A bit of a disclaimer before I begin. Instead of the traditional, singular focus on the Pentecost story in Acts 2, my focus today will be on the gifts of the spirit proclaimed across all of today’s readings. And so, I begin.
“It was evening on the day Jesus rose from the dead, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear…… Jesus had just been crucified by the state because he had stood with the poor, the sick, the lame, the hungry, the stranger, women, children, sinners and outcasts; he had stood with them in ways that had challenged the power of the state. And the disciples had followed him, followed his call to heal, and feed and teach and to love those marginalized by the ruling authorities that Jesus’ teachings challenged. And they were afraid; they were afraid that what happened to Jesus would happen to them. These were not unreasonable fears. Jesus was gone; at least that is what their eyes were telling them. They were grief stricken, defeated, and without hope. And so we can understand, perhaps even identify, with their need to seek refuge behind the safety of closed doors.
It’s been a brutal week; the wars in Iran, Ukraine, and Gaza continue; and war with Cuba looms on the horizon; there was a shooting in a mosque; and the ongoing practice of immigrant family separation spanning countries and oceans, not just states; elections were delayed; and billions were diverted from live saving work. I could go on but I won’t. And it is not just this week. It is the times in which we find ourselves. Moments of difficulty and chaos designed, it seems, to consume us; to consume our attentions, our energies, and our abilities to respond. Leaving us overwhelmed and isolated. And it’s easy, even reasonable to feel hopeless and blind to love as a possibility and a way. But, if today’s readings tell us anything, hope we must; it is the call. And what we hear today, reminds us that we are not alone or powerless even if that is what the powers on high would like us to think. Jesus’ life and works, the power of the love he embodied continues as a gift of the spirit. The spirit is our help, our advocate, our strength in this call. Today’s readings as a whole, are a manifesto of sorts, proclaiming, unequivocally the ongoing gifts and the ways of the spirit.
In Acts 2 there is the awe and wonder as well as the exuberance and joy of Pentecost; the rush of a violent wind, divided tongues of fire, the inclusion of so many in their native languages. People are amazed and perplexed and wonder if the disciples are drunk. But no – like the prophet Joel, they are joyful and fearless in their proclamation that the Spirit of God pours out for all people. This is a communal revelation that is proud, loud, and courageous.
In Psalm 104, there is the manifest works of God; all the creatures of the earth; the mountains and the seas; the sun, the moon, and the stars – separated from God, it all turns to dust. But in God’s spirit the face of the ground is renewed again and again. Here hope lies in a courageous embrace of the spirit that renews without fail.
And in Corinthians, the multitude of gifts in the spirit – faith, healing, prophecy, discernment, wisdom; all meant for the common good. This proclamation calls us from fear-based isolation into the courage of community.
And finally, there is the intimacy of spirit in John 20, where Jesus arrives in the upper room in the midst of friends, gathered and grieving. And he breathes on them and says… “Peace be with you.” “Receive the Holy Spirit.” And with that, he sends them, in spite of their fear, into the world to forgive and to hold accountable. The intimacy of the moment is palpable.
In each of these readings, we are invited into a courageous embrace of the Spirit. The Latin derivations of the word courage are “cour” – which means love; and “age”, which is a suffix that suggest a condition of being – courage – love as a condition of being. The spirit calls us, on Pentecost, and every day, to follow Jesus, in spite of hopelessness and fear, into love as a condition of our being.
So, what would this look like in our lives – this courageous embrace of a spirit that renews us again and again in the life and the love of Jesus? Following Terry’s lawn chair story in last weeks homily, I have a couple of lawn chair stories of my own to provide some illustration. I spend a significant amount of my time in a lawn chair on the foot bridge over East Washington participating in a sign brigade. It’s mostly old people though young people are welcome. We wave flags and post large signs like VALUE IMMIGRANTS or FUND MEDICARE NOT WARS and we wave at passing cars. It is really pretty mundane. Except when it isn’t. And so, my first story. On one of those mundane days, I am sitting there in my chair and because there had just been another shooting the sign said something like STOP GUN VIOLENCE. It is not uncommon for people in passing cars who might not agree with our signage to respond with an inappropriate hand gesture. You can picture it. But on this day, I am not feeling sympathetic. Instead, I am thinking “really, who can be against stopping gun violence”. And I respond in kind with my own inappropriate gesture. And then, I feel it – a presence behind my shoulder and then a whisper in my ear. “You could do better.” I looked up into his smiling face. And of course I could do better. I had done better in the past. I know sign language and my usual response had been “I love you.” Now it is my only response.
On another day, May Day to be exact, a bunch retired teachers appeared on the bridge lugging their own lawn chairs. I knew them from when my kids were in grade school but I hadn’t seen them in forever. We all settled in, it was a lovely day – the breeze blowing in our hair. And then, all of a sudden, they jump up from their chairs, creating this huge ruckus. The three of them are standing up against the fencing along the bridge and they are screaming at the top of their longs; “We love you. We love you. We do!! We love you.” Again, and again. The bridge sits above a stop sign – and again someone waved an inappropriate gesture while they were stuck at the intersection as these women continued their proclamations of love. These women’s instincts were better than mine. Love was their call. And they were loud and proud. Honestly, I was astounded. It was remarkable.
And my last story, on the bridge last week the sign was DEMOCRACY NEEDS YOUR COURAGE with the letters OUR and RAGE painted in red. At one point, this old guy – as old or older than most of us on the bridge gets out of his car. He is stopped at the stop light and there are no other cars around him. He is yelling up at us that its not his rage. And then I see it, at the same time as everyone else – there is a car coming fast and he is standing outside his car in the middle of the road. He doesn’t see it. And all at once the people around me are on their feet telling him to be careful. “Be careful!!! Watch out!!! Get in the car!! You aren’t safe!!! And he sort of melts. He turns around. He sees the car. He turns back and looks up across the faces of care. And he gets back in the car. I want to say he smiled but probably not.
It wasn’t until I was seriously reflecting on Pentecost for today’s liturgy that I thought about the root meanings of the word “courage” – love as a condition of being. And I hadn’t really noticed how transformative the courageous love of the people on the bridge was for me. Their way of being transformed my angst, my fear, and my sense of hopelessness. And more than that, it transformed my relationship with the passersby below the bridge. The breath of the spirit on my shoulder; the spirit as an exuberant proclamation of love; the spirit as love and care, appeared in spite of and beyond any boundaries of politics, or religion, or class, or culture that I had imagined. Today’s readings, in the wake of our celebration of Jesus’ ascension, confirm the ongoing presence of Jesus in the Holy Spirit where, if we lean into its gifts, love is possible – it is the way; and hope becomes our answer to the call.
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