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The day of Pentecost began in fear but ended in fire. They were still afraid, those disciples, on the morning of Pentecost. They were still in that room, huddled together, seeking safety in numbers. They must have told and re-told their stories of their encounters with the Risen Lord, but there was more fear in that room than fire. Luke, it’s true, both in his gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles, tells us that on Pentecost the disciples were gathered together, awaiting the promised gift of the Spirit, but John tells it differently. John tells us that they had already received the Holy Spirit. Fifty days before, on the evening of the first day of the week, the day of his resurrection, Jesus had come into the locked room where they were gathered. “Peace,” he had said to them. And he said it again. And then he had breathed on them -- much as God had breathed life into Adam at the creation -- he breathed on them and breathed into them the Spirit that was so alive in him, the Spirit who had raised him from the dead. So make no mistake, the Spirit was already with the disciples when the morning of Pentecost came, but the Spirit was asleep in them -- stifled, I think, by fear. And how human and believable is that! Grace builds on nature and transforms it, it is true, but nature often fights mightily against grace. And so, even though the word they had heard over and over again from their risen master was “do not fear,” they were still afraid, these disciples: afraid for themselves, afraid of the world outside, maybe even afraid of the Spirit within them. All this is to say that what we celebrate and remember on Pentecost is not the first coming of the Spirit on the disciples, but the coming of the Spirit in fire, consuming their fears in a flash and sending them out of that locked room and into the streets, fired up with a message that has changed the face of the earth. My friends, I believe that our own stories parallel those of the first disciples. In one way or another we all know the story of the Spirit received but stifled by fear. Just as the Easter gift of the Spirit lay dormant in the disciples until it was liberated by the wind and fire of Pentecost, so, too, the gift of the Spirit we received in our baptism and confirmation is often asleep within us, the prisoner of our fears, awaiting liberation. Pentecost could be that liberation. But liberation can be a frightening thing. Liberation means freedom but it also means change. It means leaving comfort zones and letting go of comfortable securities. It means standing up, and standing out. It means surrendering control and allowing God to lead us in new directions. The liberating Spirit of Pentecost sent the disciples out into the streets, out into the crossroads of the known world – to conquests and controversies, to trials as well as triumphs. Ultimately, the Spirit turned their lives into near carbon copies of their master’s. Not surprisingly. It was, after all, His Spirit that was leading them and driving them! In light of this, is it any wonder that we might prefer the safety of locked-up lives -- carefully regulated and undisturbed lives -- where the Spirit remains quietly and comfortably dormant in us? There is safety in such a life, and a kind of peace. But there is no fire, no passion, and Pentecost has not happened. But, my friends, Pentecost has happened. Or maybe I should say Pentecost is happening. God’s Spirit is in us, waiting to be released. Longing to be released. And God’s Spirit is the Spirit of fire, not of fear: a fire burning within, capable of freeing us from our locked-up selves and propelling us to take the gospel out to the streets. But we can be so timid about this, can’t we? The other day I was visiting with a fellow who helps greet and welcome guests at the door of the Cathedral Kitchen. He’s African American and I doubt he’s Catholic. His religious language sounded more “born again” than ours. We talked about a number of things but, before long, he spontaneously and, I thought, very comfortably began telling me about his faith in Jesus. I couldn’t help but be taken with the clarity and courage with which he did this. And it had nothing at all to do with my being a priest: he just wanted me to know how important Jesus was to him, and how his faith was the center of his life, and how it influenced everything he did. To be honest, I found myself wishing I could be as spontaneous and comfortable as he in giving witness to my faith. The pulpit is one thing. You expect it here and it’s pretty safe, but the street corner is quite another! My friends, the disciples began their Pentecost huddled in fear, and that may be true of us, too. But the same Spirit that set the disciples of Jesus on fire is alive in us, too – maybe a little dormant, but alive. There is only one thing in the way: our fear. May the fire of God’s Spirit and the transforming power of the Eucharist we now celebrate, consume our fears and truly set us free! Father Michael G. Ryan |
Pentecost