Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ

053109-Click-Here-to-Play

Preached by Winton Boyd on May 31st, 2009

Text: Acts 2

We had a discussion in Java and Jesus a couple of weeks ago about the difference between ending the Scripture reading in worship with the words, “this is the word of God” verses “this is the witness of God’s people.” The author of the article, a pastor in Canada, shared that this phrase is a helpful one as we embody our belief that God is still speaking. It underscores that the Scriptures are deeply shaped and influenced by the people who wrote them. It highlights that all of us, ancients and moderns alike, are trying to understand the movement of God in our lives as best we can. What makes us faithful is not that we ‘get it right’ but that we live with gratitude for the ways we see and hear and feel the spirit of God move in our lives.

And so we come to this famous Pentecost story, wild with its language and spirit – and read it as we do all of Scripture – as a witness, a testimony, an attempt to put into words that which is indefinable. As the writer, seeks to bear witness to the Spirit in his world, he draws on the witness of those who have gone before him. (Source: UCC Sermon Seeds)

• He drew heavily on the creation stories of Genesis as he sought to describe something that surely felt like creation all over again, with wind and fire, and something new bursting forth.
• He drew on the story of the Tower of Babel in the Old Testament as he described this amazing linguistic experience of speaking in other languages yet being understood by people of many different lands, the names of which represented the known world at that time.
• Fire, wind, and humble Galileans speaking persuasively in many tongues were dramatic signs that God was doing a new thing that would transform the lives of all those present, and far beyond, in time and place.
• Commentators agree in pointing out that Joel (who Peter quoted in his impromptu sermon) was speaking ominously of destruction and death, while Peter speaks of the promise of new life. In Peter’s interpretation, “the living words of the scriptures continue to nurture and guide the people of God, even as they move into new circumstances offering new realities and challenges.”(Matthew Skinner)

Peter does what we too need to do today. Right in the midst of these astounding and undoubtedly confusing events, he interprets them as he experiences them. “Peter does not perceive in advance what God is doing; he discovers it as he goes along. His resources for making sense of God’s activities through believers are his own past and present experiences and the scriptures that record the stories of God from the past. Peter does not interpret scripture so much as he is pressed to interpret the present moment through the defining lens of the scriptural witness.”(Skinner)

If we are to do what Peter did – to look for God in the midst of the events and happenings of our life, and to interpret these events through the lens of faith; the task on this Pentecost is not to ask why don’t we see tongues of fire, but rather where do we see the Wind of the Spirit blowing in our lives? The same Spirit that drew the little band of disciples out into the world also shaped them into a community. How are we drawn both into the world and into community?

One could spend a whole Pentecost season talking how the Spirit is working in our lives and accompanying images for the purpose of the church. But as we come to the end of spring, the end of a school year, the end of an interim pastorate, and the transition into summer and all it brings for us – I would offer three simple images of how the Spirit might be working in our midst. Three images that might help us put language to that which is often beyond language – the abiding presence of God in our lives. These are not exhaustive images, but maybe just timely ones for the spring of 2009.

1. The first image is that of the church as a hosting community. I recently read a wonderful article in the Christian Century about Holy Nativity Episcopal Church in the Westchester neighborhood of Los Angeles. Finding your way in the church, the article said, is difficult not because you can’t find the door, but because there are so many. Speaking metaphorically as much as physically, the story describes this church with a meditation center, a community garden, and environmental change makers group, cooking classes, and jazz worship. Drawing on the old monastic mission of simply welcoming weary travelers, the pastor says that everyone who comes through the doors, people of faith and people of no faith, brings a gift. The goal of the church is to provide a place where people can connect with their passion and then deepen and grow. No one needs to dictate or direct such passion. Leadership involves learning how to host. Turning on its head the all too common notion that we are the ones who understand God and we are the ones who must tell it to others – a hosting community assumes and believes that each person coming through the door – regardless of their beliefs or profession of faith – has something to offer us about the life of faith and hope. As hosts we recognize we grow by welcoming others.

On this Pentecost Sunday, we are then invited to consider how it is that we “host” others – in this church and in our lives. How do we make a place of welcome – without judgment or condition? How do we honor all gifts? How do we turn our hearts, our homes, and our church into a monastery – a place of safety, welcome, comfort and sustenance for all? What judgments, expectations, requirements and hurts do we need to turn over to the Spirit, to give up to God in prayer, so that we might host others as God as hosted us?

2. The church as a place of simple authenticity. In a lovely song called Betty’s Diner, singer/songwriter Carrie Newcomer describes in today’s vernacular this Pentecost kind of community. The context of her song is a small town diner where regulars come for a cup of coffee, served by the proprietor, Betty.
Here we are all in one place, the wants and wounds of the human race
Despair and hope sit face to face
When you come in from the cold, let her fill your cup with something kind
Eggs and toast like bread and wine, she’s heard it all so she don’t mind.

Arthur lets his Earl Grey steep
Since April it’s been hard to sleep
You know they tried most everything
Yet it took her in the end

Kevin tests new saxophones
But swears he’s leaving quality control
For the Chicago scene, or New Orleans
Where they still play righteous horns

Jack studies here after work
To get past high school he’s the first
And his large hands seem just as comfortable
With a hammer or a pen
Emma leaned and kissed his cheek
And when she did his knees got weak
Miranda smiles at Em and wink

Here we are all in one place, the wants and wounds of the human race
Despair and hope sit face to face
When you come in from the cold, let her fill your cup with something kind
Eggs and toast like bread and wine, she’s heard it all so she don’t mind.

You never know who’ll be your witness
You never know who grants forgiveness
Look to heaven or sit with us

(Carrie Newcomer, Betty’s Diner)

Coffee, eggs and toast become symbols for the shared life of a community. In the church we call that communion. The song paints a picture – one appropriate for the Spirit filled church – where we can come as we are – bearing the wants and wounds of the human race, where despair and hope sit face to face. We come to know others and be known. We come to appreciate the quirkiness of one another, the blessed rage at life’s injustices, and the simple but profound joys that sweep over us – sometimes the result of hard work and other times quite unexpectedly. It is to live, as one theologian said, aware of the ‘living mystery of absolute fullness, who is nameless and beyond imagination, (who) has drawn near to us amid the tangle of our lives through Jesus and the gift of grace, even when we do not realize it, in order to be our salvation, splendor and support over the abyss. “ (E. Johnson, Quest for the Living God, p. 44). Let their be no mistaking – living with authenticity is hard and challenging and demanding. It is a choice.

3. A place of messy opportunity. Someone gave me a reading – some might even call it a sappy reading – this week that I think sums up well what a Pentecost church looks like in our age. It comes from an old Presbyterian newsletter, although it is attributed to the First Congregational Church of Winchester, MA.

A lively church, a Pentecost church, has parking problems, a dead church doesn’t.
A lively church has lots of ‘noisy’ children and young people, a dead church is fairly quiet.
A lively church often changes the way things are done, a dead church doesn’t have to.
A lively church often asks for more program and mission money, a dead church has plenty of money for what it does.
A lively church asks people to open up and risk involvement; a dead church plays it safe and never risks.
A lively church sees challenges and opportunities, a dead church sees problems and dangers.
A lively, Pentecost church apologizes, forgives and seeks forgiveness, a dead church never makes mistakes.
A lively church uses its tradition and facilities to serve people, a dead church uses people to preserve facilities and traditions.
A lively church believes in God’s future and “lets go” with faith, a dead church believes in the past and “holds on.”
A lively church – listen to this – is filled with committed givers, a dead church is filled with tippers.
A lively church dares to dream great dreams in pursuit of the realm of God, a dead church has nightmares.

In our efforts to bear witness to God moving in our lives, may our hearts be open to hosting others, may the tables, porches, living rooms and gardens around which we gather be filled with authentic interaction, and may we respond to the sometimes messy, always lively life of the Spirit to which we are called.  Amen.

Today’s Text from Acts 2
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

But 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. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: ‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”