We celebrate it on the Sunday nearest. This year, it was June 23.
This is the song we sing as we enter worship.
Hymn for St Alban[Tune: Hyfrydol]
1 In a town below the hillside,
As
the sun began to set,
Came
a priest, beseeching shelter
From
a man he'd never met.
Alban
hid him from the soldiers;
Learnt
from him of God's own Son,
Took
his place before the Governor,
With
his life in Christ begun.
2 With rough hands and ropes they bound
him,
Dragged
him to the river's side.
There,
he looked upon the water,
Saw
the flow of Jordan's tide,
Walked
barefoot across the streambed
And
continued on his way.
Reached
the trees upon the hilltop
In
the early light of day.
3 'You are charged with grave offences',
said
the Judge upon the hill.
'Do
you bow to Caesar's power,
his
divine and perfect will?'
'I
am Alban,' cried the martyr, '
And
I worship and adore
neither
Caesar nor his servants –
but
the true and living Lord.'
4 With a sword-stroke, there they killed
him:
Felled
his body to the ground,
Jeered
and mocked the martyr's witness,
Laughed
with cruel, spiteful sound.
But,
just where his blood had fallen,
Like
the rain upon the earth,
Flowers
sprang at once to blossom –
Signs
of Alban's grace and worth.
5 On a hill beside a river
Stands
the shrine of Britain's saint;
Honoured,
loved by those who know him,
Freed
at last from all restraint.
For
he stands with saints in glory,
With
his prayers, our feet are shod.
May
our courage never fail us
As
we journey home to God.
©
Christopher William Herbert, 2006
Happy St. Alban’s Day!
Well, technically, yesterday was St. Alban’s Day, but we
get to celebrate it today because it’s our Feast Day, and who doesn’t want to
talk all about Alban and what he did to become a Saint?
A brief story about St. Alban is in your insert*, so I won’t
go into a lot of his story now, except to say that Alban lived in a time of
religious persecution, when Christian clergy were being arrested and often
killed. Alban was a Roman citizen, living
near London, who illegally hid a priest in his home. While there, the priest maintained his prayer
and worship life, and Alban converted to Christianity.
When the authorities learned that a priest was living in
Alban’s home, they came to arrest the priest.
Our quick-thinking Alban switched clothes with the priest, enabling the
priest to escape. In his place, Alban
was arrested.
The judge figured out that Alban was not the priest, and as
punishment, he ordered Alban’s execution, while continuing the search for the
priest.
This might seem like an odd moment to pause in the story,
but I want you to take a moment and look around at the sanctuary walls and
windows. You might notice there is a
recurring theme all around us. Water. You’ll see the Waters of Life tapestry
hanging on the wall, there. You’ll see images
of water swirling in our stained glass.
Water is an important part of the story of St. Alban.
You see, when the authorities were taking Alban to be
beheaded, the bridge over the river was filled with people, so the battalion could
not cross over. Alban stood at the bank
of the river, made the sign of the cross, and the waters parted so they could walk
to the other side. Then, when they were
climbing the hill, Alban became thirsty, so, miraculously, a spring of water
burst out of the earth and Alban drank.
These miracles caused one of the guards to convert and
believe in God. He would be executed
with Alban on that hill.
Miracles upon miracles, telling the power of God in the
world.
All these things are believed to have happened in the
second or third century. On the place of
his decapitation, Christians built St. Alban’s Cathedral in England. The spring that burst out of the earth became
a place of pilgrimage, a place of more miracles. The well has since dried up. For a time, the remains of Alban and the
priest were buried on the site.[1]
We know there are many churches with the names of other
saints with broader visibility than Alban.
I wonder what it was about Alban’s story that drew this Indianapolis church’s
early congregation to this name?
When we learn of the compassion of Alban, the invitation to
the priest to live as a part of Alban’s household, the conversion of Alban and
the willingness to lay down his life in place of the priest, we might have the
answer.
Alban lived out his faith, even if only for a short
time.
He protected and respected the dignity of the persecuted.
He welcomed a stranger into his home.
He fed the hungry.
Even though he might not have recognized his acts of faith
from the beginning of this part of his life’s story, he was expressing kindness
and deep understanding that life is sacred.
He put God first, before his family, before his city,
before his country. And he protected
that relationship with God with his life, showing the people who knew him, and
many who did not, that it is always God to whom we show allegiance.
Maybe these are just some of the reasons our forebears of
St. Alban’s in Indianapolis looked to when they chose the name for this place.
Perhaps they had hope that this church on the corner would
be able to live into these acts of faith in ways that would build up the
community around us.
When I arrived here a few years ago, the story of St. Alban
was not something that was regularly talked about. In some ways, I feel it is strange for me to
tell this story every year, and yet, I think it is important for us to be
regularly reminded that this is who we are named for. We need to know that Alban laid down his life
to protect another person, to boldly stand up for his faith, and that by doing
so, he helped others convert and give their lives to God.
Our lessons today tell us in no uncertain terms that living
out lives of faith are what is expected, even though there are consequences
that may not be easy to bear. It’s God
first.
And putting God first can and will cause problems in our
families, our friendships and in society.
We live under different rules when we accept the commandment that we are
to love and live for God first. And then
Jesus adds that we are to love one another the way God loves us.
Alban did these things.
He loved God first. He loved
others like God loves. And look what
happened to him.
People of God, lovers of Jesus, followers of the Way,
receivers of the Holy Spirit, we are here to learn, grow and be challenged to
live like Alban and all the other martyrs who have selflessly devoted their
lives to teaching the love of God to the world.
We are challenged to take the greatest risk of all—to love
one another. Not because it makes us
warm and fuzzy inside. That’s not the
kind of love God gives. We are commanded
to love like God loves—accepting that each person we meet is our sibling,
created as a beloved child of God.
When we see one another as siblings in God, all of us
beloved children of the Creator of everything, then we are hopefully more able
to strive for justice and peace in the world because we are able to respect the
dignity of every human being and all that is created in this world.
Let us
pray.
God, we’ve put our lives in your hands. We know you won’t drop any
of us, and you’ll never let us down. But
we know we will make mistakes throughout our lives, known and unknown. We may not always be willing to give of ourselves
like Alban did all those centuries ago, but we will continue to try. We will try, with your help and
guidance. For our lives are in your
hands, and you won’t drop us or let us down.
Amen.
*Who
was St. Alban?
Alban is the earliest
Christian in Britain who is known by name and, according to tradition, the
first British martyr. He was a soldier in the Roman army stationed at
Verulamium, a city about twenty miles northeast of London, now called St.
Alban’s. He gave shelter to a Christian priest who was fleeing from
persecution, and was converted by him. When officers came to Alban’s house, he
dressed himself in the garments of the priest and gave himself up. Alban was
tortured and martyred in place of the priest, on the hilltop where the
Cathedral of St. Alban’s now stands. The traditional date of his martyrdom is
303 or 304, but recent studies suggest that the year was actually 209, during
the persecution under the Emperor Septimius Severus.
The site of Alban’s martyrdom soon became a shrine. King
Offa of Mercia established a monastery there about the year 793, and in the
high Middle Ages St. Alban’s ranked as the premier Abbey in England. The great
Norman abbey church, begun in 1077, now serves as the cathedral of the diocese
of St. Alban’s, established in 1877. It is the second longest church in England
(Winchester Cathedral is the longest, by six feet), and it is built on higher
ground than any other English cathedral. In a chapel east of the choir and high
Altar, there are remains of the fourteenth century marble shrine of St. Alban.
The Venerable Bede gives this account of Alban’s trial:
“When Alban was brought in, the judge happened to be standing before an altar,
offering sacrifice to devils ... ‘What is your family and race?’ demanded the
judge. ‘How does my family concern you?’ replied Alban; ‘If you wish to know
the truth about my religion, know that I am a Christian and am ready to do a
Christian’s duty.’ ‘I demand to know your name,’ insisted the judge. ‘Tell me
at once.’ ‘My parents named me Alban,’ he answered, ‘and I worship and adore
the living and true God, who created all things.’ ”[1]