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.
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