Emphasis Preaching Journal

In 1966, about a year before he died, J. Robert Oppenheimer -- brilliant physicist, co-inventor of the atom bomb -- confessed, "I am a complete failure!" Looking back on his life, Oppenheimer saw all his scientific achievements as meaningless. When someone pointed out how many important discoveries he had made, he replied, "They leave on the tongue only the taste of ashes."

Oppenheimer realized, late in life, that the fire he, like some twentieth-century Prometheus, had brought into the world could leave behind only ashes. That's the only thing that can come of weapons of mass destruction, and of our crazy, headlong desire to seek wealth and power, and to protect it with military might. Indeed, "the taste of ashes" is the only thing that can come of any human enterprise that does not have God in it.

The fire of Pentecost, by contrast, is a living thing. It cleanses and heals. It bestows on this tired planet new life. Like Moses' burning bush, the Pentecost fire blazes, but does not consume. On this great festival, we celebrate the truth that God is still present and active in our world, and that here in worship is the place we are most likely to encounter the moving of the Spirit.