Acts 2:1-21 "One Toe In"

         A wealthy family from Massachusetts had a month’s vacation every summer on the coast of Maine, taking their nanny with them.  On her first day off, the nanny would enact what had become an annual ritual at the beach.

         She wore an old one piece bathing suit, a little white sun hat, and she carried enough paraphernalia to stock Wal-Mart. The nanny would settle herself on a beach chair, then cover every inch of her exposed flesh with sunscreen, and, after a good deal of preparation, journey down to the water’s edge.

         There she would hesitate while taking deep breaths, flapping her arms, and generally working up her courage to enter the icy-cold water. Finally, she would daintily extend one foot and lower it slowly into the water until she barely had her big toe submerged. Then she repeated the act with the other foot. Having then satisfied her annual urge for a swim, she would retreat to her chair and umbrella and spend the remainder of her vacation time curled around a book.

         That, I think, is how some of us, at least, have been conditioned to approach the Festival of Pentecost, this celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit.  We are a little leery of it and certainly do not want to just leap right into it. 

         From the Biblical images of the Holy Spirit of Pentecost symbolized in a mighty wind and tongues of fire, our brains seem to move almost effortlessly and often very uncomfortably to revival tents in the Deep South and snake handlers in Appalachia.  And this paradigm shift from Pentecost to Pentecostal is all the more pronounced if our church experience has been grounded in good old, always in control, not too much emotion, whatever you do don’t rock the boat New England Protestantism.

         If that is your perspective, if you approach Pentecost and the Holy Spirit warily and somewhat at arm’s length, well, at least you do not live in 10^th century Rome.  There, according to UCC pastor, Carolyn Reynolds, “the Pentecost liturgy involved not only anthems, but church architecture.  (You see), the heavenly scenes painted on the domed and soaring ceilings of so many cathedrals served not only to inspire and transport the congregation. They also disguised trap doors, small openings drilled through cathedral ceilings to their rooftops.

         At the appropriate moment during the Pentecost mass, servants would ascend the rooftop to release live doves through these holes. From out of the painted skies and clouds, swooping, diving symbols of a vitally present Holy Spirit would descend toward the people below. Simultaneously, choirboys would break into the whooshing and drumming sound of a windstorm. And, finally, as doves flew and winds rushed, bushels of rose petals would shower down upon the congregation like red, flickering tongues of flame.”

         All those theatrics were employed, of course, to convince the congregation that the Holy Spirit is not given to conformity and control.  As Episcopal priest Mark Harris so rightly notes, “ the Spirit is somewhat cranky and given to its own thing.”

         It is like the writer of the Gospel of John notes, "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes.” If the Holy Spirit makes us a wee bit nervous – well, it should – because when the Holy Spirit shows up, you just do not know what will come next.

         I mean, look what happened to the apostles and their believer friends in Jerusalem.  The last time they had seen Jesus, he had told them to wait, just wait for the Holy Spirit to arrive.  It will be my gift to you, he said, and, with it, all will be well. 

        What was that supposed to mean?  The gift of the Holy Spirit?  Really, most of them still had not completely given up on the idea of a political Messiah who would overturn Rome and finally restore the kingdom of Israel. In fact, when Jesus departed through the clouds right before their very eyes, they had stood staring at the sky as though there had been some mistake. It is said that angels had to come and shoo them away.  

         The gift of the Holy Spirit?  Exactly what that meant, how, or when it would occur no one knew.  However, rather than blundering out on their own as Peter had been known to do in the past, apparently they really did wait – and what a surprise they were in for! 

         First, it sounded and felt like a hurricane was whipping through the house where they were staying.  The walls shook.  Candles were snuffed out.  Hair was blown in all directions.  Dust from the marketplace swirled in through open windows, stinging eyes and tickling noses, causing Andrew and James to both have sneezing fits. 

         When the power of the wind had subsided, and the dust had settled a bit, surely they thought – wow, what a divine intervention. This Holy Spirit business must be the gift of power.

        It was then, however, that those little tongues of fire began to shoot out of the tops of their heads – burning and burning with seemingly nothing to fuel them.  It could not help but remind them of Moses that first time he had met God.  The flames were like a bunch of little burning bushes.  Wow – what a divine intervention! This Holy Spirit business must be the gift of energy and excitement – or so they figured.

         Unable to contain themselves or keep any of these strange events secret a moment longer, they streamed out of the house and into the market place.  They poured into the streets and babbled on and on about wind and fire. 

         And all the pilgrims from all over the ancient world, who had gathered there in Jerusalem for the Jewish Festival of Pentecost, they all understood what the apostles were talking about, even if they did not speak Aramaic.  It was as if the apostles were speaking in Arabic or Latin or Greek – whatever language each person who listened could understand. 

         And, almost like icing on the cake, Peter suddenly hurtled himself onto the topmost step leading into the house and began to preach.  Peter – once an illiterate fisherman and most always a bumbling, stumbling follower – Peter who had doubted and denied and in a way betrayed the rabbi he so dearly loved – Peter got up and preached the sermon of a lifetime.  The more cynical in the crowd thought the whole lot of them was drunk – even though it was only 9:00 A.M.  The rest, however, seemed content to be part of this miracle of the coming of the Holy Spirit.  

         Tradition has it that 3000 people were baptized that day, and in an instant the tiny band of Jesus followers became a movement within Judaism to contend with.  And so, we say, the church was born – there in the midst of the gusting, roaring, and burning of the Holy Spirit.  In a nutshell then, on Pentecost, God “jump started” the church. (Robin Fish)

         What an astounding story, but it is a story we need in the church today.  It is not some ancient tale to hear and forget – because, you see, without Pentecost, over time, Easter would fall flat on its face.  What do I mean by that?

         As Disciples of Christ pastor, Fred Craddock has noted, “Without Pentecost, Easter (only) reminds the church that Jesus has now gone to be with God, and his followers are left alone in the world.  Without Pentecost, Easter offers us a risen Christ (who) leaves the church to face the world armed with nothing but fond memories of how it once was when Jesus was here.  But with Pentecost, Easter’s Christ…has returned in the Holy Spirit as comforter, guide, teacher, reminder, and power….With Pentecost, the risen Christ says hello and not good-bye to the church.”

         Yes, we need this astounding story of Pentecost in the church today, and we certainly need the Holy Spirit that is part and parcel of it.  We need to be reminded time and time again that it is the Spirit that lies at the core of what we are able to do as the church, as the Body of Christ. 

         The Holy Spirit is the source of our power in the church.  As Shane Claiborne writes: “Maybe we are a little crazy. After all, we believe in things we don’t see....We believe poverty can end even though it is all around us. We believe in peace even though we hear only rumors of war. And since we are people of expectation, we are so convinced that another is coming that we start living as if it were already here.”  Such Spirit-inspired dreams give us the power to untangle the threads of poverty and to beat our swords into plowshares – in spite of the world telling us that transformation is too big, too complicated, to much work: we can never make a difference.

         The Holy Spirit is the source of our energy and excitement in the church.  Once a large downtown church building caught fire. Fire and rescue workers from surrounding towns were called in to quell the blaze.  As the building was engulfed in flames, a crowd of people gathered to watch the spectacle. 

         One gentleman turned to the man next to him and remarked, “I’ve never seen you at church before.” 

         Not missing a beat, the other responded, “I’ve never seen the church on fire before.”

         With only 17% of the population thinking that the local church is important for spiritual development and over half saying that they are not religious anyway, that offhanded remark is one that we who do come to church ought to take most seriously. 

         The Holy Spirit is God’s gift to us here at the Raymond Village Community Church (United Church of Christ).  It is God’s gift of power, God’s gift of energy and excitement.  And, as Presbyterian pastor Thomas Long noted, it is God’s “gift of something to say, a Word to speak in the brokenness and tragedy of the world that is unlike any other word.” 

         Celtic Christians, who originated in the British Isles, symbolized the Holy Spirit as a goose – squawking, flapping, assertive, obnoxious, and with a mind of its own. 

I like that symbol because it reminds me that the chances are good that we are clipping the wings of the Spirit when we only want to sing the hymns we grew up with, when meeting our budget becomes more important that realizing and activating our mission, when we convince ourselves that it is OK to stay within these four walls and not reach out to welcome, embrace, and care for those we do not know, those we fear, and those we may not even like.  We are caging the Spirit when we have the attitude that if they need us, they will come.

         If the Holy Spirit is in this place, may we realize that it is not swirling about solving our problems.  Rather, it is creating them.  It is not shielding us from failure. 

Rather, it is inviting it as we figure out how most effectively to follow the Way of Christ, asking us not to make assumptions about what we can or cannot do but rather challenging us to dream and vision. 

         On Pentecost Sunday, we are reminded of all those attributes of the Holy Spirit – its power, energy, excitement - and once again, to see it for what it is – unpredictable, surprising, and eminently capable, if we let it, of leading us as the church to places we never thought we would ever go, and always – always – urging and challenging us to put more than just a big toe in as we venture together deeper into the waters of faith by really being the church, really being the Body of Christ in this crazy jaded world so in need of our ministry. 

         That is what Pentecost is all about – the coming of the Holy Spirit – God active and alive now, God still speaking, today, in our time, and , if we let the Holy One, even in our little church. In short, Pentecost is a festival to be taken as seriously as Christmas and Easter, and the Holy Spirit is nothing to be trifled with. 

         The call of Pentecost is simple, but can we say it – and really believe it – and really want it to happen to us?  Can we face the mighty wind?  Can we look unafraid into the shooting flames?  Dare we speak like the apostles – even like Peter - so that all who hear us will understand? 

         The call is simple, but can we say it?  Come, Holy Spirit, come!
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine