Journey's Weekly Homilies
Pentecost
Cycle B. June 8, 2003
Homily by: Carol Gabrielli
Acts 2:1-11
1 Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13
John 20:19-23
On the evening of that first day, the first
day of the week, the doors being shut where the disciples were,
for fear of the Judeans, Jesus came and stood among them and said
to them, “Peace be with you.” Having said this, Jesus showed
them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when
they saw Jesus. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As
my Abba God has sent me, so I send you.” Having said this, he
breathed on them, and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If
you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the
sins of any, they are retained.”
About two months ago I was scheduled to give
the homily and couldn’t. Because of some unexpected surgery, I
needed to hand off that responsibility to Sam. A few weeks into my
recovery, Nancy called to check in about my health and to hear if
I had been utilizing my idle hours of healing to hone my homiletic
skills. She asked when I thought I’d be up for offering another
homily, and we began to look at a few end-of-May and beginning-of-
June dates. While I held our cordless phone in my left hand, I
flipped through our calendar magnetically secured to the side of
our fridge with my right. Passing over the Sundays marked
“Christine arrives” and “We’re in Tacoma,” I suggested a
Sunday. “How about Sunday, June 8th?” I asked.
Nancy’s response was something like, “Well, honey, that’s
Pentecost. That’s a biggie, but I’m sure you can do it.”
I remember saying goodbye and taking the
short walk from our fridge to the kitchen counter where our phone
sits. A biggie: what did that mean? I think I understood how Nancy
intended it: Pentecost, a significant liturgical celebration, like
Christmas and Easter. Like if you’re only going to remember a
few stories from the entire New Testament, consider these three:
Christmas—Jesus arrived on the planet through a miraculous
birth; Easter—Jesus died and mysteriously, through another
miracle, was raised up; and Pentecost—Jesus came back to inspire
his frightened friends and to remind them why he had ever arrived
at all.
Pentecost, as a word, literally means “five
ten times.” Pentecost as a celebration was the Jewish Feast of
Weeks beginning the fiftieth day after Passover. In Jewish
tradition this fiftieth-day-after-Passover celebration is called
“Shauvot” [Sha vu ote]. This day, for Jews, marks the time
when, tradition says, the Torah was received on Mount Sinai. For
Christians, according to the book of Acts, this day was the
occasion of the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Jesus’
disciples. Because of this, Pentecost is considered the beginning
of the Church, sometimes referred to as the “Birthday of the
Church.”
In preparing for this homily, I found myself
coming back to that last piece of how Pentecost can be described,
“the Birthday of the Church.” Birthdays are familiar. We all
have them. By definition they mark time, and often that time--that
day--is marked by including others in some celebration.
All of us have been at both ends of the
birthday invitation equation: we’ve been included or not, and
when it is our gathering, our celebration, we decide who is
invited and who is not—who’s in and who’s out.
What is significant about our good news—our
gospel—today, is that all of us are included in this
celebration. We are all invited. Our Church is getting birthed
again and again and again—and we are invited. Do we feel like
RSVP-ing? Do we show up?
A few months ago I had an innocent and
profound exchange with my four-year-old friend, aptly named
Elijah. I happened to be with Eli on the morning of my 37th
birthday. He and his younger brother Luke greeted me with excited
hellos, a birthday crown, and handmade cards. About an hour into
our time together and amidst playing trains, reading books and
showing puppets, Eli asked, “Muffins or cake?” “Muffins or
cake?” I repeated. “What do you mean, muffins or cake?” With
utter disbelief, he deliberately asked again, but this time with
some explanation, “Muffins or cake? Is Vicki making you muffins or cake for your
birthday?”
The truth was I doubted Vicki was making any
dessert-related treat for my birthday. When Vicki asked me what I
wanted to do for my birthday, I suggested we go for Mexican food
at Dingo’s with our buddies Ammi and Lindsey.
I sat there for a few seconds with a village of finger puppets in my lap and tried to anticipate where Eli was going with his questioning. I was sure I knew, so I responded, “Eli, Do you want me to bring you some of my birthday treats next week when I see you?”
And with all the certainty a four-year-old
could possibly express, he said, “I’ll get some tonight—at
your party.”
I felt my face drop. I don’t think he
caught my awkwardness because, after what was for me, a few
inordinately long seconds, he broke the silence and said, “I
think I’m allowed to come. I’ll have to ask my mom.”
There was no question in Eli’s heart and
mind that he was included. He just was. He was included by virtue
of his impassioned desire to be included. It was that simple.
Like Eli, we should have no doubt in our
hearts and minds that we are included in this day. All of us are
invited to this Pentecost celebration, this day that marks time in
our faith, this event of the Holy Spirit. Our gospel tells us that
Jesus’ disciples were afraid when he arrived. After he greeted
them and assured them it was he, Jesus, John tells us, inspired
the disciples—literally, he breathed life into them. The story
suggests that Jesus breathes life into them so they have the
energy and the will and the creativity to be sent out endowed with
the gift of the Holy Spirit.
The verb we hear from Jesus is “receive.”
He asks his disciples to receive
the Holy Spirit. In Greek, the verb translates as “receive,
take, get.” When I looked this up in my English-Greek lexicon I
couldn’t help but imagine Jesus attaching a popular
understanding of the verb “get,” as in “Do
you get this?” Do we
get it? Are we awake enough, gracious enough, courageous
enough to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit? I know what Nancy
meant when she said this is “a biggie” and yet it is so
simple, so accessible, so inviting-- if we let it be.
Let’s mark this time, this moment and close
our eyes and take a few deep breaths. Listen to the sound of the
air God provided so you and I can fill our lungs. Note the sounds
of the lungs filling around you. Listen. Breathe. Listen again.