The Wild and Generous Spirit
Pentecost Sunday
Basically, it’s a street party—lavish, noisy, and with accusations of public drunkenness. What started in a house, as the believers are gathered “all together in one place,” spills out onto the streets of Jerusalem. The Spirit that Jesus promised had come to them in a church meeting, of all places, and instead of keeping the believers safely contained there, led them out into the city where their sudden language ability attracts an astonished crowd. Here is God being revealed, not on a mountaintop, not in the wilderness, not in a remote manger scene, but in the mix and mess of a bustling city. Jews who had come to Jerusalem from far and wide across the Empire hear their own mother tongues being spoken—their first language, their heart language—though the speakers are all Galileans. They hear God’s deeds extolled, not with words that feel awkward and foreign to them, but with words that feel like “home.” It’s a powerful thing—to be understood and to understand—and the crowd is ignited, but it’s still not clear what is happening. Intoxication or miracle? A cause for sneering or astonishment? How does it happen that a group of disciples in an ordinary church meeting find themselves thrust out onto the streets of Jerusalem, and indeed, into the wider world?
Welcome to Pentecost! Welcome to the reality in which God pours out the extravagant gift of the Spirit of Life—life that cannot be contained, managed, or controlled, only received. Life that jumps its borders, leaves its tombs. Resurrection life. Welcome to the realm of the Spirit, the One who continues to this day to cross every kind of boundary to invite people of diverse languages, backgrounds, and cultures into the vastness of God’s mercy. When Peter stands up to interpret what has happened, he quotes the ancient prophet Joel, but his sermon is all about how God’s future is now. God’s beautiful dream of a creation made whole moves forward towards fulfillment as the Spirit is poured out, not just to give the Church insight, but to make us all prophets. “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy…”
What we sense in this scene is God’s extravagance. If our view of God leans towards that of a Divine Miser, this scene in Acts blows it away. God is exceedingly generous! Count how many times Luke employs the words, “everyone” and “all”? The Spirit comes and God’s sons and daughters, young and old, are included in the blessing. Why just a little tweak for the gathered believers, when deeper transformation is possible? Why one language when there can be a multiplicity of them? The Spirit could have come upon the believers and given them one, elite language—let’s call it “Churchese”—and made it so that everyone who heard this specialized dialect could suddenly understand. That is not the miracle. It’s wilder than that. It’s more gloriously human than that. Instead, the Spirit falls upon all the believers, transforming them into multi-lingual prophets, pulling them from their private fellowship into a wider, public space. Risky, yes, but in doing this, God is opening the door for a radically inclusive communion. In coming the way the Spirit comes—in diversity, rather than uniformity-- God honors the plurality of human languages already in use, so that those who hear understand in their own language (Acts 2: 6, 7,11). Isn’t that what we long for, especially for those who have felt “unheard” by the Church?
It's worth our wondering: What kind of “hearing” is the Spirit creating for the Church in these days? How are we being gifted for a fuller dialogue with our neighbors, even our enemies? Are we speaking “Churchese”, largely among ourselves, or do we sense the Spirit leading us to deeper engagement in our various settings? And taking an even wider view, what would listening and speaking to a “groaning creation” be like? (Romans 8) Can we imagine an engagement with creation that’s both hopeful and patient?
It's definitely my tendency to ponder the big questions of the Church and then start to stiffen with paralysis. It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. We’re not up to this. All true. But today, Church, take to heart our “origin story” in Pentecost and be overwhelmed by something different—by the grace of it all. We are born of God’s Spirit, who is poured out on us in abundance. Receive! Drink up! Walk forward! This Spirit takes what belongs to Christ—everything He still wishes to say to us—and declares this to us; we are not bereft of Christ’s companionship. This Spirit guides us into the truth (John 16:12-15), entering uncharted places—beside us and within us.
May we find, in the ever-creating Spirit, One who still hovers over the chaos, making all things new. Amen.