Acts 2:1-21
My first conscious experience of Pentecost happened at a Diocesan youth retreat when I was fifteen years old. It wasn’t the feast of Pentecost, and the reading from Acts was not read. But all the same, it was my first moment of being so filled with the Holy Spirit that I felt like I was on fire, although I didn’t quite understand it at the time. I had brought a friend with me to camp, and it was her first time. She had not been raised in our tradition, and she was very brave to come with me. She was agnostic at the time, not altogether sold on the idea of organized religion and definitely skeptical of me and my camp songs about discipleship. Throughout the weekend, we talked and questioned and wrestled with what the counselors and priests were teaching us. We didn’t always come down on the same side, but it was my first opportunity to truly speak about why I believed what I did. I realized there were gaps in my knowledge, questions I didn’t have answers to, whole sections of the Bible I had never understood or read. With every conversation, I felt both more and less sure of myself and my Christianity, and by the end of the weekend I could not wait to get back to Sunday School to continue the journey. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was having an experience of God’s presence, and that presence was revealed in my friend. It was during that weekend, at the closing Eucharist, that I knew for the first time that I was called to become a priest in this tradition. The rest is history, or at least another sermon.
But the Pentecost feeling, that overwhelming sense of the Spirit’s presence in the moment, is not limited to apostles of the ancient world or teenaged girls at church camp. The Pentecost moments happen in our lives over and over. Sometimes they really do feel like strong wind or flame, and sometimes they are much more subtle, much simpler and easier to miss. Our Acts reading gives us a pretty strong hint of what to look for, what the signs are of the Holy Spirit’s action in our lives.
Notice the manner in which the Spirit chooses to descend upon these disciples. Not a dove descending, but tongues of fire. Tongues. Not torches or sparks or shapeless flames, but tongues. And what do these men and women do when they are alight with the power of God? They speak. The tongues of fire, the tongues of speech, the speaking and hearing and understanding across language and culture and gender and religious barriers- at its very heart, the Pentecost moment is speech, is communication. The Holy Spirit comes to rest upon the disciples in the sight of all, and sparks a conversation.
Now, this is not new. After Mary received the news from the angel, she went to her cousin and sang her a song of prophecies and promises fulfilled. After the shepherds saw the infant Jesus, they immediately went out to tell others all that they had seen and heard, giving glory to God. After Jesus healed people throughout his earthly ministry, whether it be from physical ailments or demonic influences or from social isolation, the recipients of his healing burst forth into sharing the good news of their encounter with anyone who might listen. When the women found the tomb empty, they ran to tell the others that the Lord was risen indeed. When Paul encountered the risen Lord and received new sight from his disciple, he went on to evangelize as much of the known world as he could reach. The biblical witness is pretty clear that the human response to divine encounters is to talk about it, to share it with others through words and songs of praise.
If the tongues of fire weren’t clear enough for us, this Pentecost day is filled with the speaking and hearing of languages, the diversity of peoples being drawn together to the same Good News. People from all over the Roman Empire are able to stand shoulder to shoulder and hear the same words as if they were spoken in the mother tongue of each, the language of their heart. Those aflame with the Holy Spirit are overflowing with the stories of the mighty deeds of God, telling the whole story of God’s love for humanity. Some in the crowd are unimpressed, blaming the public outbursts on drunkenness and discrediting the speakers. So what does Peter do? He raises his voice, and speaks up, preaching to the crowds about a God who empowers the young and the old, people of all genders and races and social stations. The gift of speaking about God has been given again and again in the scriptures and in the lives of the faithful, and the giving of the Holy Spirit ensures that this gift is for all people and available to us forever. Ultimately, this is what we remember as we celebrate the birth of the church. We celebrate the Holy Spirit’s gift of communicating the Good News of God through human voices. Through our voices.
The Holy Spirit is our conversation partner, the breath that gives volume to our voices and the inspiration behind our faithful questions and imperfect answers. The Holy Spirit moves and enlivens us for every aspect of ministry, and she is always ahead of us whenever we encounter the wilderness places. And our response to her has always been and must always be to open our lips and tell the truth about who God is and what God has done for the world she loves. Whether we continue the conversation with our voices, or with sign language or the written word, whether we speak with words or with our bodies, whether it makes us comfortable or convinces others we must be drunk or out of our minds, the human response to God is to tell someone. Tell your story of healing, your story of doubt, your story of God’s never-failing love for you, your story that is linked to the stories of every single person you have ever encountered. Talk about what God has done for you, and speak up even when your voice shakes and your testimony feels insufficient. When you use your voice to share God with someone, you are continuing the conversation that began with tongues of fire. So do not hold your tongue about your faith. The world needs to hear your voice.
Mother A Writes 