Pentecost Sunday, May 19, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Acts 2:1-21
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.’
Like most Americans, I am a mut. I am the product of many people with many stories, coming from many places. And, like many Americans, I am also a religious mut. I was raised in the evangelical world, ordained in the United Methodist Church, and now for many years have served in the United Church of Christ - itself a mut of a denomination bringing all kinds of people together.
Part of my evangelical upbringing that I don’t talk about very much is that for a while, we were Pentecostals. And as a child in a Pentecostal church, I was witness to all sorts of things that some of you might find… strange. During worship services, people sometimes spoke in tongues. Others claimed to have visions. Still others were considered prophets who would warn the people or sometimes predict the future. And many people claimed to have been healed miraculously by the power of prayer. Our Pentecostal church was a place where the Holy Spirit was front and center, active and vibrant and alive.
Well, that was a very long time ago for me. And sometimes I look back on that and wonder what it meant. What was I actually witnessing? Was it the Holy Spirit? Or was it just human emotion? Or was it a combination of the two, or something else entirely?
So, it still perplexes me. But the Holy Spirit has been perplexing the church since the beginning. It’s that part of the Trinity that we just don’t know what to do with. God the Father we sort of understand, although I fear we often think of him as an old man on a throne hurling lightening bolts. God the Son we have a better handle on because Jesus, though divine, was also thoroughly human. But God the Holy Spirit? Just what is it, or she, or he, or they?
But today we have to think about it because it’s Pentecost. We might be wondering: “What does this mean?” And that is an excellent question that people have been asking since that first Pentecost: “What does this mean?”
Jesus had told his disciples to wait in Jerusalem until they had been clothed with something called “power from on high.” So, one hundred and twenty people, including the mother of Jesus, were gathered in an upstairs room. They were there because it was a feast day called Shavuot. This festival had started as a harvest celebration. It had morphed over time into a celebration of the giving of the Law. And now it was about to become take on another identity: Pentecost.
Pentekostos, a Greek word meaning fiftieth was a reference to the passing of fifty days since the Passover. And for these new Christians gathered in an upper room, it was fifty days since the Resurrection. Today is fifty days since Easter.
So, there they were celebrating Shavuot, when suddenly the sound of a mighty, rushing wind filled the house. Then divided tongues of fire, which did not burn but blessed, seemed to hover over their heads. Then, they began to speak in other languages that they had never learned before – telling the glory of God.
And it was loud enough that the people on the streets heard this ruckus. And because Jerusalem was one of the crossroads of the world, it was filled with all kinds of people speaking all kinds of languages. And now they heard the Gospel of Jesus in their own sweet mother tongues, with all the nuances and culture and layered meanings of language. And everyone who experienced this act of the Spirit was amazed and asked: “What does this mean?”
There isn’t enough time to tell you everything that scholars say that this might mean, but here are a few things for us to consider on the precipice of our fourth century of ministry to Cheshire.
First of all, I think it’s fair to say that Pentecost was a thorough repudiation of conformity. Now some people have said that what happened on that day was reversal of the tower of Babel. You might remember that in the book of Genesis there is a tale about how the people of the earth began to erect a great tower in an attempt to reach all the way to the heavens. And God saw this and God said that these humans could do anything they set their minds to – even scale to heaven. And so, God confused their languages so they could no longer communicate. And thus, they abandoned their great building project and dispersed to the far corners of the earth.
But I don’t think that Pentecost was a reversal of Babel. A reversal would have meant that that everyone on the streets that day would have suddenly all been understanding the same language. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the Holy Spirit spoke their languages. And that makes Pentecost a blessing of Babel; celebration of ethnicity and diversity and difference. When the Spirit comes, people don’t have to learn the church’s language. The church has to speak the people’s language.
And to make the point abundantly clear, the writer of the book of Acts slows way down in this breathless tale in order to delineate all different kinds of people who heard about Jesus in their own language that day: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya, Romans, Cretans, and Arabs. Why list all those people groups unless the point is that everyone is beloved for their differences, in their differences, by their differences? And yet, they are one people gathered around the Risen Jesus.
In 1906, a Pentecostal Revival began in a Los Angeles Mission on Azusa Street. It was a black congregation with a black preacher named William J. Seymour. Of course, it is mostly remembered for reintroducing practices like speaking in tongues and divine healings in our modern age. But what is less well-known was that Azusa Street was a radically inclusive community.
In 1906, it was unheard of for white folks and black folks to worship together. But that’s what started happening at Azusa Street. At Azusa Street, black men laid hands on white women and prayed for them. Black woman laid hands on white men and prayed for them. And for me, that more than the other miracles that occurred there, is the surest sign that the Holy Spirit was truly present.
Of course, radical inclusivity scandalizes the world. A local paper wrote at the time that the Azusa Street Mission was a place of the “disgraceful intermingling of the races.” And white churches jumped on that bandwagon and dismissed it all, by reiterating the first accusation ever made: “They are filled with new wine.”
Some people think this church is filled with new wine. They take us to task on social media for daring to proclaim that the Holy Spirit is still knocking down walls and uniting people and creating new Jesus communities.
Of course, they’re mostly bothered by our Open and Affirming Covenant, which is far broader than most folks know. And I quote: “We welcome all who seek to follow Jesus, including persons of every age, gender, race, national origin, faith background, marital status and family structure, sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, mental and physical ability, economic and social status, and educational background, to share in the life, leadership, ministry, fellowship, worship, sacraments, responsibilities, blessings, and joys of our church family.”
But lest we pat ourselves on the back too quickly and think we have arrived; I remind us that words on paper and lived reality are two different things. And that the Holy Spirit will keep pushing us to live into that Pentecost vision.
So, let’s keep going. Let’s keep working and praying and thinking and hoping and dreaming about what and who this church may yet be. And let’s raise such a ruckus doing it, that people all over town are heard to wonder: “What does this mean?”
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Acts 2:1-21
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.’
Like most Americans, I am a mut. I am the product of many people with many stories, coming from many places. And, like many Americans, I am also a religious mut. I was raised in the evangelical world, ordained in the United Methodist Church, and now for many years have served in the United Church of Christ - itself a mut of a denomination bringing all kinds of people together.
Part of my evangelical upbringing that I don’t talk about very much is that for a while, we were Pentecostals. And as a child in a Pentecostal church, I was witness to all sorts of things that some of you might find… strange. During worship services, people sometimes spoke in tongues. Others claimed to have visions. Still others were considered prophets who would warn the people or sometimes predict the future. And many people claimed to have been healed miraculously by the power of prayer. Our Pentecostal church was a place where the Holy Spirit was front and center, active and vibrant and alive.
Well, that was a very long time ago for me. And sometimes I look back on that and wonder what it meant. What was I actually witnessing? Was it the Holy Spirit? Or was it just human emotion? Or was it a combination of the two, or something else entirely?
So, it still perplexes me. But the Holy Spirit has been perplexing the church since the beginning. It’s that part of the Trinity that we just don’t know what to do with. God the Father we sort of understand, although I fear we often think of him as an old man on a throne hurling lightening bolts. God the Son we have a better handle on because Jesus, though divine, was also thoroughly human. But God the Holy Spirit? Just what is it, or she, or he, or they?
But today we have to think about it because it’s Pentecost. We might be wondering: “What does this mean?” And that is an excellent question that people have been asking since that first Pentecost: “What does this mean?”
Jesus had told his disciples to wait in Jerusalem until they had been clothed with something called “power from on high.” So, one hundred and twenty people, including the mother of Jesus, were gathered in an upstairs room. They were there because it was a feast day called Shavuot. This festival had started as a harvest celebration. It had morphed over time into a celebration of the giving of the Law. And now it was about to become take on another identity: Pentecost.
Pentekostos, a Greek word meaning fiftieth was a reference to the passing of fifty days since the Passover. And for these new Christians gathered in an upper room, it was fifty days since the Resurrection. Today is fifty days since Easter.
So, there they were celebrating Shavuot, when suddenly the sound of a mighty, rushing wind filled the house. Then divided tongues of fire, which did not burn but blessed, seemed to hover over their heads. Then, they began to speak in other languages that they had never learned before – telling the glory of God.
And it was loud enough that the people on the streets heard this ruckus. And because Jerusalem was one of the crossroads of the world, it was filled with all kinds of people speaking all kinds of languages. And now they heard the Gospel of Jesus in their own sweet mother tongues, with all the nuances and culture and layered meanings of language. And everyone who experienced this act of the Spirit was amazed and asked: “What does this mean?”
There isn’t enough time to tell you everything that scholars say that this might mean, but here are a few things for us to consider on the precipice of our fourth century of ministry to Cheshire.
First of all, I think it’s fair to say that Pentecost was a thorough repudiation of conformity. Now some people have said that what happened on that day was reversal of the tower of Babel. You might remember that in the book of Genesis there is a tale about how the people of the earth began to erect a great tower in an attempt to reach all the way to the heavens. And God saw this and God said that these humans could do anything they set their minds to – even scale to heaven. And so, God confused their languages so they could no longer communicate. And thus, they abandoned their great building project and dispersed to the far corners of the earth.
But I don’t think that Pentecost was a reversal of Babel. A reversal would have meant that that everyone on the streets that day would have suddenly all been understanding the same language. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the Holy Spirit spoke their languages. And that makes Pentecost a blessing of Babel; celebration of ethnicity and diversity and difference. When the Spirit comes, people don’t have to learn the church’s language. The church has to speak the people’s language.
And to make the point abundantly clear, the writer of the book of Acts slows way down in this breathless tale in order to delineate all different kinds of people who heard about Jesus in their own language that day: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya, Romans, Cretans, and Arabs. Why list all those people groups unless the point is that everyone is beloved for their differences, in their differences, by their differences? And yet, they are one people gathered around the Risen Jesus.
In 1906, a Pentecostal Revival began in a Los Angeles Mission on Azusa Street. It was a black congregation with a black preacher named William J. Seymour. Of course, it is mostly remembered for reintroducing practices like speaking in tongues and divine healings in our modern age. But what is less well-known was that Azusa Street was a radically inclusive community.
In 1906, it was unheard of for white folks and black folks to worship together. But that’s what started happening at Azusa Street. At Azusa Street, black men laid hands on white women and prayed for them. Black woman laid hands on white men and prayed for them. And for me, that more than the other miracles that occurred there, is the surest sign that the Holy Spirit was truly present.
Of course, radical inclusivity scandalizes the world. A local paper wrote at the time that the Azusa Street Mission was a place of the “disgraceful intermingling of the races.” And white churches jumped on that bandwagon and dismissed it all, by reiterating the first accusation ever made: “They are filled with new wine.”
Some people think this church is filled with new wine. They take us to task on social media for daring to proclaim that the Holy Spirit is still knocking down walls and uniting people and creating new Jesus communities.
Of course, they’re mostly bothered by our Open and Affirming Covenant, which is far broader than most folks know. And I quote: “We welcome all who seek to follow Jesus, including persons of every age, gender, race, national origin, faith background, marital status and family structure, sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, mental and physical ability, economic and social status, and educational background, to share in the life, leadership, ministry, fellowship, worship, sacraments, responsibilities, blessings, and joys of our church family.”
But lest we pat ourselves on the back too quickly and think we have arrived; I remind us that words on paper and lived reality are two different things. And that the Holy Spirit will keep pushing us to live into that Pentecost vision.
So, let’s keep going. Let’s keep working and praying and thinking and hoping and dreaming about what and who this church may yet be. And let’s raise such a ruckus doing it, that people all over town are heard to wonder: “What does this mean?”
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