The Rev. Carol Wedell
May 31, 2009

For just a minute close your eyes and pay attention to your breathing.  Now consciously take a deeper breath and let it out slowly.  Again. Most of us, me included, rush through our days so fast that we rarely take good deep breaths. 

During the course of your day, some of you might find yourselves almost forgetting to breathe, let alone breathe deeply. We go from task to task, from stress to stress, from activity to activity, from need to need. And before we know it, we are simply breathless.

Have you noticed that when people are upset, someone will inevitably say, "It's OK.  Just sit down here and take a deep breath."  There is good reason for this advice.  Paying attention to one's breathing and breathing deeply are built-in stress and anxiety reducers.  Therapists and yoga instructors among many others have long understood this.  While breathing is essential for life, deep breathing is necessary for living. 

Perhaps you have also noticed that the quality of the air you breathe impacts you emotionally - and physically.  A crowded elevator filled with 6^th grade boys straight from gym class; the small room that houses the litter box, or a cocktail party where too many people are crammed into too small a space with too much perfume, alcohol and smoke and I, for one, find myself scrambling to the nearest exit and a breath of fresh air. Riding in the back seat of the car or bus, especially on a curvy road, will send many of us to the nearest window or door.

We may also seek out that life-giving clean air when the room we're in is filled with emotional vibes that we find uncomfortable.  For some that will be tension and conflict.  Others may get overwhelmed by intense grief or sadness.  Volatile anger and nasty sarcasm will send others of us running. On every level we need fresh air to flow through our bodies and replenish the energy that we so desperately need.

Our reading from the book of Acts tells of another group who needed some fresh air, a fresh start.  Jesus' disciples are together in a small room, where I would guess the air was anything but fresh.  The smell of food and sweat probably filled the air.  Fear and doubt and anxiety would have been palpable. And then, we are told, something occurred that truly cleared the air.

The event spoken of in the book of Acts occurred during a Jewish festival which is 50 days after Passover, one of three festivals when Jews from all over the region came to Jerusalem.  That's why so many people from so many places, speaking so many languages were present that day.  Pilgrims from all over the world were there.

Luke tells us that along with much of the Jewish world, 120 of Jesus' best friends were also in Jerusalem.  What a roller coaster they had been on!  They had just begun to comprehend that for Jesus, the crucifixion was not the final word.  Just a few days before Jesus had left them for good, ascending to heaven.  Think of what he left behind - great memories, changed lives, powerful promises - and a lot of unfinished business.  The disciples knew that there was an amazing amount of work left to do, yet they couldn't even imagine where to start.  They were tired, emotionally drained, and grief-stricken.  Things had changed dramatically, and would never again be the same.

So they cocoon together.  You can almost picture them, so exhausted and frightened that they don't say much, with that phased look that too often accompanies shock. They just sit there, waiting for something -- anything - to get them moving again. 

And while they are there together, Luke tells us that before the disciples knew what was happening, out of the blue, they heard a mighty wind heading their way. The wind blew through the entire house, filling each of them with a breath that came from somewhere else, Someone Else. The wind, the breath, filled them with a power they did not understand. They had not asked for this breath nor expected it. This power, this breath, this courage just swooped into the room and filled them up in a way they could have never predicted. And with it, they discovered a reserve of strength they did not know they possessed. They came face to face, lung to lung, with the gift of God's Holy Spirit, God's holy breath.

We can only imagine how the writer of the books of Luke and Acts tried to find words to describe an indescribable experience. You can tell that he is searching for what to say.  "Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind.  That little word "like" is the hint.  What occurred was like something else, but it wasn't the thing itself. What is important are not the particulars of the metaphor, but how the experience of those present that day changed and emboldened them to spread the good news.  Luke chooses the potent, wild metaphor of wind.

Whatever occurred wasn't simply a light breeze, but a violent wind that cleared everything out of its path.  You can be sure that the air was cleared of anything that had been there before. To these disciples who were overwhelmed by what life had dealt them, wanting to follow the God they had known so personally in Jesus, yet not knowing how, the Spirit came.  Then "tongues as of fire" fell upon each one of them, so that they all spoke different languages, the languages of all the people who had come to town for the festival. It was an outpouring of the very life of God, touching every person that was present with strength and energy.

Traditionally this has been understood to mean that these people who had come from so many parts of the world, whose native languages all differed from one another, now could understand what the disciples said because they heard the language of their own region.  Yet in my research this week, I read one commentator who noted that as Jews, all of them would have spoken and understood Hebrew.  This same commentator also suggested that the people who came, obviously had the financial resources to travel, and so likely were well-versed in Greek as well.  If that's true, what do these "different languages" mean?

Perhaps it is simply saying that the lines of communication were now open.  Regardless of background, or country, or education or wealth, the barriers that would have kept each person in place no longer existed.  The people who had gathered had opened their ears.  The disciples had realized that you can only speak a "language" that a person will understand.

Barbara Kingsolver, in her novel, The Poisonwood Bible, tells the story of a family who traveled as missionaries to the Congo in the 1950's.  "Jesus is bangala !" proclaims Rev. Nathan Price, to a group of confused villagers.  Their confusion stems from Rev. Prices' failure to catch the nuances of the local languages' use of tone and cadence.  While he meant to say something like "Jesus is supreme," what came out was "Jesus is poisonwood" - the name for a local plant with horribly irritating qualities.  The novel depicts Price's continued unwillingness to preach in the language of the people's traditions and needs. Unlike the disciples, his communication skills were found sadly lacking because he thought only his language and cultural viewpoint was good enough.

But that day in Jerusalem, the disciples found themselves able to communicate in ways that each person present could understand.  They spoke many different languages, because no one person was the same as another. And they weren't quiet about it.  Those formerly timid men and women raised such a ruckus that they were accused of being drunk!  Peter, the same one who had betrayed Jesus such a short time before, rises to the occasion, himself filled with that same life-giving Spirit, and preaches so powerfully that 3000 people come to believe in Jesus. The air was fresh indeed that day!

Did you notice that it wasn't those in the crowd who changed their communication style?  Rather, through the breath of the Spirit, the disciples spoke in languages unique to each person: to the wealthy business man, the poor widow, the newly betrothed couple, the old man, whose diminished physical abilities had left him broken, the young child eager to know what all the excitement was about - to all who were there, so they could understand how the story of Jesus and God's love were for them, regardless of their life circumstance.  And all of those different folk began to understand that the fresh air of God's Spirit was right there among them.

Former Moderator of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, Susan Andrews tells a Hasidic tale in which the rabbi asks his student, "Where is the Spirit of God?" The student answers with a biblical phrase, "...the whole universe resounds with his glory." And the rabbi says, "No." "What do you mean, no?" "God is where you let God come in," says the rabbi. "And the Holy Spirit is the power that ushers God into our lives."

(With thanks to Andrea Le Sonde Anastos in The Ministers Annual Manual 2008-2009, for the essence, and sometimes exact wording of what follows)

Friends, did you notice that all of the disciples were filled with the Spirit?  Every one.  And not just everyone there in Jerusalem that day.  All of the disciples of Jesus are filled with that amazing, life-giving breath.  Can you imagine what our congregation would look like and sound like if tongues of fire were dancing over the heads all of us-and every single one was filled with the Spirit and speaking in a different language?

How many of us would instantly be quiet because we didn't want to attract attention to ourselves?  How many of us would raise our voices a little louder than everyone else, assuming that what we had to say was more important than our neighbor?  How many of you would try to hush up the children?  (Have you ever considered that our chattering toddlers or crying babies may simply be filled with the Spirit?)  How many of us would be looking around wondering what the visitors were thinking?

Here is the good news:  every single one of us, man, woman and child are being filled with the Spirit even as I speak. Can you hear it?  If you press the pause button on the ceaseless chatter in your head, can you hear the thundering silence?  Close your eyes, and give yourself permission to welcome God's Spirit. It's there: a whisper, a hum, a murmur, a call or shout.

The Holy Spirit is here dancing on your head.  What is it saying?  What is it inviting you to say to the world?  I'm guessing that for most of us the most difficult thing about being gifted with God's fresh breath, is realizing that we have been given that gift not for our own good, but rather for the good of the world.  We have been entrusted with a critical message that the world needs to hear.  Not just from me.  Not just members of Session.  Not just those over 21.  Each one of you has a message the world needs to hear.  And every message has its own unique twist.

That means that no one else is able to speak your message. If you don't tell the story of God's love in you, who will? Even more, what about the person who needs to hear your particular story in order to be healed of despair or comforted in grief?  What about the one who needs your voice, your language to be loved when they are lonely or trusted when they doubt even themselves?

That day in Jerusalem all of the people who had gathered heard the believers speak in a language that they could understand. Underneath the differences of nationality and language, there was a fundamental unity that enlivened and changed, profoundly the many who were there. To hear what the Spirit would say today we have our own barriers that need to be broken down: religious upbringing, economic class, educational background and even basic personality types. Yet do we doubt that there are people in the banks, in the mall, in the video arcades, in the boardroom or bar that need to hear a story about hope and vision and joy and justice in a language they can understand?

You can be sure that it will mean leaving our "churchy" language here.  We can't count on the "language" we've spoken all of our lives to speak to those who know nothing about the God whom we know through Jesus Christ.  We're going to have to trust that new language given to us by the Holy Spirit.  The vernacular of the day may well fit the bill.  In fact, our language might not include words at all, but actions that speak volumes. Are you fluent in "teenager"?  Do you know the right words to communicate "senior"?

The Holy Spirit may be empowering you to "speak" a week in South Dakota on the Lake Traverse reservation, respectfully learning another language.  It may empower those of you who are older to "adopt" a child or teen whose grandparents do not live nearby.  The Spirit may break through your hesitation and allow you to sit down next to someone you don't know, or start a conversation with an adult you've never met, or to not just give food to the Foodbank, but time, as well. It will almost always move you beyond your comfort zone, carried by the wind of God as it clears the air.

Pentecost was never about individuals, or even the body of Christ being renewed for its own sake.  That breath of fresh air is given to us so that we will find ways to share it in the world. The celebration of Pentecost reminds us to take a deep breath and remain open to the Spirit the Spirit who searches for places to breathe new life, fresh air, into us, to transform us, to knit us together more deeply and wholly as the body of Christ, and to send us forth into the world. Quiet.  Take a deep breath.  Can you hear it?