This
sermon was preached on May 19 & 20, 2018, at Trinity Lutheran Church in Connellsville, PA, using the texts for the Day of Pentecost, year B.
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Today in
worship we are celebrating the festival of Pentecost. It is one of the three
principal festivals of the church year, alongside Christmas and Easter. On
Pentecost we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples and the
many and diverse people who were gathered in Jerusalem those ten days after
Jesus’ ascension into heaven. Though they were from different lands, speaking
different languages, the Holy Spirit’s power enabled each to hear the words of
God’s deeds of power and the good news of the Gospel in their own language.
Pentecost
is bright! Exciting! Chaotic! There’s fire, and wind, and a cacophony of
sounds. On Pentecost we celebrate unity and diversity, and a gift that was
poured on not just on those gathered in Jerusalem, but on us as well. In
baptism and beyond, this same Holy Spirit empowers us, emboldens us, and sends
us out.
It’s been
said that the Gospel is meant to afflict the comfortable and comfort the
afflicted. I think the same can be said for the role of the Holy Spirit.
Certainly there is a time for fire and wind and cacophony to disrupt us, stir
us from complacency, and propel us outward to make use of the gifts we have
been given. We sorely need these reminders that we are not in control, that the
Gospel and the Holy Spirit and the wonder of God are not scarce resources meant
to be managed and meted out by us.
We need
to be reminded that you, yes you, are gifted and called, empowered and sent out
to dream, vision, and prophesy something bigger and wider than the current
state of things. You, yes you, have been filled with the Holy Spirit and are
not just capable but compelled to share the wonderful good news of God’s love
and grace poured out for all people. Yes, for the most part, we are the
comfortable in need of some holy nudges (or shoves) to afflict us and rouse us
to action.
And also,
there are times when we find ourselves already surrounded by fire and
wind and cacophony. Times that we are painfully aware that we are nowhere near
to being in control. Times we are so broken down and burdened by grief, shame,
anger, longing, addiction, despair, and all the other forces that afflict us
that what we are most in need of is not more affliction, but comfort. Praise be
to God, the Holy Spirit is this, too.
I
absolutely love the passage we hear from Romans 8: “We know that the whole
creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation,
but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while
we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved.
Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we
hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Likewise the Spirit
helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that
very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the
heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for
the saints according to the will of God.”
The Holy
Spirit who is a violent, rushing wind is also the wind and breath of sighs too
deep for words. Not dainty sighs of contentment, but the guttural groans and
cries of anguish when there are no words, when no prayer is sufficient.
Unarmed
protestors in Gaza, treated as prisoners and used as pawns, mowed down by
gunfire. Yet another group of innocent school children, in Texas this time,
days away from summer vacation, in an environment that is supposed to be one of
safety, friendship, and learning, ripped apart by bullets. Children, forcefully
separated from their parents at the border. And even more stories from everywhere
of vulnerable people, abused, broken, and tossed aside by the ones who were
supposed to care for them and love them.
Closer to home, we, too, are overwhelmed and crying out - cancer,
disease, and bodies that seem to fail us; heartbreak and disappointment; death and
grief - there is so much in our world and in our lives for which there are no words, no prayer.
When we
don’t know what to pray, when our anger and despair and anguish and confusion
weigh heavily on us, the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf with sighs too
deep for words. When we are weak, broken down, and adrift, the Holy Spirit
comes alongside us to shore us up. When we are groaning, crying out, and in
pain, the Holy Spirit is with us, a tender caregiver embracing shoulders
wracked by sobs. When we are waiting, clinging to the tiniest shreds of hope,
grasping at ever-thinning patience, the Holy Spirit clings to us, whispering
God’s promises into our ears.
This is
the Holy Spirit we celebrate at Pentecost. Not just one who stirs up, sends
out, and empowers. Not just one whose presence leaves us with mouths agape,
amazed and perplexed. But also, one who comes to us in our groaning, our
silence, and our sobs and prays with us and for us, filling us with the breath
of life when ours is almost gone.
I wonder
which manifestation of the Holy Spirit you find yourself in need of today.
Whether you are brimming with hope or clinging to a shrinking thread, crying
out in amazement or anguish, the Holy Spirit is with you. She is there, I
promise, holding you tenderly or propelling you forward. She is the very
presence of the grace and power of God, with you, for you, for always. This is
wonderful good news to celebrate, on Pentecost and, indeed, every day. Thanks be to God.
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