Pentecost Sermon: May 19, 2013
PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!
Some of you are wearing your Pentecost red this morning, but even so, you may not be feeling especially powerful, particularly if you have ever tried to cross one of these boundaries and experienced just how hard it can be. We humans are master architects and builders of separation walls. If you’ve ever worked on an interfaith committee or an anti-racism team; if you’ve tried to help a classroom understand your child’s disability; if you’ve ever lived in another country or learned another language, you know the walls that separate us are high and often difficult to climb.
I learned something about boundaries—and how the Holy Spirit transcends them—when I was twenty years old and had the chance to study in Germany for a year.
The first new language I learned to speak that year abroad wasn’t actually German, but rather the language of public transportation. Public transit is something that just didn’t exist in small-town Oklahoma. Your choice for gettin’ around where I came from was essentially a choice of “vehicle”: car or truck.
But in one 24 hour period on my journey to Germany, I experienced my first overseas plane ride, followed by my first train, first street car, and first taxi ride. Then, once my bags were unpacked at my hosts’ home, they asked if I’d like to accompany their daughter at her rowing lesson. Soon, there I was, in my first rowboat, rowing down the Rhine River.
Needless to say, the study abroad experience was overwhelming and disorienting. I looked for comfort and stability in church. I had just recently joined the Roman Catholic Church back home (that story is a sermon for another day!) so I started attending daily mass at the huge cathedral in Mainz, where I was living.
It didn’t take long to realize this church was very different from my small, liberal, university campus parish in Oklahoma. I didn’t understand the language. I didn’t know any of the hymns. There was lots of standing up and sitting down that we didn’t do at home. And at age 20, I was a good 60 years younger than anyone else attending those early morning masses. It was beyond discouraging, but I kept going, praying hard to feel the presence of God in my life that I so dearly missed.
Adding to my sense of being out of place was this one woman at the church who always seemed to be staring at me. She made me nervous, with her long black dress and her little head doily. Her nose-hairs alone were enough to put the fear of God in you! Every day when I arrived, she was already there praying, and let’s just say: her demeanor was less than welcoming.
One morning, as I arrived and quietly found a spot to kneel and pray, nose-hair lady began to shuffle towards me. I did a quick mental check: What had I done wrong? Was my skirt too short? Did I sit in her pew?
When she got to me, I cautiously looked up at her and then nearly fainted, because she was smiling at me! Without saying a word, she reached out and took my hand. She pressed into it something small and hard. Then she just held my hands in hers for a few moments and looked into my eyes before going back to her usual place to pray.
When I opened my hand I saw it was a tiny silver medal, with an image of a baby dressed in royal clothing. I truly had no idea what it was or what I should do with it! Later, I found out it was an image of the Infant Jesus of Prague. At that moment, however, it meant one thing to me: I wasn’t alone. God was with me even in this foreign land. And this woman had been praying for me! Through the power of the Holy Spirit, God was speaking to me through this woman, across the boundaries of language, culture, and generation. This was a Pentecost moment for me.
There have been other Pentecost moments that stand out in my mind. Once, when I was having pregnancy complications, my Egyptian neighbor brought me the biggest pot of soup I had ever seen, and without saying a word she communicated that God was with me even on bed-rest. Another time, it was I who was given the gift of tongues, when I found myself sitting on an airplane next to a man who spoke no English and was traveling from Germany to, of all places, Oklahoma City. Between us, we managed to have a conversation in something you might call “Jerklish”. But when I was able to understand that he wanted water “mit Gas” or “with bubbles” and arranged for the flight attendant to bring a bottle of Perrier, you could see the tension and fear leave his shoulders and his face.
Now, you might be saying, “Pastor Carrie, I don’t see how this has anything to do with the Holy Spirit! You’re just talking about the power of a smile, the power of food, or the power of kindness and a glass of water. What does this have to do with God?”
To which I might respond: “Oh, how we limit God’s presence and power in our lives!”
In fact, our under-estimation of God’s power is what made the Day of Pentecost so scandalous! There they were, the faithful of the early church of Jesus Christ, all gathered together in one room, and when they experienced that first Holy Spirit smackdown and started speaking in tongues, no one could understand what was happening. The devout religious folk living in Jerusalem said, “Aren’t these all just poor fishermen from Galilee? Where did they learn to speak my mother tongue?” Most assumed they were drunk, even at nine in the morning, which just shows you the kind of reputation and standing Christians enjoyed at the time of the early church. But what other explanation could there be for simple, ordinary people, suddenly gifted with the ability to cross over boundaries of religion, language, race, and culture?
Indeed, what explanation can there be for those moments when a smile, a pot of soup, or an act of kindness communicates God’s love between people who otherwise share nothing in common?
On the Day of Pentecost, it was Peter who stood in the assembly and announced that this was in fact the power of God at work! This strange event was just the beginning of God’s presence and power in the lives of the faithful through the gift of the Holy Spirit. This is the work of the Advocate, whom Jesus promised, who makes our sons and daughters prophesy; who makes our young men see visions, and our old men dream dreams; and who gives us a peace that passes all understanding.
So sisters and brothers in Christ, if the power of Holy Spirit can be found working through a bunch of poor fishermen from Galilee or a pot of soup from a neighbor, then who are we to limit the Spirit’s power to transcend other boundaries in our lives? How is the Holy Spirit at work through this community?
We say “Surely it can’t make any difference if we try to sing a hymn in Spanish in worship. I might sound ridiculous—I don’t even know what I’m singing.” And yet, for your neighbor, this could be a Pentecost moment, when the Spirit empowers you to sing the Good News in her mother tongue.
We say, “I love to knit. But how can that prayer shawl I knitted really help to spread the Good News?” And yet, this week, in my role as a member of the County Mental Health Board, I heard from a counselor how she picked up two of Bethany’s prayer shawls at the FaithBridge Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, and gave them to a woman and her daughter who were in great need. Today, the little girl still has hers on her bed at home, and the mother finds comfort knowing she is wrapped in the prayers of those she doesn’t even know.
We say, “I’m 80 years old, and you can’t teach an old dog new tricks! How can the Holy Spirit possibly work through me?” And yet today we pray a blessing over Mavis Bagby, age 80, who is traveling to Uganda next week to accompany the people there. I have no doubt Mavis will experience many Pentecost moments, as the Holy Spirit works through her and through the Ugandan people to transcend boundaries of language, race, class and privilege in service to God’s mission.
And today we are blessed to be witnesses to the baptisms of four new brothers and sisters in Christ: Jimmie, Natalie, Myles and James. Through water and the Word, God claims them today as God’s own, forever marked with the cross of Christ and sealed by the Holy Spirit. But my favorite part of the baptism liturgy is after the water, when I have the honor of laying my hands on each of their heads and praying these words:
“Sustain Myles (and Natalie, and Jimmie, and James) with the gift of your Holy Spirit: the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the Spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever. Amen.”
This is my favorite part of the baptism liturgy because, like that Day of Pentecost in the second chapter of Acts, I know it is the beginning of something new. This is the baptismal birthday of Myles, Natalie, James, and Jimmie. This is the day we celebrate that each of them is gifted with God’s Holy Spirit, and from this day forward is sent out into the world in God’s service. Who can say how the Spirit might work through them? Who can say which boundaries they will erase, which walls they will tear down, or whose languages they will speak? Who can say how they will prophesy, dream dreams, or cast visions for the church and for the world? Who can limit how God may use each of them to share the extravagant love of Jesus Christ to those who need to hear it?
Sisters and brothers, through the cross of Christ and his resurrection, every barrier that stood between us and God is gone forever. And now, through the gift of the Holy Spirit, God has empowered believers to remove every barrier that stands between us and our neighbors.
Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!
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