Reading Luke/Acts Together #54 - Pentecost
Having encountered Jesus, heard his words, observed his life, grieved his death and been mystified by his resurrection, the disciples didn't know what to do next - so they returned to their lives, perhaps with a more intense faith, pulsating memories, and an unshaped awareness that they should probably do... something. Quite naturally they gathered in Jerusalem, like all other Jews, for Pentecost, a great Jewish festival celebrating the harvest; the ordinary blessings they had always been aware of probably seemed more wonderful.
But what happened in the routine course of worship was something they could never have predicted, or imagined, or manufactured no matter how hard they tried: an experience so explosive, so extraordinary, that words could barely capture the moment. It "like a rushing wind!" - or was it "like fire"? When the Spirit rifles through you, or the Church, words fail us; pages of plans flutter out the window; people behave strangely.
Observers smirked and concluded they were "drunk." I love Frederick Buechner’s complaint about the use of grape juice in Communion: it is a "bland, ghastly symbol of the blood of Jesus Christ. Wine is booze, dangerous; it makes the timid brave and the reserved amorous. It loosens the tongue and breaks the ice. It kills germs. As symbols go, it is a rather splendid one."
What might happen to us timid, reserved Christians if the Spirit happened upon us? Clearly the first Pentecost event wasn't something for its recipients to enjoy; the Spirit didn't rush so they might bask in the warm fuzzy sense of God's presence. Rather, the Spirit catapulted them out into the street, zealous to share the story of Jesus with any and everybody. They spontaneously became vehicles God would co-opt to make the Spirit manifest: mobile temples of the Spirit! If we can be available to God, simply open, then a profound burst of energy will direct us (together!) out to engage the world, people we know and don't know, the hungry and hurting, the pompous and cynical - even the very religious people who've never became brave or amorous.
We can never be sure what Acts means when it says "They spoke in other tongues." Some Christians today take this phenomenon as a litmus test: if you haven't spoken in tongues, you aren't really Christian. Others think of this as something special that happened to (and only to) that first generation of disciples. I like to think of this moment as a challenge to us to communicate the Gospel to people today who don't know our lingo, who aren't insiders. How will we find the words, the language, to tell people the life-changing story of Jesus? So often our jargon gets in the way; the Spirit invites us to speak in new, creative ways that bring understanding, not confusion, division or judgment, hope to the hopeless, purpose to the hollow.
When the Gospel latched on to these people, their lives were totally changed: social status vanished, your possessions were no longer your own, everything was turned upside down - raising a few hard questions about how comfortably we Christians today continue to fit in to a culture that is far from Christ, and whether we have blocked the loving Spirit from fashioning in us the very life we crave.