sermonboy.com

Pentecost

Acts 2
When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. 2 Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. 3 They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues[a] as the Spirit enabled them.
5 Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. 6 When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. 7 Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?


Forget Berlitz and don’t buy Rosetta Stone—everything you need to learn a foreign language can be found in pop songs:

In Spain they say "Que será, será."
In Italy they say "That's Amore."
In Kenya they say "Hakuna matata."
In France they say "C'est la vie."
In Japan they say "Domo arigato."
In Germany they say "Danke schoen."

Now that I’ve implanted six earworms, you will no doubt spend the rest of the day humming Wayne Newton or Doris Day. Unless, of course, you come to the picnic, then the barking and the laughter of small children will defeat the earworms and save you from thinking of more: “Michelle, ma belle, sont des mots qui vont tres bien ensemble.”

Clearly, the various languages spoken at Pentecost continue to amaze. All were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues; and a crowd come together in bewilderment, as each one heard their own language being spoken. And then the heart of the passage, shared in two pressing questions:

“Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?

Now, because my children were once teenagers, I can hear a question like “aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans” and put it though my dripping sarcasm filter (“aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans”) and realize that this was not a positive question or sentiment. A bunch of fishermen speak in strange tongues didn’t bring a sense of awe to the occasion, but bewilderment.

So what was God up to?

Before we delve too far into this question, I should confess that I have cheated you of 32 verses of Pentecost—to the great relief of Barbara—and included only the opening verses of a rather long day. It’s a great read, and I commend it to you, but I’ll give you a summary instead of that long list of place names that trip-up even the most accomplished public readers.

A list of nations hear the message in their own tongue, and some conclude the Galileans have had too much wine. Peter disagrees, and shares Joel’s prophecy that God’s Spirit will some day pour out on all people. One sign of this, Peter argues, was Jesus of Nazareth, put to death by wicked men, but now alive once more. Peter quotes the Psalms, to testify that the same Jesus the crowd crucified is now the Lord of all. And hearing their grief and anxiety, he says: “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

So today, as then, it is a story about a promise fulfilled. 3,000 were baptized that first day, and the Spirit continues to move down to now. Regret was expressed, forgiveness extended, and the Spirit of the Living God filled the place with a message of new life for all people.

***

But I can’t stop thinking about those pop songs. And it’s mostly the early ones, from Deano and Doris Day and Wayne Newton that fascinate me, because they are so outward-looking, so optimistic, and so European. You’re starting to wonder if I’ve finally lost it, at the very end of the church year, but stay with me.

First, think of the remarkable rediscovery of Europe that was happening in the 50’s and early 60’s. Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday. Gene Kelly in An American in Paris. Hollywood was making war movies at the same moment—telling stories that needed to be told—but there were also light-hearted stories, love stories, set in Paris and Rome.

At the same time, people were traveling to Europe once more, and not just the wealthy few, but an emerging middle-class traveller. In effect, the narrative had changed. From a collection of warring nations and the rubble that followed, to a place to learn and explore once more.

And with a song like “Danke Schoen” at the top of the charts, just a handful of years after the end of the war, you get the sense that something extraordinary was happening. The spirit of the age, or zeitgeist if you need a little more German, seemed profoundly open to new beginnings and and a new age.

Of course, you could argue it was not to last. From the various shocks of the 70’s to the renewed cold war of the 80’s, this spirit of openness and optimism seemed to disappear in the very dream-like way it appeared. And any student of history will tell you that this is always the way: the ebb and flow of despair and hope, the dance between potential and pitfall, reality and possibility.

And we see the same movement in the story of Pentecost. This is not just pollyanna descent of wind and flame: though some will spend today trying to reframe the story is just such a way. Pentecost is the place where regret and hope meet, where recent events and eternal truths come together, and some hearts are transformed.

And nowhere is this ebb and flow more evident than the centre of the passage:

“Fellow Israelites, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know. This man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross. But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.” (22-24)

God in Jesus did remarkable things in your midst, you nailed him to a tree, but God raised him from the dead. For fifty days the spirit of this truth has been silent to but a few, but now the Spirit is alive and moving among us. If you have ears to hear you will repent, and forgiveness in Jesus will be yours, and out of the uncertainty of this wind and flame you will receive the Holy Spirit.

Life, death, silence, Spirit, repentance, forgiveness, uncertainty, and the gift of the Spirit. And it will continue: these baptized believers will take the message of cross and redemption to the ends of the earth, and what follows is the same back-in-forth. The church will unite in service, and divide on who may belong. The church will thrive in spreading the Gospel, and suffer for this success at the hands Nero and others. The church will define and refine what it means to be a believer and fragment in the face of heresy and strife.

In the days preceding Pentecost and everyday that follows the church has living in the tension between the hope of heaven and life on earth. Between the better angels of our nature and mistakes we never cease to make. Between the winds of God that will lift our sails and the timid ones who refuse to leave the dock.

We ask this day, we pray, for optimism to see a world renewed, for courage in the face of doubt and despair, and openness, to the movement of the Spirit, and the new directions the winds may take us. Amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 6:10 AM