toyed with the idea of the gender-bending Boniface (hid out in a convent disguising himself as a nun for decades), and I sort of liked Drogo, who was a Belgian shepherd, but thought that sounded a wee bit like some martian assasin that Ming the Merciless would send after Flash Gorden). And so I settled on John the Baptist. (I was a francophile then, so even though they were English Benedictines, I'd opt for Jean-Baptiste.)

Why John the Baptist?

Duh! How cool was John the Baptist? He was totally Out There! Running around in the desert (!) wearing goat skin (kinda like the biblical equivalent of chaps if you ask me), eating locusts and wild honey, and calling the elite of his day vipers. And doing that thing, dunking people in the Jordan River. Probably naked, right? Long time readers of Singletails will remember the poem I wrote for Special Guy way back when in the early months of this blog, a homoerotic meditation on John baptizing Christ. (Damn I wish I could meet a man who would inspire me to write poetry again.)

So anyway, Andrew was probably something of a wildman disciple. Maybe taking out the old goatskin and putting it on now and then.

But here's the kicker. Obviously. He was martyred by pagans who lashed him to a saltire, an X-shaped cross. He preached, from the cross, for a few days before he died.

See? The Saint Andrew's Cross!

What looks as good as a man lashed to a Saint Andrew's Cross? For how many of us did installing that cross mark a major transition in our lives? Remember the first time you stretched out your arms, your mouth dry, breathing hard, anticipating your first whipping or flogging or whatever?

So here's my recommendation. I think we should add a little something to the list of things that Andrew is patron of. Namely, SM. SM needs a patron saint! If he can watch out for those fishermen, he can look after all of this, too.

Oh, another bit of Andrew lore involves marriage. If a woman sleeps naked on Saint Andrew's day, she will dream of the man she'll marry (say some germans). And an unmarried woman should note where she hears a barking dog on St. Andrew's night, because her future husband will come from that direction (say some scots). And english children have some nutty thing they do with floating tea cups. Same deal though.

So Andrew is already all about looking for that big connection. He wants to see it happen. And Connection is what we're all about, right folks?

Here's our little Prayer To Saint Andrew...

Saint Andrew, fisherman who became a fisher of men,
guide us on the path we follow, as we seek intensity, intimacy,
excellence, and exhilaration; may your cross always mark for us
a transition to a new life; send us dreams always of the one who
will come and change our lives, giving us a future unimaginable.

Blessed Saint Andrew: Pray For Us.

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