Pentecost and the revolutionary presence
Pentecost | Acts 2:1-21 and John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
The Holy Spirit sure knows how to make an entrance, doesn’t she?
We’ve got:
- “a sound like the rush of a violent wind,”
- “Divided tongues, as of fire,”
- and multilingual apostles.
It is a grand spectacle and an incredible performance. She alerts everyone to the moment, draws their attention, and then dazzles with incredible sights and sounds. Nobody is going to miss this! How can they?
And like every performance, even the greatest, there are critics who don’t get it. Who don’t see the vision or prehend the wider point. When a show is so grand, we might lose the thread; think it ought to conform to our expectations. Sometimes losing the wonder of the moment.
Even the best shows have problems, we argued. We need to critique them.
In the midst of the Pentecost, the most profound piece of the performance wasn’t found in fire or wind or even the sudden linguistic fluency. It was in the receiving.
Many Languages
One of the church’s favorite things to do for Pentecost is to show off the many languages. So we have people read this passage in other languages—we’ve done that here several times. But this mistakes the fact for the reality.
The disciples didn’t know these languages. But we recruit from among us disciples who know another language to read out of their knowledge, not the spirit.
And the people hearing these languages were the ones who knew them. And most of us hear this cacophony of sound, and not even hear the words!
We obscure the true magic of Pentecost: understanding. People connecting across language barriers. Immigrants coming to a metropolitan city and then they actually hear their native tongue.
This is a moment of generosity and inclusion for the outsider, particularly the immigrant. The one most prone to be told in a language they don’t know to learn the language. Or who are taken advantage of because of a language barrier.
Pentecost is about the whole world getting a message that only insiders are used to delighting in. Mutuality in relationship with God; understanding and support from neighbors; joy and inclusion of self.
The Spirit’s Plan
This week’s gospel gives us an action plan for the Spirit I’m sure we haven’t given much time to. Jesus says about the Spirit, the Advocate:
And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment:
The Advocate’s job includes proving the world wrong about three particular things. Things the world feels quite confident in our present understanding. And, really, always have.
Sin, righteousness, and judgment. Yeah, we definitely think we know all about these.
We can tell everyone how wrong they are. When they screw up. When they’ve hurt someone else. How to conduct themselves. Really, what it means to be Godly.
And speaking of Godly, we totally know when we are. When we are the good ones. How we always do things for the right reasons. We are such good people (unlike those people over there—you know who I mean).
And besides, aren’t we the best judges of character and commitment? How to do things the right way and be the right kind of people? Aren’t we all supposed to be critics?
Jesus is like…ahhhh, no.
The Advocate [that’s the Holy Spirit’s metal name] comes to prove how wrong our base assumptions are about sin, righteousness, and judgment.
And Jesus continues:
about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.
The ruler of this world is condemned!
The world is wrong about these things because their focus isn’t on God. Its ruler isn’t God. To the world, sin is something outside of Jesus’s teaching, that righteousness is dependent on human messiahs, and judgment is the work of human experts and leaders and rulers.
The Spirit communicates.
Arriving so that all may hear, not just the righteous. And she offers a course correction for our own idolatrous judgment. Thinking that we are responsible for judging—particularly the humanity, worth, and dignity of others.
Which, of course, is sin. And which is where it all starts, isn’t it? Our confidence and certainty. In our own righteousness and power. In exclusion and preference. For our own language and culture, existing priorities and ways of thinking. Practices passed down to us that aren’t bad. Or good. Not righteous. Or ours to judge. But also aren’t the Spirit speaking to us now.
She is of God and with God. She is God. God’s persona of inspiration and protection. An Advocate who speaks for us when our voice shakes. Who compels words from our bodies when we don’t have them for ourselves.
She is here to speak. To advocate. To compel and correct.
And we hear her. In our language, whatever that is.
For most of us, that’s likely to be English. But for some of us, it’s probably pictures. And nature. Art. Music. Rhythms and found sounds. To inspire awe and compel us to rethink what we know. About connection, God, and humanity. About the way things are and the assumption that is how it always was and always will be.
She speaks, and when she’s on, she can command a room.
Correcting us.
Whether we like the Spirit’s performance probably depends on whether we like her critique. If we’re the immigrant being turned away or the defendant who can’t speak English, an advocate who fixes the system is the definition of a godsend.
But if we’re committed to the idea of our own specialness; that people ought to become like us—and we can judge them if they don’t; then we’re not likely to appreciate this Good News.
The Advocate comes to communicate God’s dream. To advocate for it and for the people most hurt by our present arrangement.
This is for God’s joy, remember. And for God’s joy to be complete, our joy must be complete. Not just the top 0.1% or 10%. And not just the middle class or most of us. All of us, 100%.
Which means these words are for us. This advocacy is for us. And it is for our neighbors. And their neighbors.
But it isn’t an advocacy for our way. Or for certainty. It isn’t for control, wealth, or power. The Spirit’s advocacy is for God’s dream being with us, infusing us, inspiring us, commanding us. That we are as joyful in the Sabbath beauty of giving rest to our neighbors as we are in having it ourselves. In giving joy and health and hope and love to our neighbors. All of them.
This is God’s joy. To see all of us participate in a global makeover. Not for certainty and protection, of our judgment and sinfulness—but for God’s love and good grace. That we be good neighbors who love our neighbors with the same moral clarity we have for protecting ourselves.
So let us delight and dance! Let us be taken with the music carried by the wind. Rejoice in the new joy enveloping us and expanding our hearts for more love. And let the holy fire kindle newness in you. New joy. New compassion and hope. Dignity and purpose. Love. Most of all, love. For the Spirit’s presence, on stage and in our hearts.