Spiritual chinook
Commentary
In northern parts of the United States winter weather reports include phrases like "cold
Canadian air" sweeping down, "the Alberta clipper" driving storms in from the northwest,
or an "arctic system" whistling through the upper midwest or New England states. But
those who live in Alberta know that the strongest winds are not the coldest. The most
powerful winds of Alberta are the chinooks.
One account of a chinook wind appeared in Christian Courier some years ago (11/27/87):
It was one of those deceptively bone-chilling Alberta mornings when the sun shines so brightly in a cloudless sky that you think the warmth of heaven has swallowed up winter in its fire. But the first step out of the door crunches snow like gravel, and the biting claws of minus-forty-degree air tears at your nose and lungs. Your face even shrivels up into a grimace as your muscles pull back, each retreating behind others for protection.
The engine in my pickup truck groaned in agony, trying to lubricate itself with oil as thick as tar. And the vinyl seat was a cold stone throne, stoutly protesting the pastoral visits its young master was called to make. But driving westward near Picture Butte a strange and wonderful thing happened.
Something like a wall of air was moving toward me, a captivating sight that words can't really describe. There had been no wind at all when I left Iron Springs, but suddenly now my truck shuddered, slapped in the face by a violent blast. All of the chrome and metal parts of the vehicle clouded over with a frosty mist, and the windshield fogged dangerously. I pulled to the side of the road and stepped out -- only to find that the temperature was warm, already trying to push above the freezing mark! The chinook had arrived!
According to weather records, chinook winds rival hurricanes in speed, and rapidly raise temperatures. Calgary, Alberta, reported a 51-degree warm-up in four hours on February 7, 1964, and a 43 percent drop in humidity at the same time. While the name for the North American blast is derived from a tribe of Indians who lived in the area, similar winds are found in mountainous areas around the world. Sweeping down from the Andes, Argentinians call them zonda. In Switzerland the term is schneefresser, which translates as "snow eater."
Although any analogy is limited, the idea of a chinook wind or a "snow eater" seems a marvelous hook on which to hang today's teachings. In a world frozen over by sin's winter, the Pentecost wind blows in with the warmth of heaven and fans a spiritual passion that is still burning around the world. (Think of C. S. Lewis' Chronicles Of Narnia, and how, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Mr. Beaver laments that in his country it is "always winter but never Christmas," although things might be changing because there are reports that Aslan is on the move.) Luke's report in Acts 2 describes the incidents as they unfolded that first Pentecost Sunday. Paul breathes pastoral warmth as he talks about the power growing within when the Spirit takes root in our hearts. And the words of Jesus in the fourth gospel remind us that the Spirit is our only true link to the departed, ascended Jesus.
Acts 2:1-21
John Wesley once tried to explain why the crowds amassed when he stood to preach. He said, "God has set me on fire and people come out to watch me burn."
Something of that sort has been true ever since the first Pentecost Sunday when a sign of the Holy Spirit's presence was the consuming fire that distributed itself among the disciples. Years earlier, when John the Baptist preached his hellfire and damnation sermons on the banks of the Jordan River, he announced this day. He said to the gathering throngs, "I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire" (Matthew 3:11).
The symbolism of fire was particularly fitting for this occasion. God met Moses in the burning bush in the wilderness (Exodus 3). God led Israel through the deserts by means of a fiery cloud, and when God took up residence in the camp, it was heaven's shekinah glory light that enveloped the tabernacle. Fire had long proclaimed the living presence of God on earth.
But the peculiar actions of this particular flame, recorded by Luke, declared another important theological message. The fire was one, yet it divided itself into identical replicas above each individual in the place. The God whose unique fiery presence had stood over the tabernacle and temple now moved into the apartment complex of the church. God's single will invaded each room, each heart, and joined it with the others through a vast network of consuming love.
Furthermore, both the Hebrew (ruach) and Greek (pneuma) languages each have a single word that captures the ideas of "wind," "breath," and "spirit." Certainly, in reflection, the disciples couldn't help but recognize the parallels between themselves and young Adam in Genesis 2. He was only an inert blob of clay and water until the warm wind of God's breath gave him the life of the Spirit.
The sound of wind was a thrilling announcement of the powerful, loving, and life-giving Spirit of God. Sailors in ancient days sometimes got stuck in the quiet death of the doldrums near earth's equator. Nothing was more welcome, after weeks of listless apathy, than the mighty roar of heaven's unseen hand against their sails. In fact, in the 1800s, when a ship carrying missionary, Hudson Taylor, was becalmed near an island known for its cannibal residents, the crew grew fearful as the vessel drifted toward shore. Knowing Mr. Taylor's occupation and the strength of his convictions, the captain pleaded with him to pray to the Almighty for wind. Taylor agreed, but only on the condition that the captain unfurl the sails. This seemed foolish, for not a breath of air stirred. Still, Taylor was adamant and the captain, in fear, complied. Taylor went to his small room to pray. Soon a knock came at the door. It was the captain. "Are you still praying for wind?" he cried.
When Taylor affirmed that he was still wrestling with God, the captain said, "Well, you'd better stop now; we've got more wind than we can manage!" Wouldn't that be an amazing thing to hear in our worship gatherings today?
In quoting words from the prophet Joel, Peter links the coming of the Spirit to the great "Day of the Lord." As the life of Israel was chipped away in Old Testament times, ripped away by invaders, and tipped away by internal failures, the prophets increasingly looked forward to a time when God would once again directly intervene in human history to do three things: destroy the power of evil both in the nations around and within the people of Israel themselves; preserve a remnant of the chosen people as a testimony of God's goodness; and usher in the times of the messianic kingdom in which life would resonate with goodness and all creation would celebrate the return of its original goodness.
In a very real way, the wind of Pentecost Spirit signals the return of spring to Narnia. Aslan [Jesus] is on the move wherever the wind blows.
Romans 8:22-27
Paul gives a full history overview in his letter to the Romans. He talks about creation and the intrinsic connection between Creator and creature, as well as the fall into sin and how it disrupted this bond. In chapter 4, Paul reviews the days of the patriarchs, showing God's growing relationship with Abraham, the father of Israel. Chapter 5 pulls the story up to Jesus, outlining how his work provides the redemption that reinvigorates the old family tree of Adam that was wilting from the roots up. Then Paul makes things personal in chapters 6-7 as the struggles of spiritual warfare wrangle in every human heart. In chapter 8, the promise of a great outcome is given, as consummation is inferred.
Whatever it is that will happen to us and for us, however, has begun to take shape already through the inner presence of God's Spirit. Paul acknowledges the weaknesses, challenges, and ravages that have become part of our existence because of sin, but he doesn't stop there. The God who shaped our world in its beginnings is doing a powerful work of re-creation that has already sprouted wherever the Spirit roams. In a sense, it is Babel undone.
In Genesis 11, the whole human race, in the years after the great flood, adopts atheistic humanism as its working philosophy. "We don't need the God of the heavens!" is the rallying cry. "There is only one god, and he is us!"
The people begin to build their brave new world around themselves. A single skyscraper will house them all. The flagpole at the top will float the banner of freedom: a huge yellow smiling face with the words underneath, "I'm okay; you're okay!" All residents of earth are part of the city, but the God of heaven is confined to a hidden slum because he speaks a different language.
According to the Genesis story, God visits the construction site and makes a few alterations. At coffee time the next day, as the crews are reaching for their thermoses, the friendly bantering turns into verbal abuse. No one can make sense of the strange "babel" of others. Tempers flare as tensions slice through the community. Ethnic groupings form and people back away from one another with weapons drawn, isolating themselves behind military fences and in panic rooms.
Then, across the centuries and through 1,000 ethnic wars, as the bigoted minds of humans shun a child for the strange twist of a tongue, God steps out of heaven again. While the splintered world shakes its many heads in the "babel" of disbelief, a single voice pierces the fog of the divided mind. A single Word speaks love, and a single Spirit creates a new humanity, not based on the evils of human ingenuity but rather on the grace of divine forgiveness.
The God who once defused the power of evil by turning it into a cacophony of many dissonant voices at ancient Babel now binds the many into a single new humanity with the delightful miracle of tongues at Pentecost: "We hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!"
With these ideas in mind it is clear to see why Paul writes as he does. First, he brings the pastoral comfort of one who understands suffering. While Paul is more logically precise in his letter to the Roman Christians than in many of his other more rambling epistles, he is also very empathetic throughout. In chapter 8 and in the agonizing introspections of the previous chapter, Paul writes like someone who has known much of personal suffering and interior reflection.
Second, Paul ties together in quick order the creation-fall-redemption-consummation links he forged into an extended chain in the earlier chapters. Paul identifies the goodness of original creation, the agony experienced in a fallen world, the provisions of redemption, and the anticipation of the restoration in the coming age.
Third, the idea of creation suffering is a powerful motif. This perspective is unique to biblical literature. In other religions, the world around us is a trap which seeks to prevent us from full self-actualization, or a neutral territory which is mostly unaffected by human morality, or, at best, the natural order of things, which is basically good. And the best of human expression comes when societies give up civilization and return to innocence. Only in the theology of the Bible does the world emerge as a good creation of God, which suffers along with humankind for the sins introduced through the disobedience of God's first human partners.
Fourth, there is incredible comfort found in the idea of God's active investment on behalf of us. Even when we do not know what to ask of God or how to communicate with God, God is already, by way of the Spirit, reaching within us in kindness and empathizing with our mystifying need. We have an ally -- a divine ally. We have a divine ally who proactively reaches out to us like a mother anticipating the needs of her child. Reflecting again on the wind of Pentecost, our ship is pushed along through rough seas by the wind of God's grace, even when we lack the fuel to run the engines of our own making.
John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
The Spirit functions in a unique way in the theology of John. Within the "Farewell Discourse" of Jesus (John 13-17; for a thoughtful and accessible reflection on its structure and themes see The Literary Development of John 13-17: A Chiastic Reading [SBLDS, 2000]) the Spirit provides the link between the disciples and the soon-to-be- absent Jesus that allows the "Abide in me!" instructions of the vine and branches teaching in 15:1-8 to make sense. When Jesus ascends to glory after his death and resurrection, it will be the Spirit who will function as Paraclete (advocate, counselor, and teacher are all various attempts at conveying the meaning of this Greek term), ever renewing the disciples' relationship with their master and friend.
This instruction on the night before Jesus' death helps us understand why Jesus would wait for ten days after his ascension before sending the promised Spirit (see Acts 1). Pentecost was one of the three high holidays of the Hebrew people, a yearly event during which every observant Jew would focus thoughts on the providential care of God and the constant need for God's blessing. Its importance can be seen in a legend first spoken by Rabbi El'azar ben Pedath: "Pentecost is the day on which Torah was given." In other words, God first spoke to his people Israel at Mount Sinai on the day now commemorated by Pentecost.
This complemented the significance infused into Pentecost by Old Testament commands for the celebration. It was supposed to be a special sabbath -- not the normal weekly event but a second sabbath day on which no work was to be done. All adherents were to assemble in the temple and bring with them the first sheaf from the fields, produced when the sickle was first put to the standing grain. This was to be waved before the Lord as an offering (Leviticus 23:11). From the realm of animal husbandry, two male lambs were to be offered (Leviticus 23:12). During these presentations all the men danced around the altar singing Psalms 113-118.
The theological edge came with this instruction: No further harvesting could take place until these first fruits were offered up to God. When the people had acknowledged that the harvest belonged to God, and that only God could bring in the rest of the harvest, were they free to begin roaming the fields for the thrill of reaping.
Suddenly, John's description of the Paraclete's place in helping the disciples serve as ambassadors of Jesus becomes clearer. Furthermore, the reason why Jesus delayed sending the Spirit until the visible expressions of theological meaning were portrayed in the Pentecost celebrations is fully understandable. God powerfully brings in the first of the mission harvest in Jerusalem and then the workers are dispatched worldwide to the rest of the fields.
Application
Today is a great day to speak of the fresh wind of God. The devastating power of storm winds (such as Hurricane Katrina) has been in the news. But through the church come tales of great winds of grace. One might do well to quote a number of the great hymns of faith, or have them sung within the worship celebrations of the day:
Breathe on me, breath of God,
till I am wholly thine;
till all this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
-- Hatch
Teach me to love thee as thine angels love
one holy passion filling all my frame
The baptism of the heaven-descended dove
my heart an altar and thy love the flame.
-- Croly
Or, as the Apostle Paul wrote to young pastor Timothy in Ephesus, "Fan into flame the gift of God which is in you!" (2 Timothy 1:6).
An Alternative Application
Romans 8:22-27. While it is always beneficial to read the biblical story of Pentecost on this day, it is sometimes helpful to preach from a different passage. The Romans text is particularly engaging for every congregation. There is no person who has not been touched by pain and suffering. In fact, an old Chinese legend tells of a woman who was deeply despondent because of the untimely death of her son, and went to a priest for comfort. Unable to console her, the priest offered this remedy: her agony of spirit would abate when she was able to bring to him a mustard seed from a home that had never known suffering.
In great hope, the woman set out on a quest to find relief from her heart's hurt. But traveling far and wide, she soon discovered that there was no home untouched by bereavement and no dwelling distant from pain. In the end, the woman found empathy rather than release, and devoted her life to helping others who suffered.
Paul's words about our hurting world and aching selves mirror universal need. On this Pentecost Sunday his teachings about God's caring Spirit are a message that connects quickly with hungry ears.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 104:24-34, 35b
In Christian tradition, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit as a partner on the journey (John 14:16; 15:26; 16:7), an advocate who will accompany us on our journey toward faithfulness. We hear the Pentecost story and delight in the dancing tongues of fire as they descend and create something new in their wake.
On Pentecost, we celebrate not only the arrival of the Advocate, but quite literally, the creation of Christian community as the Spirit enlivens and creates. As we claim anew this Spirit, as we celebrate this powerful gift, this psalm serves to remind us of the creative power of God's Spirit. "When you send forth your Spirit, they are created." The psalmist, of course, is speaking about the "creeping things innumerable," that give testimony to God's greatness.
But the point we are to take away with us is that it is God's Spirit that creates. It is God's Spirit that came as "a wind from God, sweeping over the face of the water" (Genesis 1:2). And it is God's Spirit that literally creates Christian community.
Just as that Spirit formed the oceans and the land, it forms us in community. Just as that Spirit created the countless forms of creatures and life, it creates us in the warp and woof of living community.
No wonder there are so many references in scripture to creation and new beginnings (such as 2 Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 6:15) as the early church struggled to find its feet! No wonder we see Jesus as a kind of new Adam (see Romans 5:14; 1 Corinthians 15:45). It is the power and the wonder of the Holy Spirit creating Christian community much in the same that that self-same Spirit created the world!
The coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost is no less an event of significance, then, than the creation of the world. If we could embrace that power of this notion, how might it change the way in which we approach and participate in our church communities? Perhaps on this Pentecost Day we might make a new start at treasuring both of God's creations. Perhaps we might reach out to halt the destruction of the earth and learn to treasure it more as stewards and caretakers than as owners and dominators. And then, perhaps we might also learn how to better treasure and care for that second creation: the gift of Christian community.
One account of a chinook wind appeared in Christian Courier some years ago (11/27/87):
It was one of those deceptively bone-chilling Alberta mornings when the sun shines so brightly in a cloudless sky that you think the warmth of heaven has swallowed up winter in its fire. But the first step out of the door crunches snow like gravel, and the biting claws of minus-forty-degree air tears at your nose and lungs. Your face even shrivels up into a grimace as your muscles pull back, each retreating behind others for protection.
The engine in my pickup truck groaned in agony, trying to lubricate itself with oil as thick as tar. And the vinyl seat was a cold stone throne, stoutly protesting the pastoral visits its young master was called to make. But driving westward near Picture Butte a strange and wonderful thing happened.
Something like a wall of air was moving toward me, a captivating sight that words can't really describe. There had been no wind at all when I left Iron Springs, but suddenly now my truck shuddered, slapped in the face by a violent blast. All of the chrome and metal parts of the vehicle clouded over with a frosty mist, and the windshield fogged dangerously. I pulled to the side of the road and stepped out -- only to find that the temperature was warm, already trying to push above the freezing mark! The chinook had arrived!
According to weather records, chinook winds rival hurricanes in speed, and rapidly raise temperatures. Calgary, Alberta, reported a 51-degree warm-up in four hours on February 7, 1964, and a 43 percent drop in humidity at the same time. While the name for the North American blast is derived from a tribe of Indians who lived in the area, similar winds are found in mountainous areas around the world. Sweeping down from the Andes, Argentinians call them zonda. In Switzerland the term is schneefresser, which translates as "snow eater."
Although any analogy is limited, the idea of a chinook wind or a "snow eater" seems a marvelous hook on which to hang today's teachings. In a world frozen over by sin's winter, the Pentecost wind blows in with the warmth of heaven and fans a spiritual passion that is still burning around the world. (Think of C. S. Lewis' Chronicles Of Narnia, and how, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Mr. Beaver laments that in his country it is "always winter but never Christmas," although things might be changing because there are reports that Aslan is on the move.) Luke's report in Acts 2 describes the incidents as they unfolded that first Pentecost Sunday. Paul breathes pastoral warmth as he talks about the power growing within when the Spirit takes root in our hearts. And the words of Jesus in the fourth gospel remind us that the Spirit is our only true link to the departed, ascended Jesus.
Acts 2:1-21
John Wesley once tried to explain why the crowds amassed when he stood to preach. He said, "God has set me on fire and people come out to watch me burn."
Something of that sort has been true ever since the first Pentecost Sunday when a sign of the Holy Spirit's presence was the consuming fire that distributed itself among the disciples. Years earlier, when John the Baptist preached his hellfire and damnation sermons on the banks of the Jordan River, he announced this day. He said to the gathering throngs, "I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me will come one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not fit to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire" (Matthew 3:11).
The symbolism of fire was particularly fitting for this occasion. God met Moses in the burning bush in the wilderness (Exodus 3). God led Israel through the deserts by means of a fiery cloud, and when God took up residence in the camp, it was heaven's shekinah glory light that enveloped the tabernacle. Fire had long proclaimed the living presence of God on earth.
But the peculiar actions of this particular flame, recorded by Luke, declared another important theological message. The fire was one, yet it divided itself into identical replicas above each individual in the place. The God whose unique fiery presence had stood over the tabernacle and temple now moved into the apartment complex of the church. God's single will invaded each room, each heart, and joined it with the others through a vast network of consuming love.
Furthermore, both the Hebrew (ruach) and Greek (pneuma) languages each have a single word that captures the ideas of "wind," "breath," and "spirit." Certainly, in reflection, the disciples couldn't help but recognize the parallels between themselves and young Adam in Genesis 2. He was only an inert blob of clay and water until the warm wind of God's breath gave him the life of the Spirit.
The sound of wind was a thrilling announcement of the powerful, loving, and life-giving Spirit of God. Sailors in ancient days sometimes got stuck in the quiet death of the doldrums near earth's equator. Nothing was more welcome, after weeks of listless apathy, than the mighty roar of heaven's unseen hand against their sails. In fact, in the 1800s, when a ship carrying missionary, Hudson Taylor, was becalmed near an island known for its cannibal residents, the crew grew fearful as the vessel drifted toward shore. Knowing Mr. Taylor's occupation and the strength of his convictions, the captain pleaded with him to pray to the Almighty for wind. Taylor agreed, but only on the condition that the captain unfurl the sails. This seemed foolish, for not a breath of air stirred. Still, Taylor was adamant and the captain, in fear, complied. Taylor went to his small room to pray. Soon a knock came at the door. It was the captain. "Are you still praying for wind?" he cried.
When Taylor affirmed that he was still wrestling with God, the captain said, "Well, you'd better stop now; we've got more wind than we can manage!" Wouldn't that be an amazing thing to hear in our worship gatherings today?
In quoting words from the prophet Joel, Peter links the coming of the Spirit to the great "Day of the Lord." As the life of Israel was chipped away in Old Testament times, ripped away by invaders, and tipped away by internal failures, the prophets increasingly looked forward to a time when God would once again directly intervene in human history to do three things: destroy the power of evil both in the nations around and within the people of Israel themselves; preserve a remnant of the chosen people as a testimony of God's goodness; and usher in the times of the messianic kingdom in which life would resonate with goodness and all creation would celebrate the return of its original goodness.
In a very real way, the wind of Pentecost Spirit signals the return of spring to Narnia. Aslan [Jesus] is on the move wherever the wind blows.
Romans 8:22-27
Paul gives a full history overview in his letter to the Romans. He talks about creation and the intrinsic connection between Creator and creature, as well as the fall into sin and how it disrupted this bond. In chapter 4, Paul reviews the days of the patriarchs, showing God's growing relationship with Abraham, the father of Israel. Chapter 5 pulls the story up to Jesus, outlining how his work provides the redemption that reinvigorates the old family tree of Adam that was wilting from the roots up. Then Paul makes things personal in chapters 6-7 as the struggles of spiritual warfare wrangle in every human heart. In chapter 8, the promise of a great outcome is given, as consummation is inferred.
Whatever it is that will happen to us and for us, however, has begun to take shape already through the inner presence of God's Spirit. Paul acknowledges the weaknesses, challenges, and ravages that have become part of our existence because of sin, but he doesn't stop there. The God who shaped our world in its beginnings is doing a powerful work of re-creation that has already sprouted wherever the Spirit roams. In a sense, it is Babel undone.
In Genesis 11, the whole human race, in the years after the great flood, adopts atheistic humanism as its working philosophy. "We don't need the God of the heavens!" is the rallying cry. "There is only one god, and he is us!"
The people begin to build their brave new world around themselves. A single skyscraper will house them all. The flagpole at the top will float the banner of freedom: a huge yellow smiling face with the words underneath, "I'm okay; you're okay!" All residents of earth are part of the city, but the God of heaven is confined to a hidden slum because he speaks a different language.
According to the Genesis story, God visits the construction site and makes a few alterations. At coffee time the next day, as the crews are reaching for their thermoses, the friendly bantering turns into verbal abuse. No one can make sense of the strange "babel" of others. Tempers flare as tensions slice through the community. Ethnic groupings form and people back away from one another with weapons drawn, isolating themselves behind military fences and in panic rooms.
Then, across the centuries and through 1,000 ethnic wars, as the bigoted minds of humans shun a child for the strange twist of a tongue, God steps out of heaven again. While the splintered world shakes its many heads in the "babel" of disbelief, a single voice pierces the fog of the divided mind. A single Word speaks love, and a single Spirit creates a new humanity, not based on the evils of human ingenuity but rather on the grace of divine forgiveness.
The God who once defused the power of evil by turning it into a cacophony of many dissonant voices at ancient Babel now binds the many into a single new humanity with the delightful miracle of tongues at Pentecost: "We hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!"
With these ideas in mind it is clear to see why Paul writes as he does. First, he brings the pastoral comfort of one who understands suffering. While Paul is more logically precise in his letter to the Roman Christians than in many of his other more rambling epistles, he is also very empathetic throughout. In chapter 8 and in the agonizing introspections of the previous chapter, Paul writes like someone who has known much of personal suffering and interior reflection.
Second, Paul ties together in quick order the creation-fall-redemption-consummation links he forged into an extended chain in the earlier chapters. Paul identifies the goodness of original creation, the agony experienced in a fallen world, the provisions of redemption, and the anticipation of the restoration in the coming age.
Third, the idea of creation suffering is a powerful motif. This perspective is unique to biblical literature. In other religions, the world around us is a trap which seeks to prevent us from full self-actualization, or a neutral territory which is mostly unaffected by human morality, or, at best, the natural order of things, which is basically good. And the best of human expression comes when societies give up civilization and return to innocence. Only in the theology of the Bible does the world emerge as a good creation of God, which suffers along with humankind for the sins introduced through the disobedience of God's first human partners.
Fourth, there is incredible comfort found in the idea of God's active investment on behalf of us. Even when we do not know what to ask of God or how to communicate with God, God is already, by way of the Spirit, reaching within us in kindness and empathizing with our mystifying need. We have an ally -- a divine ally. We have a divine ally who proactively reaches out to us like a mother anticipating the needs of her child. Reflecting again on the wind of Pentecost, our ship is pushed along through rough seas by the wind of God's grace, even when we lack the fuel to run the engines of our own making.
John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
The Spirit functions in a unique way in the theology of John. Within the "Farewell Discourse" of Jesus (John 13-17; for a thoughtful and accessible reflection on its structure and themes see The Literary Development of John 13-17: A Chiastic Reading [SBLDS, 2000]) the Spirit provides the link between the disciples and the soon-to-be- absent Jesus that allows the "Abide in me!" instructions of the vine and branches teaching in 15:1-8 to make sense. When Jesus ascends to glory after his death and resurrection, it will be the Spirit who will function as Paraclete (advocate, counselor, and teacher are all various attempts at conveying the meaning of this Greek term), ever renewing the disciples' relationship with their master and friend.
This instruction on the night before Jesus' death helps us understand why Jesus would wait for ten days after his ascension before sending the promised Spirit (see Acts 1). Pentecost was one of the three high holidays of the Hebrew people, a yearly event during which every observant Jew would focus thoughts on the providential care of God and the constant need for God's blessing. Its importance can be seen in a legend first spoken by Rabbi El'azar ben Pedath: "Pentecost is the day on which Torah was given." In other words, God first spoke to his people Israel at Mount Sinai on the day now commemorated by Pentecost.
This complemented the significance infused into Pentecost by Old Testament commands for the celebration. It was supposed to be a special sabbath -- not the normal weekly event but a second sabbath day on which no work was to be done. All adherents were to assemble in the temple and bring with them the first sheaf from the fields, produced when the sickle was first put to the standing grain. This was to be waved before the Lord as an offering (Leviticus 23:11). From the realm of animal husbandry, two male lambs were to be offered (Leviticus 23:12). During these presentations all the men danced around the altar singing Psalms 113-118.
The theological edge came with this instruction: No further harvesting could take place until these first fruits were offered up to God. When the people had acknowledged that the harvest belonged to God, and that only God could bring in the rest of the harvest, were they free to begin roaming the fields for the thrill of reaping.
Suddenly, John's description of the Paraclete's place in helping the disciples serve as ambassadors of Jesus becomes clearer. Furthermore, the reason why Jesus delayed sending the Spirit until the visible expressions of theological meaning were portrayed in the Pentecost celebrations is fully understandable. God powerfully brings in the first of the mission harvest in Jerusalem and then the workers are dispatched worldwide to the rest of the fields.
Application
Today is a great day to speak of the fresh wind of God. The devastating power of storm winds (such as Hurricane Katrina) has been in the news. But through the church come tales of great winds of grace. One might do well to quote a number of the great hymns of faith, or have them sung within the worship celebrations of the day:
Breathe on me, breath of God,
till I am wholly thine;
till all this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
-- Hatch
Teach me to love thee as thine angels love
one holy passion filling all my frame
The baptism of the heaven-descended dove
my heart an altar and thy love the flame.
-- Croly
Or, as the Apostle Paul wrote to young pastor Timothy in Ephesus, "Fan into flame the gift of God which is in you!" (2 Timothy 1:6).
An Alternative Application
Romans 8:22-27. While it is always beneficial to read the biblical story of Pentecost on this day, it is sometimes helpful to preach from a different passage. The Romans text is particularly engaging for every congregation. There is no person who has not been touched by pain and suffering. In fact, an old Chinese legend tells of a woman who was deeply despondent because of the untimely death of her son, and went to a priest for comfort. Unable to console her, the priest offered this remedy: her agony of spirit would abate when she was able to bring to him a mustard seed from a home that had never known suffering.
In great hope, the woman set out on a quest to find relief from her heart's hurt. But traveling far and wide, she soon discovered that there was no home untouched by bereavement and no dwelling distant from pain. In the end, the woman found empathy rather than release, and devoted her life to helping others who suffered.
Paul's words about our hurting world and aching selves mirror universal need. On this Pentecost Sunday his teachings about God's caring Spirit are a message that connects quickly with hungry ears.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 104:24-34, 35b
In Christian tradition, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit as a partner on the journey (John 14:16; 15:26; 16:7), an advocate who will accompany us on our journey toward faithfulness. We hear the Pentecost story and delight in the dancing tongues of fire as they descend and create something new in their wake.
On Pentecost, we celebrate not only the arrival of the Advocate, but quite literally, the creation of Christian community as the Spirit enlivens and creates. As we claim anew this Spirit, as we celebrate this powerful gift, this psalm serves to remind us of the creative power of God's Spirit. "When you send forth your Spirit, they are created." The psalmist, of course, is speaking about the "creeping things innumerable," that give testimony to God's greatness.
But the point we are to take away with us is that it is God's Spirit that creates. It is God's Spirit that came as "a wind from God, sweeping over the face of the water" (Genesis 1:2). And it is God's Spirit that literally creates Christian community.
Just as that Spirit formed the oceans and the land, it forms us in community. Just as that Spirit created the countless forms of creatures and life, it creates us in the warp and woof of living community.
No wonder there are so many references in scripture to creation and new beginnings (such as 2 Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 6:15) as the early church struggled to find its feet! No wonder we see Jesus as a kind of new Adam (see Romans 5:14; 1 Corinthians 15:45). It is the power and the wonder of the Holy Spirit creating Christian community much in the same that that self-same Spirit created the world!
The coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost is no less an event of significance, then, than the creation of the world. If we could embrace that power of this notion, how might it change the way in which we approach and participate in our church communities? Perhaps on this Pentecost Day we might make a new start at treasuring both of God's creations. Perhaps we might reach out to halt the destruction of the earth and learn to treasure it more as stewards and caretakers than as owners and dominators. And then, perhaps we might also learn how to better treasure and care for that second creation: the gift of Christian community.
