Can You Hear Me Now?

Scripture is replete with verses which when we hear only the opening words propel our minds in motion toward God: “For God so loved the world” . . . “The Lord is my shepherd” . . . “And she brought forth her first born son” . . .“On the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb . . .” Perhaps the opening words of today’s second reading can do the same -- set our minds and hearts in the direction of God. Once again, lend your ears to the sacred reading:

Acts 2:1-21

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and Proselytes, Cretans and Arabs – in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: ‘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, and your young men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’

Sometimes the best way to get at a story is to turn it over to children. That’s what we wisely do on Christmas, and to some extent on Easter too. Having children process with festive banners is a wonderfully celebrative way to start a service on Pentecost Sunday. With the opening hymn, you know that something’s up!

Let me turn it over to children again, this time to the Peanuts cartoon strip. Linus is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Stopping to observe his hands, he says to Lucy, "Hands are fascinating things! I like my hands... I think I have nice hands. My hands seem to have a lot of character." Waxing eloquent, Linus continues his musing, "These are hands which may someday accomplish great things... these are hands which may someday do marvelous works! They may build mighty bridges or heal the sick, or hit home runs, or write soul-stirring novels! These are hands," he cries out to Lucy, "which may someday change the course of destiny!" Not easily impressed, Lucy looks at Linus' hands and says, "They've got jelly on them!"

Sometimes, great biblical stories are like that. Great stories to be sure, but all we see is the jelly smeared on them. The word Pentecost originates from the Greek word pentekostos, meaning fiftieth. Fifty days after Passover the Jews celebrated the "Feast of Weeks" (Leviticus 23:15–21). Centuries later, after their exile to Babylon, Jewish Pentecost festival became one of the great pilgrimage feasts of Judaism, when Jews scattered through the ancient world returned to Jerusalem for worship. Since the second century A.D. Christians have celebrated the coming of the Holy Spirit fifty days after the death and resurrection of Jesus, on the Jewish feast of Pentecost.

The story of Pentecost has plenty of jelly smeared over its hands. It may be the origin and birthday of the Christian church, but its got all these messy elements: a gale-force wind rushing through a house slapped the blinds against the window panes, fiery tongue-like flames looking like gas jets resting atop ancient heads, a filling of the Spirit, a bizarre cacophony of languages to rival the United Nations. What’s going on here? Is this a miracle story of speaking new languages? Did otherwise simple and uneducated fishermen from Galilee suddenly master verb tenses and syntax of languages they had never studied, learning them faster than a Berlitz crash course? Did the disciple Nathaniel suddenly speak perfect Latin, and Andrew flawless Arabic, and Matthew some obscure dialect of Mandarin Chinese?

Was it a miracle of speaking, or was it a miracle of hearing, more specifically, a miracle of understanding? They heard in their own languages the deeds of God’s wondrous power. And all were amazed and perplexed, in spite of those suggesting it was nothing more than a 9 a.m. happy hour.

Of the miracles that happened that day, one certainly is this: The disciples went from the upper room to the open street. Then went from huddling behind closed doors, to going where the people were. It was a miracle of new found courage and confidence. Nowhere is this more evidenced than in the transformation of the disciple Peter. It was Peter who stood up. Peter who stepped forward. Peter who responded to the charges of drunkenness.

Peter! The courtyard denier of Christ. The one who along with the rest had deserted Jesus in his hour of greatest need. Once fearful and tongued-tied, once a distant follower of Jesus, Peter sets in motion a message that would change the world. How do you explain such a transformation? What’s the explanation? Freud called religion a “neurosis,” an “intoxicant,” “childishness to be overcome.” Carl Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses. On the Day of Pentecost, Peter acts as if he is on amphetamines! How do we explain that?

How do we explain a church-persecuting Saul becoming a church-planting Paul?

How do we explain a hedonistic, 4^th century pagan named Augustine turning his life over to Christ and becoming the greatest theologian of the first millennium?

How do you explain a 16^th century monk named Martin Luther caught up in the dead trappings of a church’s rituals, daring to nail 95 grievances on the church’s front door?

How do you explain a successful slave trader named John Newton giving up his lucrative transport of black cargo and writing about his transformation in the song “Amazing Grace”?

How do you explain a career criminal, a militant member of the Black Panthers, Eldridge Cleaver, surrendering to the same Spirit that got a hold of Peter?

How do you explain Dorothy Day, an American journalist, turned social activist and devout member of the Catholic Church, giving her life to social justice campaigns in the defense of the poor, the impoverished, and the downtrodden? Was it not the same Spirit of Pentecost that got a hold of her?

How do you explain Jane Addams-Hull leaving her life of privilege in order to work with the immigrant populations of Chicago’s west side and establishing Hull House? Was it not the same Spirit of Pentecost in her?

How do you explain the spiritual turnaround of the self-proclaimed agnostic C. S. Lewis, who could resist the Spirit’s prompting no longer? And then gave to the world such classics as Mere Christianity and The Screwtape Letters. Was that not the work of the Pentecost Spirit?

How do you explain Egypt’s Muslim leader Anwar Sadat shaking hands with Israel’s Menachim Begin at the Camp David peace accords? Was that not the work of the Pentecost Spirit?

How do you explain Richard Nixon’s hatchet man, Charles Colson getting born again? I don’t often agree with his politics or his views on social issues, but I find it hard to argue with someone who works to reform the prison system from the inside out. Is not the same Spirit in him that once brooded over the waters of creation?

All of them, and countless more, got their lives hijacked by the same Spirit that the prophet Joel predicted would get poured out on all flesh. On the young and on the old. On men and on women. On sons and on daughters. With seemingly no discrimination, no preference. Sprayed out like water from a hose.

It begs the question: What language do people hear us speak? I’m not referring to English or German or French or Spanish or any form of ebonics. What language does East Church speak? What spirit-poured message do we have to say to this neighborhood to the east and to the west, to the north and to the south? What Pentecost-flame might we share with this city on the rapids, with this state so anxious by its fiscal troubles? What mighty wind will carry us to the days beyond today, and to the years beyond this year?

A few years ago, National Geographic aired a special which featured a senior citizen in his 80’s climbing a mountain in Antarctica. When he made it to the top and was asked if he had anything to say to those watching, he replied, “Dream big, and dare to fail.” I like his enthusiasm, he reminds me of what the former hockey legend Wayne Gretzky once said, “You miss 100% of the shots you never take.”

I like dreaming with this church. You’re good people. You support each other. In fact, R.T. Brown might not be sitting here this morning were if not for the thoughts and prayers of his East Church family. So when I think about what kind of language East Church speaks I see a congregation that understands itself as a beachhead and outpost in the world, on the advancing edge rather the retreating edge. I see a congregation that understands missions and spirituality as getting your hands dirty, your fingernails chipped and your knees skinned. I see a body language that makes room for single parents and traditional families and committed partners. I see a congregation that is hard pressed to come up with a single reason why anyone should ever be turned away or made to feel that they didn’t belong. I see a congregation that more and more believes that diversity is not just a cool buzzword, but a Godly thing.

The Pentecost Spirit is here. Alive. Blowing where it wills. And if you show a little of that spirit-life this week, don’t be surprised if you raise an eyebrow or two. Somebody might just wonder what you’ve been drinking.

Prayer:

O wind that sways no branches, fire that does not burn, unimaginable light that does not blind, fountain of life that has no end, infinite river of joy, flawless mirror of God’s power, kind laughing agent of God’s mirth, gentle consolation of God’s mercy, O Holy Spirit of God, abide with your people, come to us now. Amen. (Garth House, Litanies for All Occasions)