Sermon for May 24, 2026, Pentecost

May 24, 2026, Pentecost

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



First Reading: Acts 2:1-21
Psalm: Psalm 104:24-34, 35b
Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
Gospel: John 20:19-23



If we’ve been part of a church for any amount of time, say longer than 5 years, we might have opinions about Pentecost. We might consider it the birthday of the Church or the Holy Spirit. Maybe we associate Pentecost with Confirmation. Maybe it’s all about the color red or the geraniums.


Our readings for today show us the traditional scriptural depictions of Pentecost and how the Holy Spirit gets into the world. In the reading from the Gospel of John, the Holy Spirit arrives when Jesus breathes on the disciples. In the reading from Corinthians, we see Paul understanding the Holy Spirit giving believers a variety of skills and gifts with which to do God’s work. There’s also our first reading from Acts, the one that tells us what happened, the rush of violent wind, the tongues of flame, the ability to speak in languages that they didn’t already know—not mystical languages but languages that people from other places could hear and understand. Imagine the gift of being able to speak in Spanish or Mandarin Chinese—without years of study and practice. Imagine how many doors might open if we could do that. Or maybe, as our reading shows us, we’d face criticism and ugly inuendo.


The reading from Acts is probably what most of us think of when we think of Pentecost. When I was a child, it sounded marvelous, like getting a superpower. And indeed, that’s the story most of us are taught: the Holy Spirit comes and transforms the disciples and they go out and transform the world. Those stories of Christians transforming the world usually gloss over—or leave out completely—the difficulties.


It was not until the Pentecost Sunday after Hurricane Wilma when I considered how scary our Pentecost symbolism could and perhaps should be. Hurricane Wilma swept through South Florida in 2005, one of those one in a hundred year (or these days, 1 in every 10 year) supercharged hurricane times that included Hurricane Katrina. Katrina and Wilma both did damage to my house, and Wilma did extreme damage to St. John’s Lutheran Church in Hollywood, FL, our church at the time. After all the months of storm clean up, hearing about violent, rushing wind as a marker of the arrival of the Holy Spirit was disquieting, to say the least.


As I mentioned last week, if we look at the lives of the disciples, we see that the arrival of the Holy Spirit can be disrupting, like a supercharged hurricane season. Friday night, I had a very different vision of the Holy Spirit loose in the world.


On Friday afternoon, church members arrived for the fish fry to find that June Rasmussen had made these exquisite aprons in a variety of colors, all of them reversible. They’re all cut from the same pattern, but that pattern fit all of us—as a woman who has spent more time than I like to think looking for clothes that fit my non-standard body, I can say with certainty that one pattern that fits a variety of bodies, that’s a rare and wonderful pattern. I know that we’re here to think about our spiritual lives and all of the spiritual gifts we’ve been given, but just for a moment, think about all the physical bodies in this room. Some of us are tall, and some of us aren’t. Some of us have bodies that are wide—and some of us aren’t. Some of us are male, and some of us are female. Yet these aprons fit us all.


At one point I looked across the fellowship hall and saw all of us wearing our aprons, and I thought, now here’s a metaphor for the Holy Spirit at work in the world—these aprons are a great metaphor for the Holy Spirit itself. That idea felt scary and taboo, like I was transgressing some important religious boundary.


I’m a Lutheran who went to a liberal arts college, so transgression of a religious boundary doesn’t scare me the way it might if I was brought up in a different tradition. Let us think about the way the Holy Spirit is like this apron. As Jesus did with strange parables, let us see what happens if we use a different metaphor to think in new ways—Holy Spirit as reversible apron.


Many of us have limited exposure to the book of Acts, reading from it only at Pentecost. If we continued to read the book of Acts, we’d see the disciples arguing about what they had experienced. Who gets to use the apron? The Holy Spirit came for who, exactly? If it was just for the Jews, then why speak in different languages? And for the next two thousand years, that argument continues—how do we interpret Pentecost? Do we go out and bring the message to all nations? Or do we stay closer to home?


While Christians have been having these discussions/arguments for thousands of years, the Holy Spirit continues to travel, making appearances in interesting and unexpected places, draping itself over a wide variety of humans. Like an apron, the Holy Spirit gives the wearer the courage to act boldly. I would hesitate to stand in front of a deep fryer without an apron—too much danger of getting burned or ruining clothes that aren’t easy for me to find. But with an apron? Sure, I’ll help fry. An apron comes with the promise that we will be protected if we take chances; similarly, Jesus tells us that the Holy Spirit will bring protection when we are working for the Kingdom of God. We need not be afraid—we can act boldly for the Kingdom of God as we work for justice or create beautiful art or minister to the poor or take care of the generations coming after us or heal bodies or the earth or tend to families.


That promise of protection can give us courage, along with protection. Like an apron, if we trust in the Triune God, the Holy Spirit can help us find what we need in the moment—maybe it’s courage, maybe it’s boldness, maybe it’s the ability to communicate in new ways.

As I looked at the aprons, I was struck by how they are alike, yet different—different colors, different pockets that matched and contrasted, how the cloth on one side harmonized with the other side. I thought about how we each get the same presence of the Holy Spirit along with the mission of continuing the work that Jesus commissions us to do—and yet, like those aprons on Friday night, each person’s Holy Spirit experience is unique. The Holy Spirit moving in the world is like the best cloth shop with so many colors and patterns that the combinations are endless.


An apron doesn’t promise that our ventures will proceed in the ways that we’ve envisioned. And the presence of the Holy Spirit also does not come with the promise that we control the show—far from it. I wasn’t at Faith Lutheran when the first fish fries were planned, but I’m willing to bet that part of what was hoped for this project was new members. Do we have anyone here who came to membership in this church by way of one of the fish fry events?


No, most of us came for other reasons. But the fact that the fish fry doesn’t generate new membership doesn’t mean that they haven’t been valuable. I talked to many of our guests on Friday night, and they came for a variety of reasons, but almost all of them talked about the value of the fish fry to the community for so many reasons: the money raised, the chance to eat with old friends, the value of a good meal. I looked at all of us in our colorful aprons, so tired from the prep work and the service work, but having a good time, and I saw God at work in the world. I saw the Holy Spirit at work in the world, not in tongues of flame or violent rushing wind, but in a congregation having fun together, draped in protective aprons that another member made for us.


We might look around us, though, and worry about the future. Sure, we can pull together and do fish fries now, but what about in 10 years. We might rejoice in our 2 confirmands today, while feeling some sorrow that there aren’t more. We might lose sight of the fact that we only have part of the story.


Each Pentecost, we remember beginnings that might not have been seen as the start of something bold and new. Jesus breathes on the disciples—and then he leaves them. The Holy Spirit comes in the book of Acts, and the disciples will spend the rest of their lives trying to determine the direction they should go next.


Let us remember that we have not yet seen the completed creation or the fullness of the Triune God who breathed into the chaos and began this life we have together. We see God breathe new life in Genesis and Jesus breathe new life in John. On this Pentecost Sunday, let us remember to breathe. Let us go forth to claim our gifts that the Holy Spirit grants to us, sure in the knowledge, that, like a good apron, the Holy Spirit will equip us to do the work that needs us to do it.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel (Pentecost)

  The readings for Sunday, May 24, 2026:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Numbers 11:24-30

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 20:19-23

Gospel (Alt.): John 7:37-39



Ah, Pentecost, day of fire and wind and foreign languages.

Contemplate how much of Scripture circles around the breath of God. Reread Genesis--creation comes into being because God breathes it into life. Something similar happens in the Gospel of John. Jesus breathes on his disciples and transforms them. Likewise in Acts--that great rushing wind. For those of you in love with words and older translations, we often find the same word in these passages: Pneuma (yes, that root that creates our modern word of pneumonia).

The twenty-first century Church, at least some branches of it, is in serious need of the breath of God. Perhaps you are too.

I often think of those first followers, who went out with the breath of God in them, and transformed the world. In the history of social movements, few have been as broadly successful as Christianity. My atheist friends would chime in that few have been as destructive--we both may be right. What an unlikely story: a small band of weirdly talented or distinctly ungifted men and women head out in pairs, carrying very little with them, and they survive enormous obstacles. In the process, they change the culture--and often, then, they move on. Think of the distances that they travelled--often on foot. Think of how hostile the culture was. You wouldn't be able to suspend your disbelief if you read it in a book.

The breath of God can transform us in the same way. Jesus transfers his powers to his disciples; we're given the power to do what he does. Now, if only we could believe it.

Maybe the key is to act as if you do believe it. You can do remarkable things, even if you don't feel like you can.

We're at a point in history that may prove to be a pivot.  We've had plagues and pandemics.  We've had political upheavals from left and right.  Weather related catastrophes happen regularly.  Many people are already considering how to use this moment in history for their own purposes.  How can we use this moment to create a society that's more in line with the vision that God has for us?

Maybe the thought of transformation exhausts you in the best of times.  Maybe the question of transformation threatens to overwhelm you.  Maybe you are already drowning.

So let's begin from a much simpler place.  Let's return to a fundamental religious practice and focus on our breathing.  In his book, Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, researcher James Nestor points us to a study showing that breathing in for 5-6 seconds and breathing out for 5-6 seconds can help restore our sense of calm and well being.  Breathing more deeply can heal us in all sorts of ways, especially if we remember to focus on our breath more often.

As we focus on our breathing, let's add a powerful meditative element.  As you inhale, envision God breathing into you. Breathe deeply.  Receive the breath of God.  As you exhale, imagine God's grace and goodness flowing into the world. 

The world needs to receive the breath of God.  The planet cries out for healing.  The stories of Pentecost show us ways to begin.

Sermon for Pentecost

June 8, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Pentecost Sunday


First of all, a big thank you to the Confirmation students who made our streamer sticks, and a big thank you to those of you who were willing to wave them during our processional hymn. The first year I ever saw streamer sticks in use was at the Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly in 2012. Those streamers were on much larger sticks, which was both wonderful, in terms of beauty and drama, but hazardous in terms of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling in the meeting rooms where the Synod Assembly was held. One chandelier was shattered and Carl leaned over to whisper to me, “Rowdiest Lutheran worship ever!”

Lesson learned—you’ll notice that we’re not using sticks big enough to take out our chandeliers. But what a great metaphor for the inbreaking Holy Spirit. As we’ve been reading the stories from Acts today and these past weeks, I’ve been reflecting on how those first believers’ lives were shattered even more after Jesus leaves them than in the days when they were following Jesus.

In today’s reading from Acts, we see them in the early days of shattered lives—Jesus gone, they’ve been told to wait, and they have no idea what they wait for. My rabbi friend Rachel Barenblat notes that it is a festival time in Jerusalem, the Feast of Weeks, 50 days after the start of Passover, a feast that celebrates the revelation of the 10 commandments at Mt. Sinai.

By the time the story is done, the book of Acts written, those first believers are probably feeling more unified than shattered—the shards of their earlier lives have come together into a new shape. The festival day of Pentecost reminds us that great things can happen when the Holy Spirit takes hold of a community. If we need a reminder of that, all we need to do is to look at the state of the church on Pentecost morning, and then think about the spread of Christianity in the decade after Pentecost.

And Christianity was spread by word of mouth and regular people--sure, there were some superstars like Paul. But Paul came and went and then regular people had to keep the vision alive.

They did. Pentecost both celebrates that fact and invites us to think about what the Holy Spirit might be up to in our 21st century.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

John's Gospel reading for Pentecost has a different emphasis. Throughout the whole fourteenth chapter of John, Jesus promises that we're not going to be left alone. Jesus must know how hard it will be for his disciples; it's been somewhat easy for them as they sojourn with their Savior. But once he's gone, how will they carry on?

Once again, we have Jesus saying he will pray for the disciples. He tells the disciples that they will have everything they need as they go out into the world. He suggests that the new incarnation of himself/God/Spirit will dwell inside us.

I feel like this Gospel lesson peers straight into our souls, our tired, overstretched souls, as Jesus reminds us that we are not alone. Verse 18, the verse after this Gospel ends has Jesus promise, "I will not leave you orphaned; I will come to you" (John 14: 18). That's the Good News of this Gospel: we are not alone. We do not have to go about our Pentecostal mission alone. Jesus reminds us that it's a team effort: "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it" (John 14: 13-14). Jesus reminds us of all that we can accomplish, if we work to discern the vision that God has for creation and our part to play.

I love the way the Gospel ends, with these images of all these incarnations of the Divine, swirling in the world around us, breathed into us, gathering within us. In our Gospel today, Jesus reminds us that we are enough because we're not all alone; the Holy Spirit comes, which helps us work collectively for the inbreaking Kingdom of God. It's a message that's so unlike the messages beamed to us from the larger culture in which so many of us live our daily lives. Our larger culture does not treasure teamwork—not teamwork with God, not teamwork with each other. Our popular culture likes the larger-than-life leader, the one who goes it alone. Don't believe me? watch T.V. for a week, watch politics, go to the movies, talk to friends about what’s going on in the workplace--it's rare to see a team working together for the greater good. These days it’s far more common to see teams working to dismantle the vision of the greater good that previous generations built.

Jesus reminds us again and again that we are more than adequate—humans transformed by the intervention of the Holy Spirit. We see disciples that are gloriously human in many of the ways that we are too, and Jesus takes a small band of these flawed humans and changes the world as he sends them out to work in small groups, groups committed to each other and to God. Jesus can take our overscheduled selves and transform us, so that we love each other, that we become one with each other and God, his ultimate dream for us.

Imagine for a moment that you are part of the crowd on that first day of Pentecost, that you hear these uneducated, Galilean disciples speaking to you in your home language. You might have been expecting once again to celebrate the revelation of the 10 commandments to Moses, but to hear of a new revelation about more recent deeds of power of God at work in the world? To hear these words in your own language, in a multitude of languages, spoken by Galilean men who couldn’t have known any other language but their own?

Now imagine your current self, alive in a time when all sorts of people use all sorts of resources to spew all sorts of nonsense masquerading as knowledge. We’re told that developments in artificial technology might save us, but so far, the machines hallucinate and spew slop.

Listen again to the words of the ancient 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.
 18Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
  in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
   and they shall prophesy.


What might this look like in our current day, to have a prophetic imagination? In his classic text, The Prophetic Imagination, Walter Brueggemann, who died this week at the age of 92, tells us that the prophet shows us a world in which God can act and that God has a plan and a purpose (p. 218). We have the promise of the ancient prophets like Joel that if we can use our power to align ourselves and our societies to right relationship with God and with each other, we can turn ourselves and our societies in a new direction, one where we can discover a true path to flourishing.

Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our midst and to fill us with the ability to see righteousness and the fire to bring God’s visions to life. Pentecost reminds us to be the ones who call to our communities in languages that they understand to tell them that a better world can be created. Jesus has not left us orphaned, living in the shattered remnants of a once beautiful and beaming light. The Triune God speaks to us in our home language, reminding us of past promises kept, calling us to new communities—all of us, gathered into one.

Jesus promised an advocate, and the Holy Spirit has come, wind and fire and power from on high. Get ready to dream new visions!

The Day After Pentecost

This morning I'm thinking about the morning after Pentecost--not so much my day after Pentecost, but that day after the first Pentecost of rushing wind and tongues of flame.  When the disciples woke up the next morning, what were their thoughts?  What happened on day 2?

Acts 2 gives us a general idea in very broad strokes:  42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

But I wonder about the individual who was there:  the disciple, the woman follower, a member of the crowd.  Did they wake up on the morning after and think, what happened yesterday?

As I was getting ready for Sunday worship yesterday, I thought about past Pentecosts, about years when we had a crew of confirmands and years we didn't.  I thought about people who might be ordained.  I thought about banners we created at my Florida church years ago and wondered if Trinity Lutheran would be using them.  They lasted longer than I thought they might--they were made out of tissue paper and fabric and glue.

We had fewer worshippers yesterday at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee, where I am the Synod Appointed Minister, but we did have two visitors.  They were people from the community, so perhaps they will be back.  Our worship yesterday wasn't different from our normal worship, so it's not like visiting a church on Christmas Eve or Easter, where you don't get a very representative experience.

Yesterday when I got to Faith Lutheran, I was alone in the sanctuary.  I was struck by the simple Pentecost beauty of the space:

The windows are perfect for Pentecost!  I started my SAM experience almost a year ago, on the Sunday after Pentecost, and one of the first things my spouse and I noticed was the windows.  It's unusual to see church windows that are just one color of glass like the ones above.  We talked about how they would be perfect for Pentecost.

I'm glad to still be here, so that I could see for myself.

Pentecost Sermon 2024

May 19, 2024

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Pentecost Sermon

• First reading
  • Acts 2:1-21
• Psalm
  • Psalm 104:24-34, 35b
• Second reading
  • Romans 8:22-27
• Gospel
  • John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

Pentecost is the 3rd great festival of the Church, and as most of us know, the other two festivals are Easter and Christmas. Pentecost has been the overlooked festival, in most of our churches. It never slips by without notice, but it’s not a church festival that comes with traditions that we anticipate for months. We don’t have gift giving traditions or special foods—at least most of us don’t. We don’t necessarily go out of our way to get together with far flung family members. We don’t have time off.

For all these reasons, we may assume that Pentecost isn’t the most important of the Church holidays. But consider what we are celebrating. At Christmas, we celebrate the incarnation, God coming to live with us, alongside us, or, as The Message version of the Bible says, “Moving into the neighborhood.” But as a specific person during a specific time, God can only be with a few of us at a time. Pentecost celebrates a new possibility, a way that God can be with all of us, all at the same time, all part of a large community.

When we think of Pentecost, we may think of it as the beginning of the Church, where the Holy Spirit takes control and those hapless disciples are transformed. The Church spreads far and wide, despite the differences in cultures, language, and beliefs. Books have been written dissecting all the reasons for the success of Christianity. Even more books have been written explaining to us modern disciples how we, too, could harness the power of the Holy Spirit, if we just believed enough. We may have been told about how the book of Acts is called the book of Acts, not the book of waiting, not the book of sitting on the sofa, so we, too, should go out and act.

As I read the texts for this week, I’m struck by how differently people experience the Holy Spirit are in today’s collection of texts. I had a similar reaction during my 9 months of Systematic Theology class, a sense of wonder about the different ways that we understand the different aspects of the Triune God. Today, we focus on the Holy Spirit.

Our reading from Acts ( Acts 2:1-21) is a traditional understanding of the Holy Spirit. There’s wind, tongues of fire, the ability to speak in languages previously unknown. It’s a reading that shows us that the arrival of the Holy Spirit can be more chaos than comfort. This chaos may explain why the Church has focused on the other two big holidays, Christmas and Easter, and not focused on Pentecost. Our reading from Acts shows us that the Holy Spirit loose and moving in the world can be both transformative and scary, putting us on a collision course with people who like the status quo. But that’s not the only depiction of the Holy Spirit that we have, even if it’s the one we hear most about.

In the Gospel of John, the arrival of the Holy Spirit is a much more intimate happening. In the twentieth chapter, Jesus breathes on the disciples, and that’s how they receive the Holy Spirit. In today’s reading, which is a few verses earlier, before the crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus tells the disciples what to expect. It’s a comforting kind of relationship, a way to move beyond the grieving that comes with the loss of Jesus and his physical presence. Jesus talks about the Holy Spirit as a guide, the one who will lead us to the Truth.

From there, if we didn’t know the complexities of the story, we might assume that everything ends happily ever after. Jesus rises from the dead, showing that God doesn’t have to be constrained by the powers and principalities of our current world. Jesus gets to go to Heaven and the Holy Spirit stays behind to lead us all to Truth and having the right words to say. We may assume that we’ll be like Peter, with the courage to confront those who were besmirching the disciples when they spoke in different languages.

But what about those days when we don’t have that courage? How do we keep going when we don’t have visions to sustain us? It’s in the reading from Romans that we get a Pentecost message that feels most life affirming to me in our current day and time. Here we have an image of the Holy Spirit praying the prayers that we do not know how to pray.

I don’t always feel like Paul’s letters are written for those of us in the twenty-first century, and indeed, they were not. Paul was writing to specific groups of believers about specific local problems. But what makes his writing continue to be relevant is the way that he captures the human condition. This week, I’ve been thinking about creation groaning in labor pains. Creation groans, and we groan. We have hope in that which we have not yet seen. But it can be tough, these times of pain and hope.

 

We have to remind ourselves that we are not the Messiah, that we do not have all the answers. We may not even be asking the right questions. In these times, when we’re not sure what to pray, how to pray, it’s a comfort to think of the Holy Spirit as a kind of intercessor.

Our reading from Psalms reminds us of the larger picture. Humans have a tendency to get snarled up in any number of ways, and most of them won’t matter when we’re dead. They don’t even matter now. Like so many of the Psalms, our Psalm for today, reminds us of the glory of God’s creation, of how humans are just a part of that glory, and often a small part. Here we see the Holy Spirit as a co-creator, working with God to renew the face of the earth. In this Psalm, we’re reminded that we are not the ones in charge. I touch the mountains, my own little piece of them, and nothing happens. God touches the mountains, and they smoke. The open hand of God fills us all with good things—not only humans, but all of creation. The Holy Spirit working in the larger cosmos is a much larger manifestation of the Holy Spirit that the disciples experience as tongues of flame and rushing wind.

Pentecost is a more varied festival than I had been trained to expect. We’ve got Holy Spirit as life giving force in the Psalm, Holy Spirit as transformative force in Acts, and the Holy Spirit as a comforter and a coach in John. And when we don’t know what to do with all of this, Paul promises that the Holy Spirit will intercede for us, will pray the words that we can’t quite figure out.

The future of this new creation doesn’t depend on us having the right words or the right answers. Thank God for that.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel and the Feast of Pentecost

The readings for Sunday, May 19, 2024, Pentecost:

• First reading
  • Acts 2:1-21 or Ezekiel 37:1-14
• Psalm
  • Psalm 104:24-34, 35b
• Second reading
  • Romans 8:22-27 or Acts 2:1-21
• Gospel
  • John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

It's been an interesting experience, saying the doctrinal creeds each week at church, after a week of reflecting on them for Systematic Theology.  It will be interesting celebrating Pentecost after having spent significant amounts of time exploring the Trinity in Systematic Theology, asking questions like, who precedes from whom?  Does Jesus have power because the Holy Spirit overtakes him at baptism?  Does Jesus release the Holy Spirit by breathing on the disciples or is the Holy Spirit working independently in the form of flame and wind?

I do realize that most of us will not be thinking about Trinitarian theology as we approach this holiday.  We'll wear the red clothes that we keep for Pentecost and Reformation.  Maybe we'll take part in a multi-lingual reading.  Maybe there will be confirmation and/or cake.  But how many of us will reflect deeply on the beginning of this church holiday?

It's worth considering.  The festival day of Pentecost reminds us that great things can happen when the Holy Spirit takes hold of a community. If we need a reminder of that, all we need to do is to look at the state of the church on Pentecost morning, and then think about the spread of Christianity in the decade after Pentecost.

And Christianity was spread by regular people--sure, there were some superstars like Paul. But Paul came and went, and then regular people had to keep the vision alive.

They did. Pentecost both celebrates that fact and invites us to welcome the Holy Spirit in to our modern communities.  The idea of the Holy Spirit coming to our 21st century communities might inspire fear--or perhaps weariness.  We've had so many years of thinking about how the Church is faltering or failing.  We worry about dwindling membership.  We worry about what will happen to our buildings and cemeteries when support finally dies.

Christmas tells us that God loves us so much that God comes to be with us in human form.  Easter tells us that God defeats the forces of death that want to crush us.  Pentecost tells us that we don't have to have a five year plan, that the Holy Spirit is loose in the world, and that transformation awaits.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

God became incarnate to prepare humans to carry on the work of Kingdom creation. And Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our hollowed out spaces and to fill us with the fire to dream and the resources to bring our visions to life.

Camp Counselors, the Young and the Old

On this past Sunday of interesting juxtapositions, our regular church service was a celebration of Pentecost and a blessing of/introduction to counselors from the nearby camp, Lutheridge, where I have a house in the residential section.  

The church sanctuary was full, even fuller than it had been the week before, when we celebrated 60 years of the church's existence.  Part of that was the presence of all of the counselors, about 60 in all.  Some of the people at church seemed to be visiting--it is a holiday week-end, after all, the 3 day week-end kind of holiday.

Some of us in the congregation had worked at Lutheridge, and many of us have supported Lutheridge in a number of ways.  Given that, I was surprised by how many people in attendance on Sunday hadn't been involved with Lutheridge, even though the entrance to the camp is less than a mile than the entrance to the church.  Not for the first time have I thought about how all the various types of church work live in siloes that never interact and how sad that is, how those siloes never communicate except for asking for money.  Sigh.

But today, let me not unpack that idea further.  No, today, let me celebrate these camp counselors.  I am awed that there are still people who make the decision to spend a summer at camp, living in such very different circumstances than their peers (eating camp food, sleeping in tents, hiking all day, going up and down and up and down the hill, working/living with children).  When I was young, my dream was to work at Lutheridge--back then, there weren't enough counselor spots for all the people who had those dreams.  Now the situation is different.

I found a counselor job at a Girl Scout camp, Camp Congaree, which gave me similar but different opportunities.  I got to be a backpacking counselor.  I spent the summer with mostly women and girls, which is a kind of community that works for me, although I didn't realize it then in the way that I do now--and to be fair, we weren't living in that community in the best ways that we could, not living it in the ways I idealize now.  

Maybe no community is living its best self--that's probably the lesson I should remember from all of my years of studying and creating intentional community.

But camp counselors have a head start, in that they're a self-selected group.  And the group that we blessed on Sunday has an additional motive--they're here at Lutheridge to help with the spiritual formation of children, in addition to all the other kinds of formation that they will do.

They look so young to me, and yet, at the same time, in my head, I'm closer to their age than my own.  In real life, I am the same age as their parents, many of whom were also camp counselors.  Those camp counselors are just starting life as adult selves (adult-ish?).  I am having a hard time believing I am as old as I am, but I am much closer to my senior years than my childhood years.  Time in my head wrinkles and crunches and has a few rips here and there.

This summer, I will do more at summer camp than attend a week as an adult or a camper.  I'll deliver mail, lead middle schoolers in a week of Bible study, and perhaps assist in the camp store.  It's going to be an interesting summer, a mix of a seminary class that I'm taking, online classes that I'm teaching, and camp life.  It will be the first summer where I won't be suffocating in the intense heat.  Hopefully, it will be the first of many magnificent mountain summers.

Pentecost Promises

The third great church holiday is upon us, although many of us don't think about Pentecost that way.  We don't give Pentecost gifts.  We don't go out to buy our special, new Pentecost outfits--although we may pull out our red clothes.  We don't have food that we only eat on Pentecost.

Perhaps, though, we'll have a birthday cake for the church at coffee hour.  Perhaps there will be confirmands.  Maybe we've decorated the church in special ways.  Will there be streamer sticks or fans or something else to remind us of the great rush of wind?

Lately, I've wondered if we're taking some of the power out of Pentecost.  Are we cheapening the festival by these efforts?

I worry that we get lost in our decorating and art projects, as fun as they are.  I worry that we forget about the message of Pentecost.  It's not about transforming the surfaces of our worship spaces, much as they might need that.  It's about getting us out of our worship spaces to go out to transform the world.  No wonder we throw ourselves into our decorating projects.  The true mission of Pentecost makes us too uncomfortable to bear.

Pentecost is the holiday designed for discomfort, a celebration that should stir us to get up off the couch to go out and do great things. We learn about Pentecost in the book of Acts, after all, not the book of Sleeping Late. Perhaps that’s why so many of us approach Pentecost with a bit of apprehension. Throughout church history, we’ve seen what the presence of the Holy Spirit can do, even in the most improbable settings.

If we let the Holy Spirit loose in our home churches, what might happen? If we trusted in the transforming power of God, what changes might we see, both in our individual lives and in the lives of our church bodies? How might our local society and the larger world be different? The answers to those questions might scare us.

Maybe the answers don't scare us, so much as the thought of the effort involved makes us tired before we've even started.  But Pentecost assures us that it's OK.  God comes to us where we are.  We don't already need to be perfect believers.  In fact, the Bible is full of the wonders that God creates with the most imperfect people.  You likely wouldn't choose the 12 disciples if you were choosing a team to transform your church or business.  But Jesus showed us what was possible from a ragtag group of unlikely leaders.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

God became incarnate to prepare humans to carry on the work of Kingdom creation. And Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our hollowed out spaces and to fill us with the fire to dream and the resources to bring our visions to life.

Pentecost Eve

Tomorrow is Pentecost, which means today is Pentecost Eve.  My holiday combining side wants to ask what treats we'll leave out for the Holy Spirit.  My cynical side says that most of us don't want to invite the Holy Spirit into our lives for fear of all that will need to change.

I've often thought that the imagery we use for Pentecost makes it hard for us--wind and fire are change agents to be sure, but few of us welcome their intrusion into our lives.  I'll spend this Pentecost Eve thinking of a different set of metaphors.  A few years ago, I wrote an article for Gather magazine that imagined God as quilt group, Holy Trinity as quilt group, and I said this about the Holy Spirit:  "The Holy Spirit is a quilt group member, too. The Spirit is the one who comes to us with support and information about the quilt shows that the Spirit calls us to enter. The Holy Spirit, an encourager, believes in our creative powers, even when we’re less sure ourselves."

Next Sunday I'll be preaching for the first time at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Trinity Sunday.  Let me remember to return to that article as I prepare my sermon.

But before next Sunday comes tomorrow, Pentecost.  And today is a good day to return to the Pentecost narrative, the end of Luke, the beginning of Acts.  On the eve of Pentecost, those believers didn't know what was about to happen. I imagine that they felt at loose ends. Christ was with them, then crucified, then with them again, then gone. What now?

Many of us may feel like those disciples--we've experienced a time of exhausting change, from the pandemic, from political shifts, from a war in Europe, from collapses of various sorts.  It's no wonder that we have no patience for this story about wind and fire and upheaval.  We've had quite enough of that.  

Maybe we have been feeling that we're in a post-Ascension, pre-Pentecost time. Maybe one mission has come to an end, and we're not sure what to do next. Maybe we're still recovering from a time of grief and loss. Maybe our favorite leader has left. Maybe we're casting about for a project that could set our hearts on fire.

Pentecost promises us that we won't be adrift forever. At some point the Holy Spirit will come, brimming with suggestions and opportunities, and we'll be able to do more than we ever dreamed possible.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel (Pentecost)

 The readings for Sunday, May 28, 2023:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Numbers 11:24-30

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 20:19-23

Gospel (Alt.): John 7:37-39



Ah, Pentecost, day of fire and wind and foreign languages.

Contemplate how much of Scripture circles around the breath of God. Reread Genesis--creation comes into being because God breathes it into life. Something similar happens in the Gospel of John. Jesus breathes on his disciples and transforms them. Likewise in Acts--that great rushing wind. For those of you in love with words and older translations, we often find the same word in these passages: Pneuma (yes, that root that creates our modern word of pneumonia).

The twenty-first century church, at least some branches of it, is in serious need of the breath of God. Perhaps you are too.

I often think of those first followers, who went out with the breath of God in them, and transformed the world. In the history of social movements, few have been as broadly successful as Christianity. My atheist friends would chime in that few have been as destructive--we both may be right. What an unlikely story: a small band of weirdly talented or distinctly ungifted men and women head out in pairs, carrying very little with them, and they survive enormous obstacles. In the process, they change the culture--and often, then, they move on. Think of the distances that they travelled--often on foot. Think of how hostile the culture was. You wouldn't be able to suspend your disbelief if you read it in a book.

The breath of God can transform us in the same way. Jesus transfers his powers to his disciples; we're given the power to do what he does. Now, if only we could believe it.

Maybe the key is to act as if you do believe it. You can do remarkable things, even if you don't feel like you can.

We're at a point in history that may prove to be a pivot.  Plagues and pandemics have often transformed societies in ways that wouldn't have been possible otherwise, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.  We're in a time of political upheaval--it's possible that we dream of a society transformed for better and achieve it, precisely because of the upheaval.  Many people are already considering how to use this moment in history for their own purposes.  How can we use this moment to create a society that's more in line with the vision that God has for us?

Maybe the thought of transformation exhausts you in the best of times.  Maybe the question of transformation threatens to overwhelm you.  Maybe you are already drowning.

So let's begin from a much simpler place.  In a time of a new disease that attacks the lungs, let's focus on our breathing.  In his new book, Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, researcher James Nestor points us to a study showing that breathing in for 5-6 seconds and breathing out for 5-6 seconds can help restore our sense of calm and well being.  Breathing more deeply can heal us in all sorts of ways, especially if we remember to focus on our breath more often.

As we focus on our breathing, let's add a powerful meditative element.  As you inhale, envision God breathing into you. Breathe deeply.  Receive the breath of God.  As you exhale, imagine God's grace and goodness flowing into the world. .

The world needs to receive the breath of God.  The planet cries out for healing.  The stories of Pentecost show us ways to begin.

Pentecostal Visits on Pentecost

Our Synod Assembly was held In a conference area like the ones that so many big hotels seem to have:  huge rooms with collapsible walls so that many groups can meet throughout the conference area in various configurations. This was one of the first assemblies where I was aware of the group meeting next door. They seemed to have loud music at times when we were trying to hear various speakers.  When we had meditative moments before and during worship, loud music thumped from next door.

Midway through our meeting, we learned the group next door was a group of Spanish speaking women gathered to pray. Clearly, their prayer style is different than our Lutheran assembly prayer style. Knowing that fact however made it easier to be patient.

Our closing worship was on Pentecost Sunday, and for most of the service it seemed like a regular high church holiday:  special robes, special paraments, special music. But at the end of this service, a truly special event happened.

The leader of the group next door came to address our assembly. First she spoke to our Bishop. He is bilingual, and she only spoke Spanish. When she addressed the whole group, one of the younger women translated.

Many of us were moved by this expression of Christian unity. Their faith tradition is very different from ours.  it was a group of Pentecostal women, Latinas, and we were a group of high church Lutherans. The woman from next door pointed out that the wall that separated us was the only wall that was moveable. They had spent time in their assembly with their hands pressed to the movable wall as they prayed for us and the larger world. We had spent time in our chairs praying for them and the larger world.

Will any transformations happen because of this encounter? It's hard not to think of all the gun violence across multiple cities in the US yesterday and feel hopeful.

And yet I think back to the first Pentecost, those disciples with no reason to feel hopeful about the future of the Roman Empire. Then the Holy Spirit came, and they were transformed, and the world was transformed.

The 21st century will offer many opportunities for transformation. Let us hope that the Holy Spirit swooshes through the land, giving all of us a vision for how life might be better and the energy to make it so.

Sermon Recap: Our Pre-Pentecost Hinge Moment

Earlier this week, our church got the go-ahead from our insurers and our bishop to have more participation in the worship service, meaning we can now have others at the lectern as part of the worship service.  My pastor asked me if I wanted to preach on Sunday, and I said yes.  It's Pentecost, after all--the sermon practically preaches itself.

For the first part of my sermon, I talked about knowing Easter people and Christmas people, but no one says that Pentecost is their favorite church holiday.  I said that lately, the time between Easter and Pentecost has been speaking to me, with the disciples not being sure what to do with themselves, so they go back to doing what they had been doing before--witness the end of John, where the disciples go back to fishing.  I talked about the disciples hiding in a room before Pentecost--sound familiar?

I talked about the disciples as traumatized people--we tend to forget or underplay the trauma that they have experienced.  We know that traumatized people don't snap back immediately or automatically.  I talked about our current age as one of traumatized people and that we should be gentle with ourselves.

But the Holy Spirit doesn't come to leave us there.  The Holy Spirit makes it possible to go bigger.  I talked about what that would look like, in terms of the first believers:  going out 2 by 2 and bringing the good news, being part of the community that is open to the message, being the type of disciple that has resources to share, being part of the community that does the hard work of staying rooted and growing the seeds that the disciples plant before they move on.

I talked about the hinge moment where we find ourselves.  We've been through a huge trauma, and we shouldn't undercount that.  We have an enormous opportunity to reshape our world--and there's the danger that we'll go in the wrong direction.  I talked about God's dreams for us, that we're here not just winning our entrance into Heaven, that God announces the inbreaking Kingdom, right here and right now.  What would that look like as we move forward?

I finished with a sort of prayer, although I don't know that the congregation realized that I was praying:

Give us comfort as we cope with our collective trauma.

Give us a vision of the better world that is possible.

Give us the energy to begin what the vision requires.

Sustain us to see our vision to completion.

Protest in Pictures

In these past weeks of protest, here's my favorite picture:

That's Sue Tyler, my friend from the Create in Me retreat.  Last week-end, she held this sign at a silent protest in east Tennessee.

The artwork was created by a different Create in Me friend, Vonda Drees.  Sue and I met her at the 2016 Create in Me retreat, where Vonda introduced us to Copic markers.  Vonda left the retreat and went to her new job and the Grunewald Guild.  Through that organization, I've taken several online journaling classes with Vonda, and they've always been astonishing, in terms of what I've accomplished on a daily basis.

This picture is one of my favorites because Vonda created it in Washington state, posted it, and it inspired her son's sermon in Minnesota.  Then it went on to inspire Sue in Tennessee, and later in the day, me in Florida, across the continent from where it was first created and posted earlier in the day.

It's also one of my favorites because it was posted on Pentecost.  I love that we see the Holy Spirit speaking to us through art, moving across the continent through image.  I love this modern twist on Pentecost, that the Holy Spirit can move through Facebook posts and Instagram and other types of social media.

Trinity Sunday

If I had more time, I would look up the roots of Trinity Sunday.  Why does it come so soon after Pentecost?  Are we that threatened by the events of Pentecost that we need to insert a holiday that reminds that the Holy Spirit is part of a Triune God?

Still, here we are at Trinity Sunday.  This week, I started work on a sketch. 

Over 3 days, it became a meditation on Trinity.  I think of it as a Pentecost image too--what if tongues of flame didn't look like what we expected?  What if the tongues of flame were feathered?

This morning, I thought I didn't like the paleness of the colors, but I decided to leave it alone.  Let me sit with it a bit longer before I go rushing madly back in.

Wombs Hidden Away for Safe Keeping: Pentecost and the Feast Day of the Visitation

On May 31, the Church celebrates Mary's visit to her cousin Elizabeth.  This feast day celebrates the time that Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Both women are pregnant in miraculous ways: Mary hasn't had sex, and Elizabeth is beyond her fertile years. Yet both are pregnant. Elizabeth will give birth to John the Baptist, and Mary will give birth to Jesus.

This year, May 31 is also Pentecost Sunday.  Pentecost celebrates the day that the Holy Spirit comes to the first disciples.  In the Gospel of John, Jesus says that he must leave so that the Holy Spirit can come.  But in Luke, where we find the story of Mary's visit to Elizabeth, Elizabeth hears Mary's greeting, and she's filled with the Holy Spirit.

In these times of pandemic, I'm struck by other juxtapositions of both of these stories and our own contemporary history.  In the Pentecost story, we see the disciples sheltering in place, locked up in their rooms, unsure of what to do next.  I am familiar with that feeling.

Similarly, Mary and Elizabeth find themselves in strange circumstances, their lives upended by events that they couldn't have anticipated.  They, too, have been isolated.  I have spent the last two months trying to process the bizarre times in which we suddenly find ourselves.  I have felt that events have catapulted us into some new direction that we can't quite fathom yet.

In both stories, the humans involved find protection, solace, and support from their communities.  In our current time, we see that happening too, but in so many ways.  I've seen the Facebook posts from people sewing masks for others who couldn't get masks and couldn't sew.  I've seen people running errands for those who shouldn't.  I know that more of us are checking on each other than ever before, even as we have to be careful in terms of physical proximity.

Even the various protests erupting across the country can be painted as community coming together to care for each other.  Like many/most, I found the video of the police officer's murder of George Floyd horrifying.  I take comfort that we find it horrifying, and I hope that lasting change might come this time.

At the same time, I wonder why we have to do this over and over again, why we can't get to the place of lasting change.  I understand the rage that moves people to the streets.  That rage, too, is a kind of Holy Spirit fire, moving through people.

I also have a sense of the forces of evil in the world, forces that will see an opportunity to destroy community in these protests, marches, and riots.  I think of the Pentecost story, of Peter convincing the crowds that they were witnessing God at work, not drunken idiots.

I long for a Peter for our own time.  In the meantime, like Elizabeth and Mary, I will continue to incubate new possibilities in wombs hidden away for safe keeping, wombs that wait for the right moment to announce the presence of God in our midst.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, May 31, 2020:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Numbers 11:24-30

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 20:19-23

Gospel (Alt.): John 7:37-39



Ah, Pentecost, day of fire and wind and foreign languages.

Contemplate how much of Scripture circles around the breath of God. Reread Genesis--creation comes into being because God breathes it into life. Something similar happens in the Gospel of John. Jesus breathes on his disciples and transforms them. Likewise in Acts--that great rushing wind. For those of you in love with words and older translations, we often find the same word in these passages: Pneuma (yes, that root that creates our modern word of pneumonia).

The twenty-first century church, at least some branches of it, is in serious need of the breath of God. Perhaps you are too.

I often think of those first followers, who went out with the breath of God in them, and transformed the world. In the history of social movements, few have been as broadly successful as Christianity. My atheist friends would chime in that few have been as destructive--we both may be right. What an unlikely story: a small band of weirdly talented or distinctly ungifted men and women head out in pairs, carrying very little with them, and they survive enormous obstacles. In the process, they change the culture--and often, then, they move on. Think of the distances that they travelled--often on foot. Think of how hostile the culture was. You wouldn't be able to suspend your disbelief if you read it in a book.

The breath of God can transform us in the same way. Jesus transfers his powers to his disciples; we're given the power to do what he does. Now, if only we could believe it.

Maybe the key is to act as if you do believe it. You can do remarkable things, even if you don't feel like you can.

We're at a point in history that may prove to be a pivot.  Plagues and pandemics have often transformed societies in ways that wouldn't have been possible otherwise, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.  Many people are already considering how to use this moment in history for their own purposes.  How can we use this moment to create a society that's more in line with the vision that God has for us?

Maybe the thought of transformation exhausts you in the best of times.  Maybe the question of transformation in a time of plague threatens to overwhelm you.  Maybe you are already drowning.

So let's begin from a much simpler place.  In a time of a new disease that attacks the lungs, let's focus on our breathing.  In his new book, Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, researcher James Nestor points us to a study showing that breathing in for 5-6 seconds and breathing out for 5-6 seconds can help restore our sense of calm and well being.  Breathing more deeply can heal us in all sorts of ways, especially if we remember to focus on our breath more often.

As we focus on our breathing, let's add a powerful meditative element.  As you inhale, envision God breathing into you. Breathe deeply.  Receive the breath of God.  

As you exhale, imagine God's grace and goodness flowing into the world.  We've spent a lot of time thinking about the virus particles that can be expelled with a human breath.  It's time for a new vision.

It's good for humans to keep masks over our mouths during this time of pandemic.  We can't breathe on each other the way that Jesus breathes on the disciples in this week's Gospel.

But figuratively, the world needs to receive the breath of God.  The planet cries out for healing.  The stories of Pentecost show us ways to begin.

Memorial Day: Flooding Rain and Pentecost Poetry Project Video

When I think of this past Memorial Day week-end, what will I remember?  In some ways, it was a week-end like many other week-ends:  grilling, cooking, grading, writing, sketching, and sleeping a bit more than I can during the week.

In some ways, it was strange:  a grad school friend and I did a Facebook call.  It was like a Skype call, so in some ways, it wasn't strange.  But it did start to rain heavily while we were talking, and I noticed some rain dripping on the windowsill.  We haven't had water instrusion through that window since Hurricane Irma; in fact, that's the only time we've had water intrusion through that window.

By the end of yesterday afternoon, we had water intrusion through all the windows that occasionally let water in, which is about half of them.  In a way, I feel fortunate--we don't have consistent leaks, with damage easily contained.  Roof leaks would be more difficult for me to handle.  Fixing these kinds of leaks is a headache though.  It's so hard to know where the water comes in and how it travels.

It was the kind of afternoon where I was glad we didn't have plans.  We sat and watched the flooding creep ever closer to the house, but happily, the rains let up, and the water receded.  Still, in the past year, it's the second flooding rain event, and they weren't related to anything tropical.

But hopefully, as I think back over this week-end, I'll remember the Pentecost Poetry Project that brought me lots of joy.  I had been assembling small videos during my morning walks last week, videos that are part poem, part image, part theology.  Here's one that I didn't use in the larger project:

Yesterday, I put them all together.  It wasn't anything I'd ever done before, but Windows 10 comes with a video editor function that gave me all that I needed.  I loved thinking about how to order them, how to make them most effective, how to finish.  I loved remembering the walks I took, the inspiration that I felt.

On Sunday, which is Pentecost, I'll post the whole video here.  In the meantime, I'm thinking about a larger project.  Could I do something similar with other church festival days?  Could I do it without being repetetive?

Stay tuned!

Holy Spirit Poetry/Sermon Project

Last week, my pastor asked me if I wanted to do the message for Pentecost Sunday.  He's putting together some sort of video service which will be unlike the livestreaming that we usually do--that means that the message could be different from a traditional sermon.

I said yes, although I didn't really have a plan, and my videography skills aren't my strongest creative skills.  I thought about some traditional images:  fire and wind.  I could build a fire in our firepit or in the fireplace and film it.  Surely I could capture wind in a similar manner.  But as I've been walking through my neighborhood in the morning, I started to develop an alternate plan.  I had planned to record certain elements that have something to teach us about the Holy Spirit.

Tuesday morning I took my camera with me on my walk.  Happily, early in my walk, I realized I could film and talk at the same time.  My earlier plan had been to film and then figure out what to say and somehow splice the two together and then splice all the units together.

Later, I watched what I had created Tuesday morning, and I was pleased with it.  It's one of the rare moments of creativity where what I create is better than what I had hoped for--and it went in different directions than what I was thinking I would create.

My vignettes are more like poetry than anything else:  what does a trash pile have to say about the Holy Spirit?  Are we so busy looking for a burning bush that we miss the subtle shadings of the shrubbery?

When I first started this process, I thought I'd go to all sorts of locations.  Now I think I'll use what I've generated during these morning walks.

Let me see if I can post one of them here.  And then later, once I have them all put together, I'll write more about it and try to post it all.

Pentecost Pumpkins

As all the autumnal decorations go on sale, let's remember that they can make great supplies for Pentecost or any other time you need to create images of flames. 

Here's a pumpkin I made, a mix of Pentecost and Halloween. 

Note how autumnal leaves make great tongues of fire.

Early Pentecost Morning

I feel like I've fallen out of time, more so than usual.  I've been away at Synod Assembly, with a full-out worship service twice.  And now it's Sunday again--and Pentecost Sunday at that.

It's a strange time in the life of the nation to come to Pentecost again.  I am hollowed out and exhausted.  I've been hollowed out and exhausted before, of course.  But my low points rarely intersect with a national low point, the way they are now.  How does one resist this administration, with its contempt for what I thought were shared values?  How are we ever going to repair this shredded fabric of society?

Pentecost visions are more important than ever, aren't they?

The festival day of Pentecost reminds us that great things can happen when the Holy Spirit takes hold of a community. If we need a reminder of that, all we need to do is to look at the state of the church on Pentecost morning, and then think about the spread of Christianity in the decade after Pentecost.

And Christianity was spread by regular people--sure, there were some superstars like Paul. But Paul came and went and then regular people had to keep the vision alive.

They did. Pentecost both celebrates that fact and invites us to welcome the Holy Spirit in to our modern communities.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

God became incarnate to prepare humans to carry on the work of Kingdom creation. And Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our hollowed out spaces and to fill us with the fire to dream and the resources to bring our visions to life.