(By Jody)
Acts 2:1-21
For many years the truth (pointed out to me by commentators) has been growing on me: Pentecost is a waste of time if all we do is commemorate that time God's Spirit did something incredible. We'd be like the characters in Bruce Springsteen's song Glory Days, about whom the singer concludes: "I hope when I get old I don't sit around... thinking about... trying to recapture a little of the glory... well time slips away, and leaves you with nothing mister, but boring stories of glory days".
Pentecost isn't meant to be a sensational event we remember with fond awe. It’s current. The annual marking is more like a wedding anniversary. And I may be on dangerous ground because I don't know how the couples here like to celebrate their anniversaries. But I'm thinking it would be strange if every year you re-lived all the details of your wedding day, poured over photos, perhaps dressed in replica outfits and ate replica food. It is more likely that as time goes on your wedding day becomes less significant, and other times together become more significant – and that your life together now and going forward is most important.
Another example: Communion. When we share the bread and wine and actions and words of Communion we are not merely remembering a meal long ago, recreating it as best we can, and wishing we’d been there. We believe the message of the meal speaks to us vibrantly now – that the Risen Christ is among us and that that means every bit as much as being there.
This is not to say the story of the Pentecost recorded in Acts isn't fascinating, or relevant to us. Pentecost was an existing Jewish festival, 50 days after the end of Passover, and faithful ("God-fearing") Jews from all over ("every nation under heaven") came to Jerusalem. Very originally it was a harvest festival for Israel, and then took on the additional significance of marking the giving of the Law on Mt Sinai.
This is the day on which followers of Jesus find themselves listening to a sound like violent wind, watching what seemed to be tongues of fire resting on each of them, and experiencing themselves speaking in different languages.
My friend and brother are both learning new languages, in new countries. My friend is one of the brightest, sharpest people I know, she loves learning new things including languages. But she is exhausted by the demands of a new language. She told me she was relieved to wake up to a vomiting baby on Friday so she could take the day off a new onslaught of information. My brother recently emailed under the heading Prayer Required: "Language. Pray that I would meet a guy who knows a guy who would download it all into my brain so I'm fluent."
Many of us, especially my friend and brother, would love to just acquire a language, by magic or God's Spirit. It would be incredible. But that is not the marvel of this text, though it is wonderful Jewish people hear in their own languages about God's deeds of power. Nor are the flames of fire and rushing wind, though in our art and imaginations they are the sticking points.
These sensations are not the real wonder.
It is the ability of the followers to put themselves on the line, inside a process, without knowing where it is going. If you think about it, it would actually be incredibly freaky to start speaking a language you didn't know, to people who did. You could be saying anything!
There is risk, there is vulnerability, there is humility, there is trust, there is unknown.
There is God's Spirit.
As Brian Peterson points out (Working Preacher commentary) "For Luke-Acts, the Spirit is the power of God, the mighty burning wind that blows the church into new and unexpected places of ministry. ...[this] portray of the Spirit … is the most disturbing. Who knows where such a Spirit might blow?"
After the sensation, when the crowd is either awed and interested, or dismissive, Peter addresses both camps, using and adapting slightly the words of the prophet Joel to interpret what is going on. He claims prophecy for the people.
I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
This sounds like yet another sensation, another aspect many of us really can’t identify with…
But Peter does not seem to understand prophecy as “predicting the future”. Instead, prophecy is a truth-telling about the here and now. It is naming the places and ways where God is present, available and active in the world.
I said the flames of fire aren't the point, but I'm still left with the image of them. Not the most sensational representations but this comparatively staid one I sent out with the newsdrop. (Sorry about all the men.) I like the way the flames rest on people who just appear to be having a chat. Because that can be God’s Spirit too, present and active.
There need not be loud noises or unexpected languages when God is at work.
Pentecost invites us to be alert to God's activity now.
Just like a wedding anniversary invites us to think about our relationship now.
And Communion invites us to make room for the Risen Christ now.
On Ash Wednesday our foreheads are marked with crosses to remind us of a truth we're used to keeping hidden: that we are dust and to dust we will return.
On Pentecost we claim little flames of fire above each others heads, and recognise another truth: that we are people warmed and moved by God's Spirit.
To trust this is to put ourselves on the line, inside an unfolding process, without always knowing where it is going.
Pentecost is Challenge, Risk, Promise, Invitation.
God's Spirit is busy with God’s world.
Have you noticed?
Acts 2:1-21
For many years the truth (pointed out to me by commentators) has been growing on me: Pentecost is a waste of time if all we do is commemorate that time God's Spirit did something incredible. We'd be like the characters in Bruce Springsteen's song Glory Days, about whom the singer concludes: "I hope when I get old I don't sit around... thinking about... trying to recapture a little of the glory... well time slips away, and leaves you with nothing mister, but boring stories of glory days".
Pentecost isn't meant to be a sensational event we remember with fond awe. It’s current. The annual marking is more like a wedding anniversary. And I may be on dangerous ground because I don't know how the couples here like to celebrate their anniversaries. But I'm thinking it would be strange if every year you re-lived all the details of your wedding day, poured over photos, perhaps dressed in replica outfits and ate replica food. It is more likely that as time goes on your wedding day becomes less significant, and other times together become more significant – and that your life together now and going forward is most important.
Another example: Communion. When we share the bread and wine and actions and words of Communion we are not merely remembering a meal long ago, recreating it as best we can, and wishing we’d been there. We believe the message of the meal speaks to us vibrantly now – that the Risen Christ is among us and that that means every bit as much as being there.
This is not to say the story of the Pentecost recorded in Acts isn't fascinating, or relevant to us. Pentecost was an existing Jewish festival, 50 days after the end of Passover, and faithful ("God-fearing") Jews from all over ("every nation under heaven") came to Jerusalem. Very originally it was a harvest festival for Israel, and then took on the additional significance of marking the giving of the Law on Mt Sinai.
This is the day on which followers of Jesus find themselves listening to a sound like violent wind, watching what seemed to be tongues of fire resting on each of them, and experiencing themselves speaking in different languages.
My friend and brother are both learning new languages, in new countries. My friend is one of the brightest, sharpest people I know, she loves learning new things including languages. But she is exhausted by the demands of a new language. She told me she was relieved to wake up to a vomiting baby on Friday so she could take the day off a new onslaught of information. My brother recently emailed under the heading Prayer Required: "Language. Pray that I would meet a guy who knows a guy who would download it all into my brain so I'm fluent."
Many of us, especially my friend and brother, would love to just acquire a language, by magic or God's Spirit. It would be incredible. But that is not the marvel of this text, though it is wonderful Jewish people hear in their own languages about God's deeds of power. Nor are the flames of fire and rushing wind, though in our art and imaginations they are the sticking points.
These sensations are not the real wonder.
It is the ability of the followers to put themselves on the line, inside a process, without knowing where it is going. If you think about it, it would actually be incredibly freaky to start speaking a language you didn't know, to people who did. You could be saying anything!
There is risk, there is vulnerability, there is humility, there is trust, there is unknown.
There is God's Spirit.
As Brian Peterson points out (Working Preacher commentary) "For Luke-Acts, the Spirit is the power of God, the mighty burning wind that blows the church into new and unexpected places of ministry. ...[this] portray of the Spirit … is the most disturbing. Who knows where such a Spirit might blow?"
After the sensation, when the crowd is either awed and interested, or dismissive, Peter addresses both camps, using and adapting slightly the words of the prophet Joel to interpret what is going on. He claims prophecy for the people.
I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
This sounds like yet another sensation, another aspect many of us really can’t identify with…
But Peter does not seem to understand prophecy as “predicting the future”. Instead, prophecy is a truth-telling about the here and now. It is naming the places and ways where God is present, available and active in the world.
I said the flames of fire aren't the point, but I'm still left with the image of them. Not the most sensational representations but this comparatively staid one I sent out with the newsdrop. (Sorry about all the men.) I like the way the flames rest on people who just appear to be having a chat. Because that can be God’s Spirit too, present and active.
There need not be loud noises or unexpected languages when God is at work.
Pentecost invites us to be alert to God's activity now.
Just like a wedding anniversary invites us to think about our relationship now.
And Communion invites us to make room for the Risen Christ now.
On Ash Wednesday our foreheads are marked with crosses to remind us of a truth we're used to keeping hidden: that we are dust and to dust we will return.
On Pentecost we claim little flames of fire above each others heads, and recognise another truth: that we are people warmed and moved by God's Spirit.
To trust this is to put ourselves on the line, inside an unfolding process, without always knowing where it is going.
Pentecost is Challenge, Risk, Promise, Invitation.
God's Spirit is busy with God’s world.
Have you noticed?