A Real Shomer Shabbos

"Now Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day." But the Lord answered him and said, "You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?" When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing."

--Luke 13: 10-17

Bible pop quiz! How many commandments are there? If you said 10, you’re wrong; the grand total is 613. Let’s try another one: which is the fourth commandment? “Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.” This commandment is given in Exodus, chapter 20, verse 8 and again in Deuteronomy, chapter 5, verse 12. The Exodus version ties Sabbath back to the rest that God took after the six days of creation, hallowing the seventh day as a day on which no work should be done. In Deuteronomy, however, the commandment is tied to the Exodus event itself, whereby God reminds the people that under Pharaoh they worked as slaves, tirelessly, night and day, and that, unlike in Egypt, every person in their midst should observe Sabbath rest. It’s not a suggestion, it’s an expectation.

It is on a Sabbath’s day – Saturday – that Jesus is in a synagogue teaching, which, for what it’s worth, was not considered work because it wasn't transactional. While there he notices a woman who is suffering from an illness so debilitating that she’s permanently hunched over. She does not approach him, nor does she ask for anything, but seeing her in this condition, Jesus calls her over and pronounces that she is set free. Then he places his hands on her and she immediately stands upright. Even though it had been ok for him to teach, it was not, evidently, ok for him to do any healing. This did count as work, and as Walter from The Big Lebowski reminds us, the aim of any good Jew is to be shomer Shabbos, a keeper of the Sabbath. This interaction, which is witnessed by a crowd of people, is enough to send one of the synagogue leaders into a passive-aggressive frenzy. Rather than directly confronting Jesus, a fellow rabbi, he throws the woman under the proverbial bus: “Now’s not a good time, come back tomorrow!” His ire, though, is meant for Jesus, this delinquent who appears to not understand the commandment that there are six days for working; he seems to be anything but shomer Shabbos.

John Goodman as Walter in The Big Lebowski.

Or is he? Jesus performs an act of mercy on someone, something that should be perfectly fine on the Sabbath, given that it’s ok for someone to untie their mule and give it water; so if it’s alright to be merciful to an animal on this day, why not a person? This response, according to our text, shames the leaders and excites the folks who have witnessed this miracle. Is it any wonder that this is the last time we see Jesus in a synagogue in Luke’s Gospel? 

This confrontation speaks to the tension between the bountiful gift of salvation that God provides and the human desire to control it. I’d like to think that this particular leader of a religious community is not a malicious person, but someone trying so hard to figure out the correct thing to do that he misses what is the right thing to do. Again, like Walteri, he’s not wrong, he’s just a…..jerk. As the scholar William Barclay points our, “Jesus insisted that suffering must not be allowed to continue until tomorrow if it can be helped today.” This guy, with his rigid legalism, doesn’t get that.

Perhaps, though, it is less about rigidity to the commandment and more about a misunderstanding of it; after all, Jesus uses the commandment itself to argue against the leader and his response to the woman’s healing. Sabbath, is about much more than a 24 hour period of forced rest, it is a mindset and way of being. Sabbath is connected to creation and our finding contentment in God alone, just as we did in the beginning. It cannot be forced from the outside-in, but rather must come from the inside-out. Sabbath starts in our hearts and minds and spirits. We cannot rest on the outside from our labors if we are unable to rest internally from the myriad of trials and temptations that plague us. In a world that is constantly trying to control us from the outside-in through the pursuit of power, prestige, and possessions, developing Sabbath from the inside-out is an act of resistance.

Perhaps most importantly, Sabbath is intricately linked with the Jubilee, an expected celebration, according to Leviticus, chapter 25, during which time all debts are forgiven, all prisoners released, all lands returned to their original owners, and all people head back to the wilderness, which is where they met God in the first place. It’s a sort of hard reset button on society, one that keeps God at the center. The Jubilee occurs on the 50th year, following seven sets of Sabbatical years. (Every 7th year, in which all slaves were released from their bondage was a Sabbatical year.) In other words, Sabbath is deliverance.

The horn and broken chains representing the Jubilee (image courtesy of www.chabad.org).

This, I suspect, is what lies at the heart of Jesus healing the woman, rather than a statement condemning the legalistic view of the synagogue leader. The woman’s illness had resulted in the loss of social relationships and standing within the community. She’d been made unclean, forced to endure exclusion and loneliness. She is need of deliverance. Jesus’ words to her – “You are set free!” - not only bring physical healing but they also reinstate her to legitimate membership within her community. That sounds like behavior much more fitting of the Sabbath than simply watering one’s ox. 

This encounter between Jesus and the unnamed bent-over woman is all about deliverance and breaking the yoke. Her critics tell her it isn’t an illness from which she suffers, no, it’s possession by an evil spirit from Satan. This is the yoke placed on her by the community. Jesus removes this yoke, empowering her to stand and give glory to God. It is as if her eyes are finally open, like Dorothy seeing in technicolor for the first time in The Wizard of Oz, or Neo waking up in the real world in The Matrix. 

Dorothy goes from black and white to technicolor in The Wizard of Oz.

Think of the yokes that are habitually placed on us by a consumer-driven society designed to keep feeding us with bread and entertaining us with the circus, all the while our own freedoms are gradually pulled out from under us without ever knowing. Folks with eyes to see cry for freedom from such yokes, but the powers-that-be tell us now isn’t a good time, come back tomorrow. The lesson of this Gospel is not a condemnation of the commandment or “rule” to follow Sabbath, it is a condemnation of those who forget what it really means. Because if Sabbath, as a mindset and lifestyle, were actually incorporated into our lives, then every person would have their yokes thrown off and would know real freedom and delight in the Lord, to paraphrase Isaiah (chapter 58), who warned those returning from exile and captivity to not be as their oppressors had been, but to honor the true meaning of Sabbath and not to trample on it.

We dare not trample on such good news, though contemporary society has tried – just look at how they turned a Sabbatical from one year’s time to a matter of weeks! If sin is addiction, as one theologian put it, then ours is the addiction to a culture that tries to keep folks in line by distracting them with this or that product or gimmick, so that the real evil – the real Satan that binds us – can continue to thrive. But blessed assurance, Jesus is ours, and he will be there, if we hear him calling like the woman did, to set us free from that which binds us. In his book Sabbath as Resistance, the late, great Walter Brueggeman says “Sabbath is not simply a pause. It is an occasion for reimagining all social life away from coercion and competition to compassionate solidarity. Such solidarity is imaginable and capable of performance only when the drivenness of acquisition is broken. Sabbath is not simply the pause that refreshes. It is the pause that transforms. It is an invitation to receptivity, and acknowledgement that what is needed is given and need not be seized.”

This is grace, which, like Sabbath, is freely given by God. A gift that finds its truest meaning when we give it away to one who is suffering. It’s hard to say if the Jubilee, that year when debts were forgiven, land returned, and prisoners freed, ever actually happened in the context of history. But that was God’s dream. That’s shalom…salaam…peace. And whether it’s actually happened or not doesn’t really matter; we still strive to achieve that dream in both prayer and action. Isaiah calls us to be repairers of the breach – a slogan borrowed by the Poor People’s Campaign. Jesus calls us to proclaim by our words and actions that the Kingdom has come near, that Sabbath is not just a day to be observed, but a life to be lived. And if we could live that life, brothers and sisters, justice would roll down like waters, mercy would be freely given, and all would walk humbly with our God. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an expectation.

Faith, Faith, Faith

'The word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision, "Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great." But Abram said, "O Lord GOD, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?" And Abram said, "You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir." But the word of the LORD came to him, "This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir." He brought him outside and said, "Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be." And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness.'

--Genesis 15: 1-6

'Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

'By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. By faith he received power of procreation, even though he was too old-- and Sarah herself was barren-- because he considered him faithful who had promised. Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, "as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore."'

--Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-13

'Jesus said to his disciples, "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

"Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves.

"But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."'

--Luke 12: 32-40

A great sage of 1990s once sang about the theme that runs through all of our Scriptures today:  “Before the river becomes an ocean, before you throw my heart back on the floor, oh oh baby I reconsider my foolish notion, well I need someone to hold me but I’ll wait for something more, cause I gotta have faith, oh I gotta have faith.”  God rest your soul, George Michael! 

Voice of an angel!

Ya gotta have faith.  We throw that sentiment around a lot, don’t we?  Ya gotta have faith that this will be the year our team finally wins—story of my life as a Cleveland sports fan.  In George Michael’s case, he’s gotta have faith that he’ll find that partner who won’t break his heart. It’s not just something that we preach on Sunday mornings.  Faith is an underlying theme of so many aspects of our day-to-day lives, and we are often told, in one way or another, that if the thing doesn’t work out, then we just didn’t have enough faith.  Is that, though, what biblical faith is?

Immediately our attention gets grabbed by the first sentence in the 11th chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  That’s one of those sentences of Scripture that’s so popular that we see it on bracelets and bumper stickers; even Episcopalians can usually quote it.  But what’s really going on with this statement? The Greek word is pistis, which is used 4,102 times in the Bible . It means “a firm persuasion”, which is based not on sight or knowledge but on trust. And it goes both ways; it is inextricably tied to the notion of covenant, of relationship. God has pistis in Abram – the exalted ancestor – which is why God makes him Abraham – the ancestor of a multitude – showing that being “faithful” is about making and maintaining a commitment to an other, rather than being assured that God – or whoever we’ve made a covenant with – will give us something; after all, even though God’s promise to Abram is ultimately fulfilled, Abram himself doesn’t get to see it.

Mosaic of Abram (Abraham) gazing at the stars.

As for that definition of faith, our translation muddies the water a little. The word that gets translated as “assurance” –“faith is the assurance of things hoped for”--is hupostasis, which is better translated as “reality” because it doesn’t have anything to do with personal belief.  Also, the word translated as “conviction” –“the conviction of things not seen”—is elenchos, which again is not about personal conviction but is better translated as “proof.”  We could, then, read this definition as: "Faith is the reality of things hoped for, the proof of things not seen."  When we think of faith in this manner it becomes less about a personal assurance and conviction and more about the ever-truthful realization of the forward movement of God.  

Even that word, “faith”’ has been hijacked and used in nefarious ways. Consider this: what is the first thing that pops in your head when you hear the term “faith-based?” I suspect, based on some of your faces, that it isn’t the story of Abram from Genesis or the definition given by Hebrews 11. There are “faith-based” movie production companies – even a streaming service called Pureflix, I swear I did not make that up – and their products are quite bad. There is the Ark Encounter in Kentucky that says it offers a “faith-based” approach to science and thus shows dinosaurs and humans living together, and some parents and even public officials have pushed for actual school curricula that follows similar “faith-based” models that ignore real science. And, of course, during the COVID-19 pandemic, a great many folks proclaimed “faith over fear,” arguing that their decision to not be vaccinated was “faith-based.” How ironic, given that for many of us the decision to be vaccinated was, precisely, inspired by our faith, our commitment to and trust in our neighbors to care for one another. A great many of my friends and family ask if I have kept up with the HBO series The Righteous Gemstones, a kind of satire on the “faith-based” entertainment industry of megachurches and celebrity pastors, and while I love me some Danny McBride and John Goodman, I can’t watch it when our culture continues to portray “people of faith,” as little more than self-serving content creators and self-absorbed consumers. What has modernity done to faith? Where is the faith expressed by God to Abram, or written by the author of Hebrews? Where’s the faith of Jesus?

Promo image for season 2 of The Righteous Gemstones

I believe that the faith of Jesus is what stands between us and this neverending stream of false prophecies and heretical behavior that claims again and again to be “faith based.” Jesus makes clear in this teaching from Luke’s Gospel that faith in our God – the God of Abram whom Jesus called Abba – is not found by acquiring anything – be they power, prestige, or possessions - , but rather by surrendering everything. The entirety of God’s realm – a state of being that Jesus called the Kingdom of Heaven – is ours if we are willing to give away our stuff and everything else that we fear to lose. Fear attaches to whatever we cannot release, becoming a ruinous mold in the dark isolation of our grasping and clutching for control. The capitalist, consumer-driven culture of ours says that we can have control over our lives, that everyone can be a Caesar, if we accumulate riches or rely on this new device we’ve marketed as something that will do the hard work for us. Fear infiltrates our life, alters our breathing and shows up masked as various anxieties and the overwhelming need to fix things. By surrendering that need and the things that give us that false sense of control, we make room for Jesus to shine a healing light upon our minds and hearts to clear the mold of fear away; what’s he’s commending in our Gospel this morning is faith – even if pistis is not used -  the kind, that has its assurance in a future that is secured not by human wants and desires, but by the One who’s got the whole world in those mighty hands.

What can this kind of faith really do for us? It liberates us from our need for control, which itself is rooted in our fear of loss, the ultimate loss being death itself. But by living expectantly, unencumbered by the temptation for control, life becomes lighter, the burdens less self-inflicted. We find ourselves working with Jesus to create structures where all embrace his model of self-emptying love, even to those who trouble us; so much so that a thief coming in the middle of the night will not be able to alarm us. “Welcome!” we can say to the thief. “I’ve got plenty of stuff to offer you. I’m not afraid. Sit down at my table. Enjoy the feast!” Because, as one person in our bible study said this week, “God should be our only attachment!”

There is one great example of this kind of faith in fairly recent memory.  During the Apartheid days of South Africa, when the government tried shutting out any vocal opposition, Archbishop Desmond Tutu held a church service where armed police entered his cathedral in Cape Town in a move of intimidation while Tutu was preaching.  At one point he finally addressed the police directly and said:  “You are very powerful, but you are not gods. So, since you’ve already lost, I invite you to come and join us!”  With that, the congregation broke out into singing and dancing.  No one knew then that Apartheid would eventually be defeated, but Tutu’s faith was in something bigger, in the Kingdom of Heaven and the ultimate victory of God. When we place our faith in that Kingdom, in that victory, we will want for nothing, we will fear nothing, and we will do far greater things than we could ask or imagine.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu

This is what I believe it means to live lives of faith, lives that are oriented toward something so much bigger than ourselves; our desires, as well as our fears. From Abram the exalted ancestor and Jesus the Christ, to Desmond the bishop and you, may we be faithful, as God has been and continues to be faithful to us. And know that there’s an angel out there somewhere, singing for you and encouraging you along……

Ya gotta have it!

Persistent, Pestering Prayer

'The LORD said to Abraham, "How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me; and if not, I will know."

So the men turned from there, and went toward Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the LORD. Then Abraham came near and said, "Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it? Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?" And the LORD said, "If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake." Abraham answered, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?" And he said, "I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there." Again he spoke to him, "Suppose forty are found there." He answered, "For the sake of forty I will not do it." Then he said, "Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak. Suppose thirty are found there." He answered, "I will not do it, if I find thirty there." He said, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord. Suppose twenty are found there." He answered, "For the sake of twenty I will not destroy it." Then he said, "Oh do not let the Lord be angry if I speak just once more. Suppose ten are found there." He answered, "For the sake of ten I will not destroy it."'

--Genesis 18: 20-32

'Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say:

Father, hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come.

Give us each day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins,

for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.

And do not bring us to the time of trial."

And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, `Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, `Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.

"So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"'

--Luke 11: 1-13

What is the first prayer that you ever learned? I remember mine, which hung on the wall of my bedroom from the time of my birth until I left for seminary. “Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake; I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.” My mother and my dog prayed that little prayer with me every night, it seemed, for the first 10 years or so of my life. How sound the theology was never entered my mind, it just made me feel a closeness to God. It gave me words to say at a time when I scarcely had any of my own.

My first prayer.

As I got older my father introduced me to another form of prayer: Compline, which he had first learned in camp settings in the 1970s. He and I would pray that Office, which is on page 127 of our Prayer Book, during my tween and teenage years, until it got so deep in my bones that I had it memorized. In both of those cases, prayer was intentional, it was repetitive to the point of becoming firmly a part of my being, and, perhaps most importantly, it was modeled for me by the people who loved me. 

Humans are memetic, like all of God’s creatures, we learn by observing and mimicking others, particularly our elders. If we want to learn a principle for just about anything, it helps to look for someone who lives it. Why should prayer be any different? When one of the disciples asks Jesus to pray, it is most likely because that person has noticed Jesus spending time alone, praying.  While familiar with John the Baptist’s teaching about prayer – which, according to some scholars, Jesus knew well, because he may have been a disciple of John himself – this disciple of Jesus has not been able to make a beginning, to start praying on their own. They still stand in that dark and silent space of wanting to pray but being unable to do so, that wide gap between desiring and doing.

How relieved that disciple must have been – and perhaps how relieved we are – to hear Jesus say confidently, as though everyone within earshot will understand, “Here’s how you do it!” The outline he gives is simple: ask for God’s way of doing things to become our way; ask for everyone’s daily needs to be met; ask to be forgiven and to forgive others; and then ask for the strength to resist any of the temptations that tug us away from all of this. And to get us in a right mindset, Jesus has us not address God as some kind of “divine you up there,” far away and unknowable, but to address God as a child addresses a parent. Jesus used “Abba!” which means Father; you may have a different word. Whatever that may be, the rationale is pretty sound, that prayer begins with the hopeful, innocent, curious heart of a child reaching out to a loving parent. 

This so-called Lord’s Prayer, which appears here and in the Gospel of Matthew as part of the Sermon on the Mount, gives us not just a handy dandy prayer to go to when all others escape us, but it also provides the model for every prayer that we make. It’s relational – addressing God in a direct and familial manner – it asks only for what is needed right now, nothing more, and it is rooted in God’s goodness and mercy. What it is not is a cosmic vending machine, whereby Jesus shows us the right combination of words to get the thing from God. Nor is it a magic potion – a dab of this and a pinch of that – which, when done in a precise manner, will accomplish exactly what we want or need. This prayer calls all who pray it away from individualistic notions of God’s provision and places us right in the midst of God’s self-giving love. This prayer, all prayer, Jesus shows us, is relationship. It’s also persistent. 

Look at Abraham, who has a very persistent relationship with God. Due to their egregious sins – those being the lack of hospitality and the neglect of the poor, the widows, and the resident aliens in their land – the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are being marked for destruction. Abraham, though, knowing that God would never smite an entire people if there were any righteous and good-hearted folks in their midst, pleads on their behalf, pestering God. “What if there are 50 good people? Will you spare everyone?” God says yes. What about 40? 30? 20? 10? Yes, yes, yes, and yes, God will spare them. Abraham is persistent in his prayer for God’s mercy. The negotiating ends there, but we can infer that it went all the way down to Abraham making his plea for God to spare both cities, even if there was but one single good person there. 

Abraham pleads for Sodom and Gomorrah

This gets paired with Jesus using two parables to illustrate the nature of prayer to his disciples: prayer is like a man who keeps knocking on the door of his friend’s house at midnight with a great need; he keeps knocking and knocking until finally the friend gets up to help. Furthermore, prayer for adults is no different than a child who asks for a fish or an egg from their parent. No one would willingly give their child a snake or a scorpion instead, so it is with God, who hears us and does not give us anything that is harmful. Prayer, as embodied by Abraham and illustrated by Jesus, is persistence, it’s pestering God at midnight; pestering God to forgive us, to provide for us, not necessarily what we want, but what we need. It makes me think of a scene from the movie the Apostle, in which Robert Duvall plays a disgraced preacher, who at one point in the middle of the night gets up and shouts so loud and persistently at God that it wakes the neighbors. We can, and even should, nag God to show up in our lives in ways that help us to show up too. We don’t have to stand at the brink of prayer and never make a beginning. We look to the source. To the very prayer Jesus taught us. What is the Lord’s Prayer if not a persistent plea that we make at every single liturgy? Maybe for some us, every single day?

I saw a church sign many years ago that said, “Prayer changes things.” I struggle with that concept because, surely, if prayer worked that way, Gaza would not be in rubble and children in Africa would not have had aid cut off from them by our government. Prayer alone, left there by itself, I’m not certain, changes things, but I do know that prayer changes people, and people – with God’s help – change things. That’s why I’m always quick to remind y’all to never underestimate how important prayer is, because it’s not just words we recite, it’s choices we make, grace we show, forgiveness we give, and bread we share. That’s how the kingdom comes!

It's those persistent prayers that we say again and again and again, which work their way through us like medicine that we didn’t even know we needed, getting into our bodies as well as our souls. Whether its’s Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, the Lord’s Prayer, the Jesus Prayer, the Magnificat, or the entire Office of Compline, those often repeated, persistent prayers change us. What, I wonder, are such prayers for you? Which ones are you modeling and passing on to others, especially our children? What ways are your prayers persistent? What do you learn about yourself, about God, and about that relationship when you pray? What are the needs for which you are willing to keep pestering God? After all, God is persistent and never stops pestering us.  For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds. 

The Work of an Evangelist

'The Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, `Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, `The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, `Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.'

"Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me."

The seventy returned with joy, saying, "Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!" He said to them, "I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven."'

--Luke 10: 1-11, 16-20

There is a word which Episcopalians dare not utter. It lingers out there, tempting us, but we are terrified to say it. The “e-word” Evangelism. I got a shudder just from silently reading it! Why is it that so many of us are afraid of that word? Maybe because it’s been co-opted by fundamentalists and the so-called ‘religious right,’ and conjures up images of a certain kind of Christian imposing their views on others? There’s a reason the term ex-vangelical is a thing these days, with more and more folks leaving communities that describe themselves as evangelical. But I wonder if it’s high time we took that word back – much like our Lutheran friends did in 1988 – and reclaim what it means to be an evangelical people, patterning our lives on the very instructions that Jesus gives today, and in doing so, taking back the power from the folks who have distorted that word and weaponized it, often for political purposes.

The word ‘evangelical' comes from the Greek word evangelion, meaning ‘good news’ or ‘Gospel.’ This is why Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are often called the Four Evangelists, the four bringers of the good news. Our baptismal covenant even includes the promise that we will “proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ,” which sounds a lot like the work of an evangelist, doesn’t it? Contrary to what we have been shown or taught, being evangelical isn’t about guitars and screens in church, conversion experiences, or standing on a street corner with a sign that warns folks to repent. Being evangelical is being about the Gospel, about the good news, which Jesus summed up back in chapter 4 of Luke as the essential message for the poor, to “proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” So if we’ve been called to be evangelists, how do we do that?

After naming twelve individuals as apostles – as ones who are sent – Jesus appoints 70 others who are to go out ahead of him to places he himself will go. They will test the waters, see where the welcome waits and where it does not. Most importantly, they will leave their sense of security behind and go out, not alone, but in twos, in order to support one another as they meet God’s blessed and bewildered people. 

The 70.

To prepare for such a journey, Jesus tells them not to save up, but rather strip down. Take no money, food, or extra shoes. Ask for nothing special; after all, they’ll find what they need. Receive what is given, release whatever is withheld. Pass the peace, and whether welcomed or not, announce that God’s reign is near.

Do you want to know what I think this sounds like? It sounds a lot, to me, like the No Kings rallies held across the country a few weeks ago. My wife and I attended the one in Durham, and I saw hundreds, if not thousands, of evangelists, people who were there to proclaim the very good news that Jesus charged the 70 with proclaiming. Maybe they weren’t wearing crosses or collars – though I did get a thumbs up for wearing mine from a group of Chapel Hill Jews who very much knew about the Advocate, and someone else who promised to visit when she learned that, thankfully, that we were still in operation – and maybe a good many of them would not willingly say their actions were evangelical, but anything that is about good news to the poor, anything that is an action rooted in faith, in justice, in compassion, and in transformation, is itself evangelical. With the recent passage of an glutenous, cruel bill this past week, which will rob millions of poor folks of medical and food assistance, shutting down hospitals in rural areas and stuffing the pockets of billionaires, you can bet that the days are coming when more evangelical actions such as this will be needed, where folks will be stirred to leave their sense of security behind for the sake of the gospel, the good news, the evangelion that proclaims God’s kingdom has come – in our hearts and our minds – and soon and very soon, will come in its full glory. Until then, we’ll go where Jesus sends us, even if it means going like sheep into the midst of wolves, we’ll shake off the dust from our feet as a protest to those who do would deny good news to the poor, and we’ll do so knowing that Jesus has our back because, as with the 70, there is no place to which we go that Jesus won’t be coming in afterwards. 

With my wife Kristen and parishioner Emily at the No Kings Rally in Durham on June 21.

The work of the 70, the evangelism they are called to proclaim, is transformative, not just for those who received it, but for the 70 themselves. They return from their journey, practically giddy with excitement for what they have done and seen. I wonder if they had stories on the road of the ways they supported each other – God help the one that got paired with Judas, though. They are ready, willing, and more than able to get down to some holy business. Then Jesus tempers their excitement somewhat by telling them that he saw Satan fall from heaven like lighting. This isn’t a description of the past or a prediction of the future, mind you, it’s a present reality. Satan – the adversary, the forces of wickedness that rebel against God and corrupt and destroy the creatures of God, to borrow, again, from our baptismal covenant – is defeated because the Kingdom is at hand and it is proclaimed by the mouths, the hands, and the feet of the people of God, the people preaching with their very lives the good news to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. As John Wesley, a damn fine Anglican, once put it, “When the 70 went forth, the kingdom of Satan, which was highly exalted, was swiftly and suddenly cast down.”  

Wherever you go, and however you bring good news to the poor, Satan is once again cast down. At times, it can feel like we’re all just lambs in the midst of wolves, and the truth is that not everyone can do everything. That’s why he sent them in twos, so that when one stumbled, the other could be there to pick them up. So it was for the 70, so it is for us. Maybe yours is a more active role, or perhaps it is simply too great a risk to the health of you or your family. Fear not, because whether you are marching in the light of God or speaking truth to power through a phone call at home, yours is the work of an evangelist, which is anything but solitary. And never, ever underestimate the most important tool at an evangelist’s disposal: prayer. That is something that every single one of us can do, without ceasing, in word or action. Because prayer grounds us, it de-centers the pain and fear that can often take hold of us, and centers Jesus, who is the one who calls us, in love, like the 70. Not one of them was too small or insignificant to do their holy work. The same is true for us. We all have a role to play. 

All this has happened before, so says Battlestar Galactica, and all this will happen again. The 70 were sent into a broken system, to a people who were hurting. They were sent in pairs, to remember that one does not undertake such efforts alone. We have all, likewise, been called and are sent into a broken system, where people are hurting. Sent like lambs into the midst of wolves at times, but always sent together, because the work of bringing and being good news to the poor is never done alone. There is no pre-determined quotas to fill, no salvation tallies, or charts of blessings to calculate. No blame or shame to be hurled as insults. Just the work of an evangelist: be who God made you to be. Give what God has already given you. Receive from others, as though you are receiving the very Sacrament in your hand. Whether accepted or rejected, center Jesus and his good news, and know, to your very core, that wherever you are sent, God’s reign is near. 

Confronting Legion

'Jesus and his disciples arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me" -- for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) Jesus then asked him, "What is your name?" He said, "Legion"; for many demons had entered him. They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.

Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, "Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you." So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.'

--Luke 8: 26-39

Years ago I was having lunch on a Sunday. I was in my collar, and after I placed my order, the young waiter said to me, “There’s something I always wanted to ask a priest!” Here it comes. “Do you, like, watch exorcism movies?” Oh yeah, all the time! No, actually, I said, I’ve only seen a few – I don’t do horror – but one that I had recently seen that I enjoyed was The Rite. I liked that one, I told him. One of the things I appreciate about that movie is that he makes a big deal of showing that the first action taken by the priest in an exorcism is to get the demon to say its name.

Why is this important? Because naming something gives one a sense of ownership or control over it. You can call it out. Think about when you get a dog and how important it is to name it, in order to get it to listen and obey. Getting the demon to say its name is really difficult, as any good exorcism movie will show you, but once that happens, then healing can begin.

The exorcism of the Gerasene "demoniac."

When Jesus confronts a Gerasene man who has been possessed by a demon, the first thing he does is ask for its name. “Legion,” it replies, “for we are many.” Once the name is spoken, then Jesus can do his work; he cures the man, sending the demons into a herd of pigs, and leaving the man “in his right mind”, as the text says.

But what exactly was this legion? Biblical scholars say the name is a reference to the Roman legions that tormented and tortured Jesus’ people, and all others whom they conquered.. More modern readers of this text have speculated that the Gerasene man may have been bipolar or suffering from what we might today call paranoid schizophrenia or dissociative personality disorder. Regrettably, the Church for centuries dealt with people suffering from and living with these and other such conditions as if they were, in fact, possessed by demons, curable only through exorcisms in the name of Jesus. And when the exorcisms didn’t fix the problem, society resorted to treatments like shock therapy to control the outbursts, and throwing folks into sanitariums that hid the mentally ill away from the world, the way the Gerasenes hid the so-called “demoniac” in the tombs and shackled him with chains.  The harm inflicted on the mentally ill is a sin from which the Church continues to repent.

Jesus neither condemns this man, nor does he try to control him. He meets him with compassion, not fear or judgment. This man, who has no name, mind you – he has no identity apart from his affliction – is not seen by Jesus as a drain on society or an inconvenience to be hidden away, but as someone who is fighting a great battle within himself. The text even tells us that he was dealing with the legion for a very long time. And after meeting the man where he is, Jesus gets him to name his demon  – in this case, Legion – but he doesn’t treat him harshly. Whereas those around the man had shunned and shamed him, Jesus offers healing and peace of mind, and in a twist, he actually grants the demons’ request by casting Legion into the pigs, rather than into the nothingness of the Abyss. It’s also a beautiful piece of irony that the demon named for the Romans – hated enemies of the Jews – would prefer to inhabit pigs – unclean and vile creatures to Jews – only to run off a cliff and die. Who says the Bible isn’t good literature?

Why show such mercy to this man, rather than condemn him – which is the social norm – or call the demon out violently – like in those exorcism movies? I wonder if, perhaps, Jesus treats him this way because he recognizes the strength within this man to fight and struggle for so long with something inside him that he cannot understand or control. Consider that the moment Jesus steps onto land, the man runs out to meet him, pleading for Jesus not to torment him. This is his cry for help, his rock-bottom, if you will, and like most of our own cries for help it’s not as simple as, “I’m having a problem, please help me,” but instead it’s an agonizing plea coming from a place of pain and fear, which no one but Jesus understands. In the example of this man, we are reminded that there is no weakness, no shame, in seeking someone out for help. And our prayer today is that we may meet a suffering brother or sister in the same manner as Jesus, without judgment or shame, and with compassion and mercy.

So many of us have had, or may still have, such struggles. We might even use the word “demons” to describe them: “I’m battling my demons,” we may say, of mental illness, addiction, PTSD, the list goes on, though it should be reiterated that such conditions are not, I repeat, not demonic. Still, the first step for any of us in facing our personal struggles and healing from them is to name them. I have had my own battles with PTSD, especially over the last four years or so, and my body very much has kept the score. It has taken me all that time to name that and get appropriate help from therapists, spiritual directors, and trusted colleagues. There is no shame in what has happened to me, or to any of you, and there is no shame in asking for help, though sometimes, like the Gerasene man, we may not know how.

After receiving his healing, the man sits at Jesus’ feet, clearly a new person, with a new outlook on life. He wants to go with Jesus, but he refuses, telling the man to stay where he is. Remember that the Gerasenes were not exactly pleased about this man’s healing. A whole herd of pigs was lost because of it – that’s an economic repercussion right there – and their response toward Jesus was to run him out of town, since the Gerasenes weren’t Jews and didn’t appreciate an outsider coming in and upsetting things. Sometimes our journey toward healing and wholeness takes us places that others don’t like very much. Loved ones may respond dejectedly when we come out of our healing process and emerge a new person – perhaps with a new name, an entirely new outlook on life. There is something holy and sacred in the call of this new person to remain with his people, to educate them, to love them, to help others heal the same way Jesus healed him.

In this particularly volatile and fearful time, there are voices trying to possess and discourage us so numerous that we might call them Legion. We may, at times, feel so stuck that we prefer the struggle to the gains, the demon we know to the freedom we do not. Whether true for individuals or systems – especially churches – we learn to cope with dysfunction, leading to a fear of change, of being exorcised of the kinds of forces that hold us back from being our truest selves. Yet against them all speaks the still, small, yet mighty voice of Jesus, who still reminds us of our belovedness, meets us where we are, and helps us stay rooted in the calling that is set before us.. It begins with naming our struggles and accepting Jesus’ invitation to a journey of transformation and healing, towards resurrection and newness of life. For all of us, whatever struggles we are facing, that is good news. 

To Know the Unknowable: On the Trinity, Punching Heretics, and Robot Lions

'Jesus said to the disciples, "I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, she will guide you into all the truth; for she will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever she hears, and she will declare to you the things that are to come. She will glorify me, because she will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that she will take what is mine and declare it to you."'

--John 16: 12-15

How do you explain the inexplicable, or comprehend the incomprehensible? Writer Karen Armstrong, in her seminal work A History of God, points out that we use allegory, metaphor, story, and anthropomorphism – that’s granting human qualities to that which is not human – in an attempt to do just that. This is what we have always done with the Divine, long before the Most Holy and Undivided Trinity became the centerpiece of Christian theology. Stories of ancient gods waring with each other, filled with jealousy, lust, and savagery were attempts to show that the divine beings were, in reality, not that dissimilar from their own creations. In the Hebrew Scriptures we have depictions of God walking in the garden in the evening breeze, coming down to smite the tower of Babel, and even speaking through a donkey. Using human language to describe the Divine is as old as humanity itself.

But the Trinity? That feels….different, somehow. The Trinity is to some the lynchpin of all Christian thought, yet to others it is the great, inexplicable thorn in the side of our theology. Maybe you fall into one of these categories; still, to all, it seems, the Trinity is, if nothing else, a mystery, and our modern, western way of thinking and being has simply forgotten how to dwell in the realm of mystery.  If something cannot be proven, then it cannot possibly be “real.” For some, this is enough to say the Trinity is downright gobbledygook.. But we mustn’t throw out the baby Jesus with the holy water. What if I told you that the Trinity actually does make sense? That it is the foundation of…everything?  

Some will be quick to point out that the word ‘Trinity’ is nowhere in the Bible. The only reference we even get to ‘Father, Son, and Holy Spirit’  -  in that order - shows up at the very end of the Gospel of Matthew; you’d think our lectionary would use that Gospel every Trinity Sunday, but it only shows up in Year A when we read Matthew, so you’ll see it next year. 

Notice that I didn’t say that the Trinity isn’t in the Bible, because it is. God as Father – or Mother, or Creator – is all over the Bible. God creates the world ex nihilo, from nothing, and creates it out of love, a stark contrast to other creation stories of the ancient world that were rooted in violence. This is the God that Jesus of Nazareth calls Father, or Abba in Aramaic. Jesus is described as the Son of God, making him equal to God in stature, and in the prologue to the Gospel of John he is the Word, the logos in Greek, that existed from before time itself, in the beginning with God. This logos, this Word, this Jesus, is not just the carpenter turned rabbi from Nazareth but is also God made flesh, and in his last lesson to his followers, he promised to send them a Paraclete, an Advocate, also known as Holy Spirit, who, as we know from last week, was God’s creative force in the very beginning, spoke through the prophets, and lit the apostles hearts and heads on fire on the Day of Pentecost, giving birth to this movement that bears the name of Jesus. It’s not hard to find references to the Trinity in Scripture, to God’s threefold action in the world, but why is it so central to our faith?

“Who is Jesus?” That was the question on most people’s minds for the better part of four centuries. In the year 325, Emperor Constantine, who had declared Christianity a legally recognized religion in the Roman Empire 12 years earlier, called together bishops from the Latin west and Greek east to his palace at Nicea. That question – “Who is Jesus?” – was what they were there to answer. Constantine thought it would be quit and painless, he needed this thing shored up in order to prevent actual violence being done in the name of particular points of view. It wasn’t quick, the bishops refused to let the emperor push his own ideas through at his own pace. And it wasn’t painless, just ask Arius, who got punched in the face by St. Nicholas. Santa Claus had a mean right hook.

St. Nicholas attacks Arius at the Council of Nicea 

The consensus at Nicea was that Jesus was made of the same substance, the same ousia, as God. To understand this, one needs to understand how Aristotle thought of all created matter, that there are accidents, which are outward, physical traits that make a person who they are; and also substance, which is that unseeable thing that makes every person uniquely themselves – we might also call that a soul. Jesus and God shared the same substance. Like many legislative decisions, however, Nicea’s rulings didn’t exactly take everywhere, so another council was called in 381 at Constantinople – not Istanbul – for the whole thing to get sorted out. Nicea had only briefly mentioned Holy Spirit, so the work of unpacking that question – “Who is Holy Spirit’s relationship to God and Jesus?” – was taken up by three bishops collectively called the Cappadocian Fathers: Gregory of Nyssa, Basil the Great, and Gregory of Nazianzus. It was the latter Gregory who said that the movement between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit was perichoretic, a kind of free-flowing, mutual indwelling, in which each person is fully present as individuals while also being inseparable in their being. The Cappadocian Fathers were building off ideas that Athanasius had proposed back at Nicea, and later a Creed would be written with his name attached – which is in our Book of Common Prayer on page 864. Three hypostases – persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – in one ousia – the substance of the Godhead. This statement of faith, begun at Nicea and codified at Constantinople, became known as the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed – or, simply, the Nicene Creed – which, of course, we affirm, in one way or another, every single week. 

But isn’t history simply written by the victors? The Trinitarian doctrine was one of many, many theories proposed at those two councils, after all. It only became the teaching of the Church because it was the most popular. Nowadays, that very word – doctrine – feels icky, too authoritative, too top-down. It doesn’t seem to leave room for other ideas. The reality, however, is that those other voices at Nicea and Constantinople, those that were deemed as heresies, beliefs and opinions contrary to doctrinal statements, were the ones that left little wiggle room. It was the heresies that tried to put God in a box, tried to come up with statements of faith that were clear, concise, and definitive. These statements made a lot more logical sense than what would become the catholic, or universal, faith, but mystery was not a part of them. Some examples of these included: Arianism said that Jesus and the Spirit weren’t divine, they were just creations of the Father: like the sun – you have the star, heat, and light, but the heat and light aren’t the star, just products of it. Modalism said that each Person of the Trinity had a specific job or mode, which didn’t intersect with each other: like water that exists as liquid, ice, and vapor, all separate modes. And then there’s Partialism, that stated the three Persons composed 1/3rd of God individually, which is, of course, like Voltron, the Defender of the Universe, who is composed of five robotic lions that merge into a giant robot samurai that fights evil alien monsters. Maybe you can guess which of those heresies is my favorite.

Voltron: Defender of the Universe and perfect example of Partialism.

These may have made – and still make – logical sense, but they don’t leave a lot of room for mystery, do they? That’s the irony of the Trinity. The doctrine itself is intentionally mysterious; even Gregory of Nazianzus, who described the Trinity as perichoretic, free-flowing, argued in the 4th century what Karen Armstrong would argue in the 21st century, that we were always going to fall short of fully capturing the essence of God because human language is limited, and human minds cannot fully grasp the magnitude and mystery of God, and that’s a good thing. It keeps us humble, helps us remember we aren’t in control and that we don’t have to have everything figured it. It helps us rest in mystery. 

But there is something about the Trinity that is knowable, and that is the fact that it is relational.  The Most Rev. Peter Carnley, who was Archbishop of Perth and my seminary ethics professor, once said that every single conversation about God begins with the Trinity because every conversation about God begins with relationship. God models relationship for us, whom God created to be in relationship with one another. The Trinity is not hierarchical. There is no power-over in it, simply co-existence. It is…the flow.  Anyone who has ever seen a preacher just let loose and be led by the Spirit, anyone who has ever done any kind of theatre improv, those who understand the music of jazz or hip hop, know what “the flow” is all about. Flow is creativity, play, and life. It involves both letting go and being fully present to the movement of what is happening. The flow state is a divine state. The flow is the Trinity. The Trinity is the flow. 

So, you see, the Trinity makes all the sense in the world. The perichoretic, free-flowing nature of the Persons within the Godhead is precisely the model for our own relationships. And the fact that the doctrine itself is confusing gives us permission to rest in the mystery of God because the quest to define God leads us to do everything from create God in our own image to claim the kind of control over our lives that belongs only to God. So let go, brothers and sisters. Let go of the need to understand, to control, and let the flow of the Trinity take you away. We bind unto ourselves this day, and every day, the strong Name of the Trinity, by invocation of the same, the Three-in One, and One-in-Three.

Wind and Flame

"Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, "Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly." And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth." The LORD came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the LORD said, "Look, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech." So the LORD scattered them abroad from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth; and from there the LORD scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth."

--Genesis 11: 1-9

"If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you."

"I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid."

--John 14: 15-17, 25-27

'When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples 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."'"

--Acts 2: 1-21

She’s here. At long last. The very Spirit of God that moved over the waters of creation, spoke through the prophets, and partnered with Mother Mary to conceive the Lord Jesus, has finally shown up. Not that she wasn’t in the world already, but now her presence cannot be denied. Landing as a tongue of fire above the heads of the apostles, much like how she landed as a dove above Jesus’ own head, Holy Spirit is here, y’all, and nothing will ever be the same again.

Yeah, that’s right, I said Holy Spirit, no ‘the.’ Because Holy Spirit, or Paraclete to use Jesus’ word from the Gospel of John, isn’t a what but a who. Holy Spirit is the Third Person of the Trinity, the giver of life, the very part of God that births…well…everything. And yes, I call Holy Spirit ‘she’ because in Hebrew – the language Jesus’ read – and Aramaic – the language that he spoke – the words for spirit – ruach and ruah, respectively – are feminine. The Eastern world has always understood the Spirit to be God’s lifegiving, and therefore feminine, quality. The sticky wicket comes when we consider the Greek word – pneuma – which has no gender, and the Latin word spiritus, which is masculine; and thus, any Bible translating off of Latin ends up using the masculine pronoun. Be that as it may, Jesus would’ve most likely used ‘she’ for Holy Spirit (if he used a pronoun at all!), and if it’s good enough for the Lord, it’s good enough for him! 

Holy Spirit makes her presence felt with the rush of a violent wind, just like in the story of Creation, and a stirring in the hearts, minds, and spirits of a small group of poor, wayfaring strangers, huddled together, perhaps in a fashion like we are today, in an apartment in Jerusalem, terrified to step outside their doors. The more things change, the more they stay the same, am I right? People are still terrified to go outside the doors in Jeruslam. The world out there wants to silence them at best, and kill them at worst. To most they are equivalent to the town drunks – the Otis Campbells of Galilee, for you Andy Griffith fans out there. The last 10 days have been hard, waiting for something, anything to happen. He did say something would happen, didn’t he? 

An image of Otis Campbell from The Andy Griffith Show for no reason whatsoever.

Something happens, alright. Maybe there wasn’t cake, but there sure was a party. Bursting out with a kind of courage that they had never felt before, they leave the safety of their apartment and go into the streets, meeting other strangers who were in town for the Festival of Weeks, the Jewish high holy day that takes place eight weeks after Passover. And the party that ensues is nothing less than a family reunion.

You see, the Book of Genesis, in an attempt to explain why different people spoke different languages, told the tale of a great city called Babel, which humanity had built with its ingenuity in the days of King Nimrod, roughly 2,200 years before the time of Jesus. In order to “make a name for ourselves” the people built this city – not on rock and roll – but on a tower formation, spiraling higher and higher, until it got to very doorstep of God, who wasn’t too pleased that humanity had forgotten their place and had got a little too big for their briches. So God destroyed the tower, confounded the people with different tongues that they couldn’t understand, and scattered the human family.

The Tower City of Babel

But things wouldn’t stay that way. Nope. Holy Spirit had other plans, so when those wayfaring strangers spoke to those pilgrims coming to town from all over for the Festival of Weeks, a miracle occurred. Every person heard the people speaking, not in foreign tongues, but in their own language. The confusion that Babel had caused ceased to be. The family reunion was on!

Y’all know how family reunions work, right? There’s usually one member, a dutiful aunt, who organizes the whole thing, advocates for folks to come together, and usually even prepares the meal. Holy Spirit is that dutiful aunt. That word Paraclete, which Jesus used to describe her, is translated often into Comforter, Helper, and, you guessed it, the Advocate, the same name as the parish where I currently serve. She is the one who makes us one through our confusion, our fears. She is the one that stirs in us to be brave, like that aunt who keeps encouraging us and tells us again and again that we are far more beloved than we could ever imagine. But also like that aunt, she can be pushy – every one of y’all have that family member, and you know who I’m talking about! She might wake you up in the middle of the night, or call you to do a task that you either don’t wanna do or don’t think you’re qualified for. She goes to bat for you, even when you can’t do it yourself. She advocates, she comforts, she helps, and she pushes; and through her, through this Third Person of the Most Holy Trinity, all are one.

In our Tuesday Bible study last week someone mentioned how Holy Spirit can sometimes feel amorphous. It’s easier to think of God the Father or Jesus the Son, but Holy Spirit the Advocate is sometimes just tougher to imagine being out in the world. C.S. Lewis noted this and said he thought there was a reason for it. You are not usually looking at Holy Spirit, Lewis said, because she is acting through you. If you think of God the Father as something “out there” in front of you, and Jesus the Son as the person standing by your side, helping you and asking you to help him, then you have to think of Holy Spirit as the very spirit that is inside you. 

Perhaps that is the great miracle of Pentecost, what makes this family reunion possible; it’s that a small group of frightened, ordinary people, woke up to the Spirit that was inside them the entire time. It began with them, huddled together, praying and breaking bread, just as Jesus told them to do, and when they were ready, the Spirit of truth, of love, of hope, of mercy, of grace, of life itself, burst inside them like a fire erupting. And let me tell you something, brothers and sisters – and that is what you are! – when Holy Spirit ignites inside you, when you find her deep down in there, and you let her out, there is no limit to what is possible. And if everyone did that, well, I guess that would make us all Pentecostals, wouldn’t it? Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing; after all, as The Rev. Dr. William Barber, co-chair of the Poor People’s Campaign, told a bunch of us preachers at the Festival of Homiletics back in 2019, we need another Pentecost. We need folks to be emboldened by Holy Spirit, to let her loose on the world. We need folks to be empowered to speak in tongues, the tongues of heaven, the tongues of justice, of mercy, of love. We need to be rattled by Holy Spirit and driven from the safeties of our upper rooms out into the streets, with the courage of Marsha P. Johnson and the saints of Stonewall! We need a new Pentecost to set this world ablaze with love of Jesus once more.

The Rev. Dr. William Barber (red stole and all).

The Greek scholar Preston Epps wrote that, “God and humanity extend to each other in the cooperative enterprise of humanity becoming as like as possible to the God portrayed in the Gospels.” Holy Spirit makes this enterprise possible. She is the agent who truly makes us one, not through sameness, but through the unstoppable, unshakable, and unending love of God.

So send her on down, Lord! Send Holy Spirit on down into our hearts today and everyday, that we may know her and make her known!  Let her wind be the momentum and her fire the inspiration that lead us into a new Pentecostal movement, a movement born of Spirit, empowered by Jesus, to repair the breaches, to reunite the human family, to seek justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.