Acts 2:1-21
(You can find a wonderful dramatic reading of the Pentecost story at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-I65buSrhc)
Romans 8:22-27
(Paul in his travels around the Mediterranean, and the churches he helped establish -- like the church in Rome, have no illusions about life. They know the realities of loss, sorrow, poverty and powerlessness in the world and in their own lives. But faith in God, commitment to the risen Jesus, and openness to Spirit give them a hope not everyone has, In his letter to the followers of Jesus in Rome, Paul encourages them in their faith. He reminds them that God's Spirit is at work in their life and the life of the world much more than we can see and understand.)
Today is Pentecost Sunday. The birthday of the church. The day the Spirit of God and Jesus came down
and filled the hearts and lives of 120 followers of Jesus, and turned them into
a spiritual powerhouse.
I don’t know, do
you think we should have done more?
We took down the
white-draped cross of the Easter season, to show the transition to a new time
and new age. We moved the pulpit back up
to let the Word of God be our guide into life.
We put on the Pentecost antependium, to remind ourselves that we are
people and a community of holy Spirit.
But should we
have done more? One year we had balloons
to bounce around in the sanctuary – a sign of the joy and freedom of Spirit-ful
living. Another time I think we had a
birthday cake. I know we’ve had red and
yellow streamers around the sanctuary to remind us of the tongues of fire. And what about the fans blowing full speed,
and some kind of whooshing-sounding chant to help us feel and hear the rush of
the Spirit around us? To re-create some
of the excitement of the first Pentecost gathering, and maybe symbolize part of
what Pentecostals experience every Sunday?
I don’t
know.
I was struck this
week by something Thom Shumann, a colleague in ministry and an American
Presbyterian pastor wrote in an on-line conversation this week:
“I dread Pentecost [he wrote]. There, I've said it.
“Oh, at one time, it was one of my
favorite Sundays. I loved inviting
people to wear red (even the first time I did that, taking off my traditional
black preaching robe to reveal a bright red one). I liked using the balloons, and loved the
processionals, and coming up with news ways to represent this day. But not anymore.
“See, now I find Pentecost to be one
massive guilt trip.
“After all, I've never preached a
sermon that made 3 people, much less 3000 want to be baptized. I've never gotten folks so excited about the
good news that they suddenly start wanting to share it right as soon as they
get out the door. I've never
(fortunately, I think) been in a church where suddenly a multitude of languages
is spoken. So I find Pentecost makes me
feel pretty guilty.
“And folks in the churches feel the
same way. Most of the congregations I
have served have felt burnt out; they don't feel flames dancing on their
heads. They are lucky if one or two new
folks show up once in a while, much less multitudes. They, like me, probably wouldn't know what to
do if the windows suddenly burst open and the Holy Spirit came racing in.
“Part of it, I think, comes from the
fact that the story of Pentecost has been turned into a model for the
successful church. The place that can
reach out and bring in all the seekers.
The place that can offer program after program. The place that is full of power, the place
that can pull off pyrotechnics, the place where the preacher entertains
multitudes and sends them off thrilled beyond belief. But that ain't me, or any of the churches I
have been blessed to serve.
“And thus, every time I read the Acts
passage, I feel overwhelmed by guilt.
And I wonder if the folks who read and hear it feel that as well.
“So, this year, no more guilt. This year, no more focus on the great words
that converted thousands. No confetti
wands or red robes; no balloons released to the sky; no more highlighting the
flames, the sound, the rushing wind, the speaking in tongues.
“This year, just a gentle reminder to
folks that we have many things to say that are gospel to those around us, and
we will continue to speak of grace to despairing world; we will continue to
model peace to those who are filled with fear and anger; we will continue to
stand up to oppression and to walk with those burdened with injustice; we will
listen to our neighbors from Somalia, Eritrea, the Middle East, and to those
from Appalachia and the hard streets of poverty and addiction…”
… or, we here at Fifty might say we
will continue to listen with caring hearts to our neighbors from Syria and the
rest of the Middle East, and from our First Nations, from downtown Hamilton,
and from the other side of whatever divides Winona into fragments.
Like Paul as he travelled around the
Mediterranean and like the Christian community established in Rome, we will
continue to feel the stresses and strains of our society, and lament along with
everyone else the sorrows and the sufferings of our day. And instead of pulling back into fear,
anxiety and polarizing isolation like some do, we will continue to have faith
in the Word and Spirit to renew the face of the Earth; we will continue to
reach out in hope to what good, new thing God and history are bringing to be,
even when we can’t see it yet; and in the name of Christ we will continue to build
bridges of love and connections of compassion to all.
It’s what the
very first verses of Genesis are about, where we’re first introduced to the Spirit
of God breathing and brooding over the dark and chaotic waters of life – an
Earth full of potential but so much at odds with itself that the divine dream
of anything good coming of it seems foolish.
From then on for the rest of the story, the sum total and point of
Spirit throughout history and eternity is to be weaving order from the strands
of chaos, shining light into darkness no matter how deep, calling life out of
death no matter how final it seems, and helping goodness and God-ness to emerge
within the miraculous mess we call life on Earth.
And we will continue to be moved by
that Spirit – going to visit the lonely widow down the road or in a nursing
home; donating food to the mom-and-pop-style, but absolutely necessary Stoney
Creek Food Bank; making quilts to donate to the Wesley Centre and Inasmuch
House; giving away a meaningful part of our precious Peach Festival money in
mission to others less fortunate than ourselves; giving rides to people who
need them to get to the doctor, the hospital, or worship; welcoming the other
into our community and our company for no other reason than God loves them and
brings them to us and us to them as a gift.
And, to return to Thom Shumann’s
thoughts, “it's not always very ‘successful’ ministry, it's not always noticed
by the denomination, or the media, but it is what we are called to do, and to
be, and to live out. Because the Spirit
these days seems to be moving with gentleness while our culture is overwhelmed
with cruelty; the Spirit seems to be speaking in the tongues of the broken, the
lonely and the forgotten, not the powerful and the pundits; the Spirit appears
maybe most often as that gentle nudge at our back sending us to serve the folks
that everyone talks about but does nothing to help.
“So no more guilt. Just a quiet recognition that Pentecost is
not always spelled with a capital P.”
As much fun as we
sometimes have celebrating Pentecost with balloons, red and yellow streamers,
fans turned on full blast and chants of whooshing sounds, the point of
Pentecost is not to make church or even just our worship exciting.
The point of
Pentecost then and now is to save the world.
The point of
Pentecost then and now is to draw us, as followers of Jesus, into Spirit’s
great and cosmic work of bringing the world into harmony with the good will and
Word of God, in whatever ways are ours to follow.
And we get the
point.
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