No Birds. Just Wind. [Pentecost A]

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Acts 2:1-21 & John 20:19-23

No Birds. Just Wind.

It's Pentecost. And I guess I thought there would be more birds. I mean, this is the Holy Spirit's big day and during the Spirit's very first, and most memorable, appearance in the Gospel, at the baptism of Jesus, the Spirit floated down from the heavens dressed as a bird. That was the first impression and, I gotta say, it really stuck. I've seen the religious art of the middle ages, probably you have too; the Trinity is always Old Man, Young Man, and white bird. I've sang those good bird-centric Pentecost Holy Spirit Hymns:

Like the murmur of the dove's song, like the challenge of her flight.

Bird.

Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove.

Bird.

Sweet Holy Spirit, Sweet Heavenly Dove, stay right here with us, filling us with your love. Bird.

I mean, dress like an animal once and no one will ever let you forget it. Just ask Sean Spicer.

Even our bulletin today. Bird.

But today's Scripture lessons are totally and completely birdless. No birds in Acts. No birds in John. No birds in the psalm or Paul's letter to the Corinthians.

And it makes sense, I guess. I tried to imagine what the Acts reading would be like with birds. It's different. “And suddenly from heaven there came a sound of mighty flapping wings. And then, like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock film, birds filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divide tongues of fire rested on each head – which, of course lit the birds on fire. And instead of rushing into the streets to proclaim the Good News, the disciples spent the entire weekend cleaning up the mess from the bird fire.” Speaking of our bulletin, the cover, it seems, is actually based on this bird version of the Acts story.

A bird version of the Gospel of John story doesn't really work much better. I've imagined that too. “Jesus said to them, 'Peace be with you.' When he had said this, he started handing out birds to the confused disciples. And then Jesus said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit.' Which just confused them all the more because it seemed like he just gave them birds. And there was never any peace in the house because there were eleven birds chirping all the time. And even though Jesus said 'Receive the Holy Spirit' to them it felt more like receive this pet and all of the additional responsibilities of caring for a pet bird.”

So no birds in today's Scripture lessons. Just wind.

And just us, forever trying to grasp the wind – which the book of Ecclesiastes reminds us is vanity. There are many reasons to cling to the bird image; the number one reason is that one can cling to a bird. You can see, touch, hold, cage a bird. But you cannot see the wind. You cannot touch it. You cannot hold it. And you cannot cage it.

It is a mystery that sweeps through our world – with no beginning and no ending – sometimes gentle and refreshing, sometimes violent and devastating. Always out of our control. And though it is difficult to paint wind into the medieval works of art between Old Man and Young Man, grasping wind is a much more accurate description of our relationship with the Holy Spirit than is bird-watching.

Our human minds delight in solving problems and unraveling mysteries and decoding codes. We like to figure things out – to place our trust in proven entities. And our faith is hard because we are asked to place our trust in things we cannot see or understand. We are grasping at wind, finding that we are forever empty-handed.

Today I will baptize four people into the Body of Christ. And, unless we are all in for a huge and terrifying surprise, no bird from heaven will descend upon these four as they emerge from the water. Instead, the Spirit will once again hide in the air around us, unseen. I will invoke the Holy Spirit over the water in the font. And the water will stay perfectly still. I will trace a cross in holy oil on the forehead of each newly baptized Christian and I will look them in the eyes and declare to them, “you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism.” But later the oil will wash away and there will be no way to see or display that permanent seal.

It is a quite a thing to give one's life to an unseen mystery. And that is what we as Christians are asked to do. What potentially makes it easier is that we do it all the time. We are animated by the breath of life, but we cannot see it. Our souls are sustained by the beauty of music, but we cannot see it. Our feet are grounded by the force of gravity, but we cannot see it. Our spirit runs on hope, but we cannot see it. Love is the most powerful thing in the universe, but we cannot see it.

There is more going on than meets the eye. The Spirit is so close to us that we cannot find our focus. We live and move and have our being in the Spirit of God. Like the atmosphere, the Spirit envelops us. And like the atmosphere, it holds us and sustains us whether or not we believe it is there – even though we cannot see it, even though we cannot hold it firmly in our hands.

What actually happened in John's Gospel is that Jesus breathed on his disciples. He breathed on them. The simplest thing in the world – air escaping his mouth. The average person does that 23,000 times a day. It is amazing how our mysteries are wrapped up so tightly in simplicity. Jesus pushed the Holy Spirit into this world through his lips. No birds; just wind. And the Spirit moved on the breath of Jesus. Entering and leaving and entering again the lungs of the disciples – a conspiracy, the twelve of them breathing together. So that the Spirit rode on every breath they took and on every word they spoke. Jesus filling their lungs and Jesus filling their world – spreading like a virus – unseen and impossible to grasp, unseen and impossible to stop.

What actually happened in Acts is that a violent wind pushed the disciples out of the room and into the streets. Like a tornado that could not be resisted, the Holy Spirit carried them into their mission field – to speak the Gospel of Jesus into the world – so that what was in them could be breathed in by others. Jesus filling their lungs and Jesus filling their world – spreading like a virus – unseen and impossible to grasp, unseen and impossible to stop.

You are breathing the same air – passed through the lungs of our forbearers. You are held in the same wind. Jesus is filling your lungs and you are breathing Jesus back into the world – inspiring those those who are suffocating, breathing life into dead places. We live and move and have our being in this Holy Spirit – the very atmosphere that envelops us. We are surrounded. And our only reasonable option is surrender – to allow the wind to blow us away.

Birds are OK; birds are nice; that flaming bird makes a sharp bulletin cover. But our destiny is blowin' in the wind.