Acts 2:1-21
On the day of Pentecost the small band of disciples were hunkered down in their upper room. They were all together in one place. In one room.
Everybody in that room had – not long before – been a part of the crowds who were gathered in the streets below. Not very long ago they had been a part of that community, the people who made pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Jewish festivals. That’s just what they had done, in fact, for the Passover festival. About seven weeks earlier. But a lot had changed since then.
Now their community was much diminished. Now their community was comprised of a group small enough to fit into this upper room. And, sadly, the people in that room viewed many of those outside their room as enemies.
It was kind of a low moment for the People of the Way. They were still waiting on something, something … they didn’t know what.
The community of the People of the Way – it was not strong. Yet.
But something was about to happen that would change all that. That something was the Holy Spirit. It came in with a violence that was shocking. The rush of a violent wind filling the entire house, tongues of fire resting over every head. Sharp, shocking violence – but not for the sake of violence. The Spirit brought gifts that shocked this little group into becoming a force for something much greater – for all the grace of God through Jesus Christ.
The Spirit gave them power to speak languages they didn’t know, for the sake of creating community they couldn’t yet imagine.
And outside their window, down in the street below there were crowds of people from all over the diaspora. Suddenly, all these diverse people could hear the words of love spoken in their own native languages.
Something miraculous had happened. The little tribe in that upper room had suddenly forged connections with people of every nation, all who were gathered in the holy city for the festival of Pentecost. Now we know, for sure, that because of this Pentecost miracle, the good news would go with them to all the nations they called home.
Community happened. And it was big. And it was love. It was gospel.
And here’s what it was not. Political. Partisan. Divisive. Community in Christ is not tribal. Community in Christ is all about erasing the boundary lines.
I struggled to write a Pentecost sermon this week, because things kept happening, and made me continually ask: what is the real message of community for us today? How does the Spirit of Pentecost speak to us today?
Throughout our country, as we continue to battle the pandemic, does the Spirit speak into the divide that wants to turn public health into a political minefield? Where the decision to wear a protective mask can derisively be called “political correctness?” How does the Spirit speak into this mess?
In the Pennsylvania State House, does the Spirit speak in the midst of extreme partisanship? So extreme that members of one political party decided to share news of a potential COVID-19 outbreak only with members of their own party, hiding it from the opposing party. How does the Spirit speak into that mess?
In Minneapolis, does the Spirit speak in literal flames of fire? People protesting a long history of police brutality toward black men and women reaching a boiling point. Yes, the protests turned violent. Property was destroyed. But their message is: do our lives, our bodies, not matter more than property? Are we not more than property? A man was killed on the street by police officers for a counterfeit 20 dollar bill. Are we not members of the same community?
How does the Spirit speak into such an unholy mess?
The scriptures speak to us of beloved community, boundary-less community. I have spoken frequently over these past ten weeks or so about the beauty of community that connects us to one another no matter where we are. The certainty that the Spirit of God can hold us together even when we are physically apart. We are not bound by the former things – the old ways of thinking about what it means to be together. What it means to be community. We know that the Spirit of God moves where she will and how she will. She is untamed, free.
But it grieves me to acknowledge that the ways of the Spirit do not come naturally to us. We look at others whose languages are different. Perhaps the actual language they speak, but perhaps it is the lens through which they see the world. We don’t all see the world the same way – there are difference by race, by culture, by education or income level, by political affiliation. We don’t always see the world the same way, because the world has not treated us all the same way. Sometimes we don’t understand the others when they try to speak to us, and we condemn them.
Beloved community does not come naturally to us. Grace does not come naturally to us.
We need a miracle for all that. And sometimes we get one.
In our Bible study last week we read about a special bond that has been forged between two unlikely groups: the people of Ireland and the Native Americans. A bond forged more than 150 years ago, when the Choctaw nation took up a collection for the Irish during their great famine. One people who were suffering saw a kinship with another suffering people.
And so it happened that thousands of Irish citizens have made donations to a fund to support the Navajo and Hopi elders during the pandemic. An effort to ensure that they have enough food to eat, enough water to survive. One people who have a collective memory of suffering, nurture the bonds of kinship with another.
They were guided by an old Irish saying that can be translated as, “We live in each other’s shadows.” The meaning of the saying is that we are all dependent on one another to shelter us from life’s difficulties. We are all in this together, even though we may not see it, and we all need one another to live and to flourish.
The Navajo people have a similar guiding principle: called K’e, which can be translated simply as kinship. The kinship of all living things.
Thousands of miles apart, speaking different languages, living in almost completely different worlds, community was forged by the power of compassion – a miracle.
Today, on this day of Pentecost, we are community – even while we are physically apart. Today we are church – even while we are not together in the building. But that’s not all we are.
Brothers and sisters, we are commissioned by Christ to be his church, wherever we are, in whatever ways the Spirit empowers us to be. We have been given the power of the Spirit to participate in and witness to miracles. Let us put this power to work in a world that badly needs to see the miracle of community.
