Pentecost
Wind of Change — Rev. Brent Gundlah
First Reading (Numbers 11:24-30/NRSVUE)
Second Reading (Acts 2:1-21/NRSVUE)
Previously, in the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus ascended to heaven. Before he did, though, he made it clear to his disciples that they were not to leave Jerusalem; they were to wait there until the promise of God has been fulfilled. But, after having a look at today’s reading from the second chapter of Acts, it’s probably fair to say that this didn’t go exactly the way those disciples had thought it would go.
In chapter one, Jesus told them they would receive power when the Holy Spirit showed up, at which time they would go forth to be his witnesses “in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.” And then, just like that, he disappeared (again).
The bewildered disciples then headed back to Jerusalem to wait it out, as Jesus said that they should. And, while they were waiting there together in the Upper Room, they constantly devoted themselves to prayer.
Now, as we’ve seen throughout the Gospels, these disciples aren’t exactly the most patient bunch, so all of this sitting around and waiting couldn’t have been an easy thing for them to do.
As you might remember from last week’s reading, right after Jesus tells them they will soon be baptized with the Holy Spirit, and right before Jesus takes his leave, the overeager disciples can’t help but ask him whether now — like, right now — is the time when the Holy Spirit will show up and make everything right in the world.
But Jesus, being Jesus, doesn’t give really them a very satisfying answer; and as he heads off to heaven, God’s reign here on earth clearly had yet to be realized (and still has yet to be realized two thousand years later).
It’s not too difficult to imagine what the basic premise of the disciples’ prayers might have been there in the Upper Room. I mean, if the promise of God must be preceded by the arrival of the Holy Spirit bringing the disciples the power they need in order to be witnesses to God’s reign, then, it had to be something along the lines of, “Come, Holy Spirit, come. Bring it on!”
But these disciples are probably a little shocked when that Holy Spirit arrives out of nowhere at the beginning of today’s story about the first Christian Pentecost amidst violent wind and tongues of fire — and you really can’t blame them for feeling that way because that all sounds kind of scary.
They’d been banking on God making their difficult lives a little bit easier, they were hoping that God would grant them some well-deserved peace and quiet after all that’s happened lately, they were expecting the God of green pastures and still waters, but what they got was something else entirely. But, as I’m sure you know, God can be kind of unpredictable sometimes.
So there the disciples are are, just sitting around minding their own business and praying, when the Holy Spirit shows up and literally shoves them out of the house. And, frankly, they seem to have needed a shove because they’d been spending an inordinate amount of time at home as of late; indeed, if you read the very last chapter of Luke’s Gospel, you’ll notice that most of the stories about what the disciples are doing in the days after Jesus’s crucifixion take place inside the house they once shared with him.
At some level, their inclination to be homebodies is perfectly understandable. They’re in mourning over the recent loss of their friend, their Lord and Savior, you know, Jesus — not only when he was crucified but also after he’s ascended to heaven; they’re afraid that the authorities who killed Jesus will come after them too; and besides, Jesus did tell them to go home and wait for the Holy Spirit to show up — didn’t he?
Well, as it turns out, that’s not exactly what Jesus said. At the end of Luke, he commands the disciples to “stay here in the city,” and at the beginning of Acts, he orders them “not to leave Jerusalem.” But Jesus never actually tells them not to leave the house.
Granted, they’re not just sitting around the table playing cards or hanging out on the couch watching Netflix; Luke tells us that they’re engaged in worship, and they’re praying — and that’s gotta count for something, right? But God clearly wants a little more from them at this point. So here comes the Holy Spirit, amidst wind and fire, to give those disciples the kick in the rear end that God seems to think they need right about now.
Having never seen actual tongues of fire myself, I can only imagine how terrifying this whole scene would have been for the disciples; honestly, there’s a pretty good chance that I’ve would have been the one hiding under the bed and waiting for it all to stop.
But the power of the Holy Spirit appears to have the opposite effect on the disicples; instead of cowering inside the house in fear, they’re drawn outside the house and into the community in order to share the wonders of God with everyone they meet — in every language imaginable, nonetheless.
Some people in the crowd are “amazed and astonished,” by what the disciples have to say; some are “amazed and perplexed,” and so they ask one another, “What does this mean?” But others actually make fun of the disciples for what they are proclaiming, figuring that they would have to be drunk to utter such foolishness. It’s strange how people could hear the same words and manage to draw completely different conclusions from them.
But this situation isn’t merely an artifact of biblical times and bygone days — in fact, it seems to be as prevalent today as it’s ever been. And if you don’t believe me, just turn on CNN or MSNBC and watch the coverage of some politician’s words. Then switch over to FOX or Newsmax and do the same thing. Or maybe just consider how people in our day and age might actually respond to what happens in today’s Pentecost story from the book of Acts.
The Holy Spirit’s action of driving the disciples from inside the house where they’ve been hiding into the world in order to minister to and with others —
the occasion that marks the birth of the Christian Church — can also be understood as a call to our church today to live in relationship with the world more actively and more fully. And most people would probably be okay with that in theory. But how is the church actually supposed to accomplish this in practice? Here, there’s likely to be considerable a difference of opinion.
Some would interpret the Spirit’s wondrous deeds way back then as a sign that people should come to church, perhaps even a sign that people should come to a church like ours where diversity is treasured. And that’s definitely one way of looking at it.
But what if the house that the Spirit is trying to push us out of today is actually this one? What if the state of the world today is presenting us with an opportunity to reconsider what being a church, in our place and time, is really all about?
Does what we do as a community of believers inside this building on Sunday mornings (and at other times) truly makes us a church, or is it what we do both in here and out there that truly makes us a church?
So much of what we have been for so long has centered on this building, and that’s the case with many if not most other churches too. It makes sense that this place would be near and dear to the people of this congregation — after all, we’ve marked a lot of important occasions of our lives here, we’ve celebrated and mourned here, we’ve have laughed and cried here, for many years.
And during the dark and difficult days in which we currently find ourselves, this place is also a refuge from all that’s going on outside these walls. But it is not meant to a place for us to hide out long term; it’s a place to worship God, to be here for one another, to replenish our strength, to discern together what God is calling us toward, to strategize about how we can best serve the need all around us, so we can get out there and do that.
The appearance of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost reminds us that God is always appearing to us in new ways and calling us to do new things in the world. In the Hebrew scriptures, God relates to humanity through angels and prophets, calling the people to accept and follow the Law.
In the Gospels, God chooses to relate to us through Jesus and calls us to love God and our neighbor. And after Jesus went to be with God, God continues to relate to us through the Spirit, calling disciples in every age to share the gospel with all people, everywhere.
The Bible shows us, over and over again, that periods of volatility and great change can be challenging and life-giving all at the same time. Sometimes God speaks through a still, small voice, but sometimes God speaks through a burning bush;
sometimes Jesus comforts and heals, but sometimes Jesus flips over tables in the temple;
sometimes the Holy Spirit’s presence seems like a cool, gentle breeze, but sometimes it arrives as a violent wind and tongues of fire. I’ll be darned if I know why.
But if God is constantly willing to reconsider the ways in which God relates to us, trying different things to figure out what will work, shouldn’t we, as God’s people, always be open to reconsidering the ways in which we live in relationship with God and with one other?
Make no mistake about it: once you get past the wind and the flames and the speaking in tongues, that’s what Pentecost is really all about.