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ALL: Thank you Holy Wisdom for the Holy Word. May our ears be open to hear, may our minds be quiet to understand, may our hearts be bursting to share. Amen.
2When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
5Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
14But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say…”
Person 1: That big Galilean is speaking, but it’s not his voice I hear. He speaks with my mother’s voice – a voice that’s warm, that sounds like it’s echoing out of the kitchen as she prepares my favourite meal. A voice that’s just a little bit annoying in that “have you got your phone/done your homework/don’t stay out late” way. It’s a voice I know in my heart.
Person 2: That man is speaking, but he’s not speaking. I hear my baby’s voice – calling out in gurgling expressions that are not words but are clear and full of meaning. I know what each sound means, and how I need to respond. It’s a voice that I know in my heart and my soul.
Person 3: He looks like a Galilean, but he’s not speaking like one. He’s speaking in my grandfather’s voice – big and booming, tinged with laughter and dry humour, full of acute commentary. I haven’t heard this voice for such a long time, he’s been dead many years but his voice still remains in my heart.
Person 4: I’m looking at him, but I’m not hearing his voice, I’m hearing the voice of my childhood neighbour, that dear lady who seemed to always know when to turn up with a small offering of kindness – home-grown fruit and vegetables, jam and preserves, little hand-made gifts each birthday. She didn’t speak much, her accent was thick and she struggled translating from her native language to our shared one, she was so generous her voice has remained with me always.
Person 5: I’m taken by surprise. It’s like this man is speaking personally to me. How does he know my pet name? It’s not a name anyone else uses – only my partner. It’s a name we use when we’re reassuring and comforting each other, when we’re holding each other up when times are tough, when enjoying precious moments together. Hearing this name being spoken in this voice creates a reaction in me that comes straight from my heart.
Person 6: Uncanny that this man speaks just like my friend. We have known each other so long. We have seen each other through turbulent times and have celebrated each other’s successes, we know each other’s tastes and can pick each other’s preferences on any menu. It’s strange to think that someone else could possibly be as close to me, but hearing this voice as made me open my heart to that possibility.
Person 7: That man is speaking in my secret voice, the one that only I know, that silent, voice that I hold inside. The one that processes my thoughts and holds my memories and creates stories and poems and keeps me awake at night. I have never heard it aloud before, it has always existed without speech. How can this be that someone can know what I only ever hold in my heart?
Usually at Pentecost we focus on the glossalia—the speaking in tongues or languages that the common fisher folk of Galilee would never have known. And we have tried to recreate what that might have sounded like in this very room.
Today, the voices--dreamed up by Seasons of the Spirit--try to get at something else. They talk about a mother’s voice, a baby’s voice, a grandfather’s voice, a childhood neighbor’s voice, a partner’s voice, a friend’s voice, our own secret voice. It makes you wonder: Is it just the specific language used (like English or Spanish or Egyptian) that allows us to hear the message coming from God? Or can we “hear” better if the “voice,” the one speaking, is familiar to us?
I had a professor of preaching who said, “If you are preaching blue, and the congregation is thinking yellow, what they will hear is green.” In other words, our situation, our context, even our emotions, might “color” what we hear. So at Pentecost maybe it’s not just the words spoken, the language used, that is important—but the “voice,” the connection, which can help us hear the message!
As a retelling of the Acts story puts it.
“How can this be? Jesus’ followers are from Galilee. They speak Aramaic. But I heard that God loves me in my own language,” said the one from Mesopotamia.
“I heard that the realm of God is within us in my own language,” said the one from Egypt.
“I heard that we are all part of God’s family in mine,” said the one from Rome.
“I heard that God loves everyone – Jew and Gentile, Roman and Greek,” said the one from Libya.
“And that’s not all you’ll hear,” Peter their leader said, “God’s Spirit speaks clearly to all hearts that are open. God’s Spirit will speak through young and old, male and female, boys and girls.”
Pentecost is often called the birthday of the church. And it is certainly a spectacular group experience of God’s Spirit. Spirit experiences have happened to all kinds of people, from the beginning until now. The day of Pentecost reminds us that Jesus intended for us to be community. To hear God’s message together. Even if we “go out” to spread the good news, we are not to be lone rangers.
For Pentecost underlines the fact that sometimes to hear, someone else has to do the speaking! And that means we need each other. To hear the other into speech. To listen to what we have to say. To interpret what God is doing right here and now. To prod each other into following where the Spirit leads.
A beautiful poem by Jan Richardson sparked some of this musing. I would like to share it with you.
When We Breathe Together
A Blessing for Pentecost Day
This is the blessing
we cannot speak
by ourselves.
This is the blessing
we cannot summon
by our own devices,
cannot shape
to our purpose,
cannot bend
to our will.
This is the blessing
that comes
when we leave behind
our aloneness
when we gather
together
when we turn
toward one another.
This is the blessing
that blazes among us
when we speak
the words
strange to our ears
when we finally listen
into the chaos
when we breathe together
at last.
(See more at: http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/05/14/pentecost-when-we-breathe-together/#sthash.kS24V4Fk.dpuf)
For the next few moments I would like us to put Pentecost into practice. Find someone to talk with, and share:
What voice do you hear proclaiming God’s message to you?
OR
What is the message you hear from God?
OR
Have you had an experience of God’s Spirit in your life?
ALL: Thank you Holy Wisdom for the Holy Word. May our ears be open to hear, may our minds be quiet to understand, may our hearts be bursting to share. Amen.
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