Readings: Ezekiel 37: 1 – 14; Acts 2: 1 – 21; John 15: 26 – 27, 16: 14b – 15
“Where is that fire which once descended
On thy Apostles? Thou didst then
Keep open house, richly attended,
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men.
Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow,
That th’earth did like a heav’n appeare;”
So writes George Herbert in his poem Whitsunday. He goes on to lament that things are not quite the same in the church of the 17th century as they were in the headier early days. He complains to God:
“Thou shutt’st the doore, and keep’st within;
Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink;”
We might hope that our worship here at Hampstead Parish Church allows at least a modicum of joy to creep in from time to time. But the story of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost (or Whitsun) may leave us, with Herbert, wondering what on earth has happened to all of that life and energy. How does it relate to us in the 21st century?
The writer of Acts uses metaphors of ‘wind’ and ‘fire’ in his attempt to describe the arrival of the Holy Spirit. What do they suggest? Wind is often completely unpredictable; it comes and goes, is not biddable or controllable. Fire suggests both safety and danger; warmth, light, protection, but the possibility of destruction too. Both are mysterious and powerful. Both can be devastating. Think of the pictures after a forest fire or a tornado. Everything swept away, flattened, and the landscape transformed. The only possibility is a whole new beginning.
Pentecost is both a new landscape and a new beginning. On the feast of Pentecost, first century Jews remembered the giving of the law to Moses on Mount Sinai. This was accompanied by thunder and lightning, thick smoke and earth tremours indicating the fiery presence of God (Exodus 19:16f). The Law heralded a new Covenant relationship between God and His chosen nation, Israel. This was mediated through particular chosen agents – prophets and leaders, on whom God’s spirit fell, often for specific tasks. But later came the promise that one day God’s spirit would be more widely available. As we heard in our reading from Acts the prophet Joel records:
“I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions” (Acts 2:17/Joel 2: 28).
And, as we heard in our Gospel reading, Jesus had also promised a special gift to His disciples, the Advocate, or the Spirit of Truth. Here, then, is another new beginning in God’s relationship with humanity; the beginning of the Church.
We might argue about what exactly happened. We might argue about our own experience or expectations of the Holy Spirit. One thing is certain. At Pentecost, the apostles were transformed. They were brought to new life, purpose and vigour, as surely as the bones in Ezekiel’s vision were brought back to be living, breathing people. The energy of Pentecost was like an explosion, moving outwards in waves from its epicentre and bringing people into encounter with Christ. Some received Him, others remained sceptical.
So how do we relate to all that life and energy?
Well, first of all, we wouldn’t be here without it. For the Holy Spirit has witnessed down the centuries, sometimes through the church and sometimes despite it, to the reality of our risen Lord, and His presence with us. In that sense, we are all Pentecostals!
Our Gospel reading perhaps helps us to grasp a little more just what is the role of the Spirit. Most leaders who start a new religious or philosophical movement take trouble to provide careful instructions about it. But Jesus did no such thing. Indeed he tells his followers that he would like to do something like this, but that now is not the moment; He knows they won’t be able to take it all in (John 16:12). So He leaves behind very little; only His life and His sayings as they have come down to us. He counts instead on a living person, the Spirit of Truth, the Advocate or Helper, the third person of the Godhead, to remind His followers of His words and actions. That Spirit will illuminate the meaning of Jesus’ words by shedding on them the light of His death and resurrection. In that way the Spirit will “glorify” Jesus.
The Spirit thus leads us neither to brand-new truths nor towards knowledge that will add to what Jesus has already bequeathed to us. But the Spirit will guide us to the fullness of Truth from within, giving us a more correct understanding of that truth which is Jesus. The Spirit will make us aware of the impact of that truth in the new situations we are going to face. This applies both to churches and to individuals, to our personal and our public life, as we seek to find a path through our complex, challenging and ever-changing world.
As the early church quickly discovered, no individual or group will ever be able to grasp the whole of this truth on their own. We need one another – both within our community here and Christians from other cultures and traditions. Some of these may be people with whom we profoundly disagree. But we have all received the Spirit. And we need one another if we are to discover more of the Truth of Christ so that we can root our lives ever deeper in Him. And we, here in Hampstead, who enjoy the fact that we are so articulate, perhaps need to learn to listen more and to talk less. Because the Spirit doesn’t often come in thunder and lightning, wind or flames of fire. Much more often the Spirit comes in a thought or a moment of silence, or a quiet recognition of deep unity amongst those who can’t agree.
We might all raise our expectations of the Holy Spirit’s working in our lives and join our prayer for this Whitsunday with Herbert’s:
“Lord, though we change, thou art the same;
The same sweet God of love and light:
Restore this day, for thy great name,
Unto his ancient and miraculous right.”
Amen