Holy Spirit

Beyond Fear

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — Beyond Fear John 20:19-23; Psalm 23

For 1,200 years, people have been walking the Camino de Santiago, the Way of St. James. It’s a network of trails that snake across Europe, leading to the Great Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain.  According to tradition, the Apostle James the Great (the son of Zebedee) was the first to take the gospel to Spain, traveling to the Iberian Peninsula on the frontier of the Roman Empire and sharing the good news of Jesus Christ. When James returned to Jerusalem, he ran afoul of King Herod Agrippa, who ordered the evangelist to be beheaded, making him the first of the apostles to be martyred. James’ followers collected his body and took it by boat to Spain, where it still lies entombed in the Great Cathedral.

In the Middle Ages, as the black death swept across Europe and the Moors swept across the Mediterranean, the church encouraged pilgrims to travel to Santiago as an act of devotion that was a safer alternative to Jerusalem. Some were even prescribed the journey as penance for sin. William Wey of Eton College in England made the pilgrimage in 1456.  In his account of his journey, William wrote, “Whoever has come on pilgrimage to the church of St. James, son of Zebedee, at any time, has one-third of all his sins remitted.” There must have been many people looking for absolution because William noted the diversity of the pilgrims: “They included English, Welsh, Irish, Normans, Bretons, and others.” Medieval pilgrims set out on foot from across the continent, some with little more than a pilgrim’s staff and the clothes on their backs. Along the way, they were tended by monastic hostels and refuges that provided food and a safe night’s lodging.

Nowadays, pilgrims walk the Way of St. James for many reasons. About 43% of people continue to walk for spiritual reasons, as an act of devotion, a time or prayer, or a rite of penance. Others, who may be spiritual but not religious, say they are seeking. A middle-aged man who is a self-confessed couch potato says he walked the Camino to find peace with the grief of his past. A newly graduated college student says that she walked for discernment, hoping she would find direction and purpose for her professional path. An overburdened youth counselor took a break from her practice because she needed to shed the non-stop needs of others and make time for herself. In June, Duane and I will embark on the pilgrim path that leads from Portugal to Santiago as an act of devotion, prayer, and spiritual renewal.

John’s Gospel tells us that James the Son of Zebedee was frightened. With his fellow apostles, he hid behind a locked door on Easter evening for fear of persecution. Mary Magdalene had returned early in the day with the amazing and joyous news that she had seen the risen Lord. God had broken the power of sin and death. But on Easter evening, Mary’s good news had not made a dent in the disciples’ despair. They feared arrest, torture, execution. They feared the cross.

Fear—and its friends worry and anxiety—are an essential part of being human. We need fear to galvanize us to take action, to make bold choices, and to prompt our personal growth. But when fear drives our bus, we can get into trouble. Fear, worry, and anxiety can keep us from getting a good night’s sleep, have a negative impact on our job performance, and undermine our relationships with colleagues, friends, and beloved ones. Fear can generate a host of unpleasant physical symptoms, too: muscle tension, headache, upset stomach, lightheadedness, diarrhea, and increased heart rate and respiration. Chronic fear and worry prompt our sympathetic nervous system to release stress hormones, raise our blood sugar, and boost our tri-glycerides. Unchecked fear can lead to chronic health problems, everything from irritable bowel syndrome to asthma and heart disease. For 57 million Americans, chronic fear takes the form of crippling anxiety that compromises their ability to live full and balanced lives.

To be human is to live with fear. That must be why God’s presence in the midst of our fear is one of the most persistent of God’s promises in scripture. When the aging, childless, patriarch Abraham cried out to God in fear that he would die and be forgotten, God answered, “Do not be afraid, I am your shield” (Gen. 15:1). When the Israelites feared that they would perish at the hands of their enemies in the wilderness, God promised, “Do not lose heart or be afraid or panic or be in dread, for it is the Lord who goes with you to fight for you and give you victory” (Deut. 20:1-4). When Joshua and the people prepared to cross over into the unknown land that God had given to them, God again encouraged them, “Do not fear or be dismayed.  It is the Lord who will be with you. He will not fail or forsake you” (Deut. 31:7-8). God kept those promises.  Abraham and Sarah gave birth to Isaac. The Israelites endured the wilderness with manna in the morning, quails at nightfall, and protection from fierce enemies. With God’s help, Joshua and the twelve tribes took possession of that land that flowed with milk and honey. Even today, as we face our fears, we are likely to keep them at bay with the promises of scripture. We pray with the words of the Psalmist, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”

Those fearful disciples found a remedy for their fear on Easter evening. Neither a locked door nor the overwhelming terror of persecution could keep Jesus out. There he was in their midst, bringing repeated words of peace and the assurance that he truly was with them, ready to share his wounds to make his point. The apostles’ fear transformed to joy with alleluias, tears of happiness, and words of praise filling that upper room.

What happened next has piqued the interest of Bible scholars ever since. Some call it the Little Pentecost. Like God in the Garden of Eden puffing the breath of life into Adam and Eve, Jesus breathed on his friends. As the Spirit of Jesus filled the disciples, they became a new creation. They found the courage to be sent as Jesus was sent—out into a world that might reject them, that might persecute them. James the Son of Zebedee found his thoughts turning to the edges of the empire, to the wilds of Iberia and the people who waited in fear for the assurance of God’s presence and love.

We all live with fear. This morning, we may even have some fears that are related to the “s” word—that’s right sabbatical. Elders and deacons may feel a little overwhelmed by impending new responsibilities. Church staff may feel worried about not having the boss around for direction or moral support. We may all feel worried about Sunday mornings—other voices in the pulpit. Men! They’ll have different styles of worship leadership—and who knows what songs we’ll be forced to sing. We may feel anxious that we won’t have our pastor to listen to our concerns, visit us when we are under the weather, or preside at a memorial service.

I’ll even confess some of my personal fears.  I worry that no one will come to church in my absence, or that you’ll all opt out of the special learning opportunities of this sabbatical time for the church. I worry about leaving our dog Gybi with family while we fly off to walk the Way of St. James. And what if in our trekking across Portugal and Spain, Duane or I are injured?  This sabbatical is an amazing opportunity for pastor and parish alike. But even wonderful opportunities can stir fear within us. Can’t they?

Perhaps we can find a remedy for our fears in the example of James the Son of Zebedee, who left his fear behind and went forth to the Roman frontier with good news that would transform Iberia, news that still inspires pilgrims to walk the Way of St. James today (at least 42% of us). We can remember that the Spirit of Jesus breathes in us, comforting and encouraging, inspiring and leading. We can move past our fears because Christ will be with us and in us, even closer than the beating of our own hearts. We have what it takes to face everything that the next fifteen weeks will bring our way because Jesus is with us.

I want to finish up my message with some words of assurance. I’ll be naming some situations that may arise in the coming weeks. Then you’ll respond with the words, “the Lord will be with us.” Are we ready?

When worship isn’t led exactly as we would like, or we are forced to sing a new hymn, the Lord will be with us.

When announcements don’t make it into the bulletin, or no one signs up for Coffee Hour, the Lord will be with us.

When we get out of our comfort zone to meet in small groups or retreat to Montreal or join a Sermon on the Trail, the Lord will be with us. 

When our muscles ache and our feet are sore from a long day of hiking, the Lord will be with us. 

When we take a wrong turn, and we miss our dog and our friends and our family and our church, the Lord will be with us.

In all this and more, who will be with us?  That’s right – the Lord! 

May we find the ability to move beyond all those fears, worries, and uncertainties in the sure and certain knowledge that the Lord is with us, his very Spirit breathes in us. We will survive sabbatical—we may even thrive—because the Lord will be with us.

Resources

Kristin John Largen. “Theological Perspective on John 20:19-33” in Feasting on the Gospels: John, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

E. Elizabeth Johnson. “Pastoral Perspective on John 20:19-33” in Feasting on the Gospels: John, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Susan Grove Eastman. “Exegetical Perspective on John 20:19-33” in Feasting on the Gospels: John, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Paul Simpson Duke. “Homiletical Perspective on John 20:19-33” in Feasting on the Gospels: John, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

James Johnston. “STEPS: Why People Walk the Camino de Santiago.” Accessed online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bzPmdAd0Oek&t=485s

–. Harvard Health Publications. “Anxiety and Physical Illness,” July 1, 2008. Accessed on-line at health.harvard.edu.

Jillian Reid. “Medieval pilgrim shell tokens & St James’ Way” in The Blog of the London Museum, April 24, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.londonmuseum.org.uk/blog/medieval-pilgrim-shell-tokens-and-st-james-way/

John 20:19-23

19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” 22 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
3     he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
    for his name’s sake.

4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
    I fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
6 Surely[e] goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    my whole life long.

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In the Power of the Spirit

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “In the Power of the Spirit” Acts 2:1-13

The Adirondack spring has pounced upon us. After months of grey skies and mixed precipitation, the ice is out, the earth has thawed, and for some of us, our thoughts turn to gardening. Here at the church, our Jubilee Gardeners are thinking about the fresh vegetables that we’ll grow for the Food Pantry this summer. Yesterday morning, six of us gathered at the Community Garden to prepare the church’s beds for planting. There were weeds to pull and compost to spread. There were pole bean towers to string and a snow pea trellis to set up. We even sowed a few cold-hardy seeds.

Fourteen years ago this month, we had the organizing meeting for our Jubilee Garden project. It started with a fall book group. We read Shane Claiborne’s inspiring first book Irresistible Revolution, which tells the compelling story of Shane’s community The Simple Way. Inspired by a stint as a volunteer in Calcutta with Mother Teresa, Shane decided to try life in a blighted neighborhood in Northeast Philadelphia, living among the poor and working at the grassroots to meet community needs. Shane challenges Christians to find an impossible dream, to consider how the Spirit may be calling them to come alongside hurting neighbors in ways that make a difference. We wondered how God wanted to use us right here in Saranac Lake. We prayed about it.

By the spring, several of us felt that the Spirit was calling us to garden. Jan and Ted Gaylord had learned about organic gardening while they served at Jubilee Partners, and others among us were avid home gardeners, ever on the quest for the elusive Adirondack tomato. Our timing was perfect. A new community garden was starting on Old Lake Colby Road, where we secured two big plots. Our mission would be to grow fresh vegetables and bright flowers for the hungry and the hungry-of-heart. Soon, we had dirt beneath our fingernails and plenty of blackfly bites. We built raised beds and filled them with a fertile mix of topsoil and composted chicken manure. We planted, watered, weeded, and waited for the harvest.

In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples were waiting and praying for the vision and power to launch an impossible dream. Then, on Pentecost, ten days after Jesus’ Ascension, came the rush of a violent wind. It filled the entire house where they waited. Tongues of holy fire flickered and danced among the people, resting upon each of them. As the Spirit filled them, they began to preach, all at once, in every language under the sun—speaking with boldness and joy about God’s deeds of awesome power. Before they knew it, the Spirit drove them out into the street, where pilgrims from every corner of the empire listened in bewilderment, wondering how a bunch of backwater Galileans could suddenly become such gifted cross-cultural communicators. Those who heard the Spirit-filled Apostles didn’t know whether to marvel or sneer, to shout “Alleluia!” or say, “Get lost!” But if we were to keep reading, past the end of our lection, we would see that the “Alleluias” won the day.  3,000 people were baptized and welcomed to the church.

When we hear the very familiar story of Pentecost, we like to focus on the sensational details: violent wind, tongues of flame, the sound of many languages, the astonishment of the crowd. But this year, I’ve been thinking less about the special effects and more about the disciples. Ten days earlier, they were anxious and visionless, waiting in Jerusalem to find out what was next. They hadn’t always excelled in their discipleship. They longed for greatness, expressed big doubts, and were generally cluelessness. They slept when they should have been praying. They ran away when the guards came to take Jesus into custody. Don’t forget Peter’s three denials. But when the Holy Spirit filled the disciples on Pentecost, they were galvanized in Christ’s purpose. On Pentecost, the disciples went from fearful failed followers to a dynamic force for good, propelled in God’s purpose by the power of the Holy Spirit.

In her book Sailboat Church: Helping Your Church Rethink Its Mission and Practice, former moderator of the General Assembly Joan Gray points out that the boat was the earliest symbol for the church. In the first century, there were two types of boats: rowboats and sailboats. Rowboats are driven by human power. Sailboats harness wind power. Joan Gray says that on Pentecost the Holy Spirit moved the disciples along as the wind moves a sailboat. The Spirit drew together a diverse group of men and women into a strong, unified community, capable of unexpected good. If the disciples had trusted in their own limited power to bring about God’s purpose, it would have been a recipe for failure; there would be no church. But with the Spirit’s help, great things could unfold.

Presbyterians tend to think that the Spirit doesn’t work with the bold force of Pentecost anymore, but Joan Gray says it does. The question facing every congregation is, “Will we row or will we sail?” If we row, we trust in our own strength, wisdom, and abilities to achieve our ministry. That’s a recipe for burnout and dwindling resources. I suspect that some of us, over the years, have known how that feels. But if we choose to be a sailboat church, if we trust that God’s Spirit can guide and empower us, then we find that we are able to do more than we ever could have dreamed. Pentecost begs the question, “Keep rowing or let the wind fill your sails?” I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather hoist the sail than man the oars.

What does sailboat ministry look like? I think our garden project is a good example. Fourteen years ago, the Holy Spirit took our prayer and discernment and launched us on a continuing adventure that has blessed us and our neighbors. A little like those who sneered at the disciples on Pentecost, not everyone thought our impossible dream was a good idea. In fact, when I approached the board of the Food Pantry, they said no one who comes to the pantry would eat our vegetables. Then, they told us that they wouldn’t distribute what we grew because they would just be throwing out a lot of rotting produce, week after week. If our impossible dream was going to happen, we would have to host our own free farm stand, outside the food pantry, on Saturday mornings. It was disappointing, but we didn’t let that dump the wind from our sails.

As we got underway, there were blessings that told us we were on the right path. It was a hot, sunny summer, and the harvest was wildly abundant. Those food pantry patrons loved the fresh produce. On most mornings, we ran out, and when we didn’t, folks at church on Sunday were eager to relieve us of our abundance. Some weeks, we even had extra to share at the DeChantal or Lake Flower Apartments. Hosting our own farm stand was the biggest blessing of all. We made new friends. Some came to the pantry week in and week out. They told us their stories. Others came in times of crisis. They told us their stories, too. All expressed appreciation for our care and concern, our willingness to meet them where they were at with the good news of fresh produce, God’s love, and an occasional fervent prayer.

Over the past fourteen years of gardening, the Spirit has continued to fill our sails in ways that we never could have imagined. We developed a close relationship with the Food Pantry, those same people who sneered at our impossible dream. In fact, a number of our members now serve on the board of directors. That growing bond found fresh expression as we welcomed the pantry to a beautiful new space in our building, where the number of people who are served has doubled. Beyond the Food Pantry, we’ve connected with local gardeners and commercial growers who sometimes contribute their own veggies to our efforts. The latest dynamic of our garden mission isn’t about the veg. It’s the flowers. Last summer, we sent an abundance of bouquets out into the community every Sunday to bless our homes and our neighbors. 

I’m not saying that the garden isn’t hard work. We’ve had aching backs. We’ve been bitten by bugs. We’ve struggled with slugs. But by the power of the Holy Spirit, we have been blessed and been a blessing, more than we ever could have imagined when we first dreamed our impossible dream.

Shane Claiborne, who wrote The Irresistible Revolution and inspired our gardening efforts, says that the Spirit is always calling Christians to new dreams. Beyond his community organizing in NE Philly, Shane has launched initiatives that address some of the most significant moral issues of our time: toxically partisan politics, gun violence, Christian nationalism, and the death penalty. If Shane were with us this Pentecost, he might ask us, “What’s next?” How does the Spirit continue to call us to come alongside hurting neighbors in ways that make a difference?

Come, Holy Spirit, come! Fill our sails, and send us forth in your purpose.

Resources:

Joan Gray. Sailboat Church: Helping Your Church Rethink Its Mission and Practice. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Shane Claiborne. The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. New York: Harper Collins, 2006.

Frank L. Crouch. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 24, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Amy G. Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 9, 2019. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Debra J. Mumford. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 2:1-21 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Acts 2:1-13

2When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

5Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

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A Time to Wait

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Time to Wait” Acts 1:1-11

for all the Moms out there

Waiting isn’t easy. Just ask any Mom. She waited through nine months of pregnancy. The first trimester brought big changes. Breasts tender. Taste and smell heightened. Early morning nausea. Hormone-induced mood swings, headaches, and even acne. Don’t forget the digestive challenges – bloating, gas, and constipation.

The second trimester was better. But, oh, the appetite! Eating for two or sending the spouse out for late-night ice cream and pickles. The leg cramps, stuffy nose, and heartburn kicked in. An ever-growing abdomen turned an innie bellybutton into an outie. Big ligaments in hips, groin, and abdomen stretched uncomfortably to accommodate the growing womb. The stretch marks appeared, no matter how much cocoa butter was applied.

The third trimester was the homestretch. The baby’s kicks felt like an internal tap dance. Sleep was hard to come by. Every restroom was a welcome pitstop. The wall of exhaustion followed even simple efforts, like walking the dog or shopping for groceries. Braxton Hicks contractions launched a torrent of worry—is this it? We won’t even go into the final week or the actual delivery. Suffice it to say that Moms can affirm the words of the late rocker Tom Petty, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father. Jesus didn’t even give his friends a timeline. He just told them to stay put and wait for God to take action.

I’m sure that the disciples didn’t like the prospect of waiting any more than a pregnant woman does. In the forty days since the resurrection, Jesus had been with his friends, interpreting the scriptures, and helping them to see his suffering and death as part of God’s ultimate plan for salvation.  Jesus’ friends had gotten accustomed to having the risen Lord around. Perhaps they even hoped he would stay forever. That’s why they asked, “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” They hoped that Jesus would use his holy power to rout the Romans and restore David’s Kingdom. Jesus put a damper on their hopes and ambition.  The only power the apostles would get was the holy power that the Spirit would bring. Until the Spirit’s arrival, they needed to stay put and wait – without him.

According to our reading, as Jesus ascended to the Father, the disciples stood around looking up. The Bible scholars like to say that the exaltation of Jesus’ ascension vindicates the humiliation of the crucifixion. But for the disciples, I suspect that watching their friend disappear felt just as frightening and uncomfortable as it was exhilarating and awe-inspiring. Returning to the upper room and waiting for an unspecified period of time for the next big thing may have made the disciples feel as restless and anxious as a Mom in her thirty-ninth week of pregnancy.

Of course, we don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did. To be human is to wait. There’s the incidental waiting of every day: for the microwave to finish cooking the popcorn, for the cashier to ring us through at the Grand Union, for the last night of frost so that we can plant the garden. And there is tougher waiting: for responses to our college applications, for our savings to reach that perfect point for retirement, for the doctor to call with test results. Then there’s existential waiting: We wait for the nations to beat their swords into plowshares; We wait for the world to wake up to the growing climate crisis; we wait (like the disciples) for the coming Kingdom, when we shall at last live into God’s perfect plan for creation. To live is to wait, even though we don’t like it very much, even though it can make us impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry.

We don’t like to hear that waiting is part of God’s plan. Scripture is filled with stories of folks forced to wait, not very patiently. Abram and Sarai were a couple of childless Arameans when God told them to head to Israel so that God could make a great nation of them. God didn’t tell them that they would both be old as dirt and good as dead by the time baby Isaac arrived. When God led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, the people had visions of soon settling in a land of milk and honey. No one told them it would take forty years to get there. David, who would become Israel’s greatest king, may have been anointed for leadership as a shepherd boy, but he would be a grizzled veteran of many battles before he would wear the crown. The Hebrew people had to wait through half a century of exile in Babylon. That’s why Isaiah had to remind them, “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall rise up on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk and not grow faint.”

If waiting is part of God’s plan, then it stands to reason that it must have a purpose. Maybe Abram and Sarai needed to be that old before they trusted God to provide. The Israelites needed forty years in the wilderness to learn those ten commandments and leave the ways of Egypt behind. David needed all those years of struggle and persecution to unite the tribes of Israel into a mighty nation. The exiles needed a long time-out from the Promised Land to understand the generosity of God and the goodness of a life lived in righteousness.

So, when the disciples were told to wait without Jesus for what God would do next, the most discerning among them may have thought, “Aha! There’s a reason for this.” If we were to continue to read in the Acts of the Apostles, we’d learn that the disciples followed Jesus’ instruction to return to Jerusalem. They headed to the upper room where they were staying. There they did a lot of praying, along with the women. They realized that, without Judas, they weren’t complete. They needed a twelfth disciple. After much debate and the casting of lots, they chose Mathias.

We can trust that there were other things that happened in those ten days of waiting. There were shared meals and the goodness of community. There was the telling of memories and the joy that came with remembering all that Jesus had said and done. They realized that without God’s will and work, they would never fill those big sandals, but they trusted that somehow God could be at work to make them more. By day ten, they had stopped being disciples and they had become something new. Something poised on the edge of action. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

On this Mother’s Day, the Moms among us can testify to both the challenges of those nine months of pregnancy and the importance of the waiting time. Yes, their bodies needed to change to prepare for the monumental task of giving birth. Yet those nine months were also filled with dreaming and planning. There was news to share, first with that inner circle of family and confidantes and then with others. There was work to do: a nursery to prepare, clothes to buy, little sweaters to knit, the huge supply of diapers to squirrel away. There were childbirth classes, lessons learned from their own mothers, and all the doctor’s visits. There was the deepening bond of marriage as the two who had been made one would soon become a family. There were prayers, many, many prayers. Somewhere along the way, those women stopped being whom they had always been. They changed; they transformed into something more. They became Moms. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

We don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did, but I think the convergence of Mother’s Day and Ascension Sunday can help us to see our waiting times in a new light. As we do, we just may feel a little less impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry. Yes, the waiting is the hardest part; yet, maybe we need to wait. Maybe we aren’t ready yet. There may be a lesson we have still to learn, a self-understanding that is yet to develop, a worldview that we cannot see, a God-view that is yet to be disclosed. One day, we’ll get it. We’ll trust more and grumble less, knowing that God is faithful. We’ll be transformed, even as we wait. We’ll grow—slowly, achingly, beautifully—into the people God created us to be. May it be so.

Resources

Nicole Harris. “Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week” in Parents, October 23, 2022. Accessed online at Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week (parents.com)

Kristi Walker. “What Does It Mean to Wait on the Lord?” in Christianity.com, June 24, 2022. Accessed online at What Does it Mean to Wait on the Lord? (christianity.com)

Frank L. Crouch. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 9, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

William Barclay. Acts 1:1-11 in The Acts of the Apostles (The New Daily Bible Study). Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Acts 1:1-11

1In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning 2until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. 4While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; 5for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”

6So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. 8But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 9When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. 11They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

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A Wider Welcome

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Wider Welcome” Acts 10:44-48

Judy Woodruff is a seasoned journalist with five decades of experience, reporting for NBC, CNN, and PBS. In the early days of her career during the Carter administration, Judy recalls dinner parties in Washington, with elected officials from both parties in attendance. There would be lively debate over policy and platforms, but there were also deep friendships and mutual concern that bridged divides, with conversations about school-aged kids, family traditions, beloved sports teams, and great books.

Woodruff says that spirit of respectful disagreement and abiding friendship has practically vanished in the nation’s capital. We might agree that the same is true for us. Nowadays, it feels like our nation and our communities are divided on almost every front, with bitter disagreement ready to explode at any moment, whether we are speaking of guns, the southern border, the books our children read, the state of our economy, or the war in Gaza. We don’t dare to have thoughtful, adult conversations about tough topics for fear that we will be attacked, shunned, or maligned. We don’t like it. In fact, 93% of us feel that our national divisions are a major problem, and we aren’t very optimistic about our ability to bridge those barriers.

Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles tells a story about the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome divisions and forge a new community. It begins with two dreams.

In his duty as a centurion of the Roman Empire, Cornelius had been deployed to Israel, an often-fractious outpost where the Jewish locals resented and sometimes rebelled against occupation. With the one-hundred-man cohort under his command, Cornelius had sailed across the Mediterranean to Caesarea Maritime, the Roman capital of Israel. They settled into imperial housing. They trained, drilled, and were sent out, from time to time, to put down civil unrest, like in Jerusalem at the Passover when Jewish dreams of freedom ran high. Cornelius had not only moved his men across the sea, he had also uprooted his whole family with their servants, slaves, and dependents. All now lived as strangers in a strange land.

But Cornelius, who was raised as a pagan, had fallen in love with the God of Israel. He studied the Torah and offered his prayers to God Almighty. He got to know local Jewish leaders and shared many acts of kindness and charity with the community. Then one day, as he was praying, Cornelius had a vision. An angel appeared to Cornelius, saying that God had heard his prayers and seen his good works. Cornelius must send immediately for the Apostle Peter, who had a message that needed to be heard.

We have all had times when we have been Cornelius. Work or school takes us to a new community. Uprooted in a place that does not feel like home, we make the best of it. We do our job or attend to our studies. We settle ourselves and our family. We try to make connections in the community. But underneath it all, we may feel like strangers in a strange land, unsure and a little homesick.

Meanwhile, Peter had his own dream. Resting and praying in the heat of the day at the home of his friend Simon the Tanner, Peter had also seen a vision, not once but three times. Something like a sheet was lowered by its four corners from the heavens. When Peter peeped inside, he was shocked to see unclean things: scuttling crabs and snapping lobsters, squealing pigs and hopping hares, awkward ostriches and clacking oysters. What really horrified Peter, though, was what God said next, “Get up Peter, kill and eat. What I have made clean, you must not call profane.” Eat all those disgusting, unclean foods that were forbidden by the Torah? Peter was still puzzling over his repeated vision when there was a knock on the door, the delegation from Cornelius arrived to take the apostle to meet the Roman centurion.

Peter began to wonder if his triple vision was really about food, or if God had something else in mind. Peter was not excited about the invitation to meet with the household of Cornelius; those foreign occupiers were about as appealing to Peter as Oysters Rockefeller. Peter’s travel to Caesarea must have been filled with big worries and huge doubts. He struggled with questions, “Didn’t the Torah and the tradition of the elders say that contact with Gentiles was unclean and undesirable? Was he really going to meet with the very worst kind of Gentile – a Roman occupier, the very people who had hung Jesus on a cross?”

We have all been like Peter. We feel pretty clear about what God expects of us. We don’t share Peter’s bias about kosher foods, but we do have opinions about the company we keep. We swing the door of welcome wide for family, friends, and those who seem like us. We’re not so sure about the town drunk or the mentally ill man who is waiting for the alien invasion. We’re not so sure about the colleague who tells racist jokes in the break room or the neighbor whose yard is posted with partisan placards. We might not want to open the door at all to the skinhead or the zealot.

When Peter finally arrived at the home of Cornelius, his apprehension soon vanished. The powerful Roman military officer fell to his knees, humbled that God had brought a human messenger to satisfy his spiritual hunger. As Peter helped his host to his feet and the two men shared their strange and unexpected dreams, Peter came to a new realization. Looking at Cornelius and the eager assembly of Gentile family and friends who had gathered to hear his message, Peter said, “I finally get it. God has shown me that I must not call any person profane or unclean.”

What happened next, was a little like God’s big stamp of approval for the whole barrier breaking encounter. As Peter shared the story of Jesus, his helping, healing ministry, his unselfish suffering on the cross, and his resurrection that broke the earthly powers of sin and death, something remarkable happened. Before Peter had even finished his sermon, the Holy Spirit arrived, falling on those uncircumcised Gentile outsiders. The house erupted with songs of praise and gifts or prayer, with the sound of ecstatic language and words of prophecy. It was a Gentile Pentecost that tore down every barrier that the Roman Empire, the people of Israel, or the Apostle Peter might want to build up.

It began with two dreams. But I wonder if we could add a third dream, one of our own. We won’t have a knock on the door this week, summoning us to Caesarea Maritime. Yet I trust that we will have moments of uncomfortable encounter, moments when we will find ourselves dealing with other people who stir our natural biases and preferences. It will be tempting, perhaps even second nature in this time of deep divisions, to set them straight, write them off, or turn our backs entirely. But what if those moments of aggravation and irritation that punctuate our days are actually moments of grace? Could we even imagine that those encounters are divinely appointed moments in which the Spirit can work to overcome differences and bridge divides?

Judy Woodruff, the seasoned journalist whom I mentioned at the start of my message, is in the middle of a two-year project that she calls “America at the Crossroads.” Her goal is to meet with and listen to as many Americans as she can, to try to understand why we’re so divided. In the first eleven months of her reporting, she visited fourteen states and put together twenty-one reports. She’s still dismayed about our divides, but she sees signs of hope where community members overcome their differences to work together to address local needs.

It reminds me of our local ecumenical council. As congregations, we have some big differences. We can’t agree on whether to take the Bible literally or to read it through the lens of scholarship and social historic research. We can’t agree on the sort of music we should play on Sunday mornings—pipe organ or praise band? We can’t agree on how we pray—liturgy, the words of the pastor, or the ecstatic sound of tongues? We can’t even agree on whether or not women can actually be pastors. But if you present us with a community concern, like hunger or homelessness, the Spirit prompts us to set aside our differences and get busy for the common good, launching the Food Pantry and Grace Pantry, the Community Lunchbox and Samaritan House.

So, if Peter could move past his natural bias to welcome Cornelius, if local churches can overlook our differences to meet human need, then maybe there is hope for our nation yet. It can begin with us. The next time we want to turn away from those whose beliefs and practices are unlike our own, we can remember that they aren’t necessarily evil. It just might be that our discomfort stems from the stretching of our preconceived notions and natural bias. We can dare to remember that God’s welcome is always wider than we imagine. God may be calling us to try something new, to welcome someone new, to build a world where the words “us and them” are heard less, and the words “we and us” are heard more.

We may not be able to singlehandedly overcome America’s divisions, but we can trust that the Holy Spirit can. May we live into the Spirit’s leading and dare to practice a wider welcome.

Resources:

Judy Woodruff. “This is what political division looks like in the U.S. right now” in PBS News Hour, Dec. 19, 2023. Accessed online at  This is what political division looks like in the U.S. right now | PBS NewsHour

Sara Machi. Nine in ten Americans say overcoming divisiveness is now more important than ever before in IPSOS, April 27, 2021. Accessed online at Nine in ten Americans say overcoming divisiveness is now more important than ever before | Ipsos

Richard Jensen. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 17, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jacob Myers. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 13, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jerusha Matson Neal. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 9, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Acts 10:44-48

44While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. 45The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, 46for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, 47“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” 48So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited him to stay for several days.

“Baptism of Cornelius” by Francesco Trevisani, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Applesauce

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Applesauce” by Ted Kooser

I liked how the starry blue lid

of that saucepan lifted and puffed,

then settled back on a thin

hotpad of steam, and the way

her kitchen filled with the warm,

wet breath of apples, as if all

the apples were talking at once,

as if they’d come cold and sour

from chores in the orchard,

and were trying to shoulder in

close to the fire. She was too busy

to put in her two cents’ worth

talking to apples. Squeezing

her dentures with wrinkly lips,

she had to jingle and stack

the bright brass coins of the lids

and thoughtfully count out

the red rubber rings, then hold

each jar, to see if it was clean,

to a window that looked out

through her back yard into Iowa.

And with every third or fourth jar

she wiped steam from her glasses,

using the hem of her apron,

printed with tiny red sailboats

that dipped along with leaf-green

banners snapping, under puffs

or pale applesauce clouds

scented with cinnamon and cloves,

the only boats under sail

for at least two thousand miles.

in Ted Kooser, Delights and Shadows, Port Townsend: Copper Canyon Press, 2004.

Ted Kooser is a poet, editor, publisher, and winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. He depicts everyday images from rural life that serve as extended metaphors for the human condition. Kooser taught high school English before pursuing a career in insurance. He wrote for an hour and a half before work every morning. By the time he retired, he had published seven books of poetry. Poet Edward Hirsch once wrote, “There is a sense of quiet amazement at the core of all Kooser’s work.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Sighs Too Deep for Words

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Sighs Too Deep for Words” Romans 8:26-39

Monica has given up on praying. She’s a single Mom with two young children. She works two jobs to try to cover the bills. She tends to little ones, including her own, at a local daycare during the week. She minds the register at the Quikmart on the weekends. Her ex plays games with his child support payments, so she is almost always on the verge of a financial crisis. Monica has prayed for better work. She has prayed that her ex would change. She has prayed that the landlord will be patient and that her children won’t know how stressed and worried she truly is. Monica believes in God. She just isn’t sure that God believes in her.

Fred isn’t sure what to pray for or how to pray these days. He lost his longtime job when the boss caught him drinking again. Then last month, he got pulled over for a DWI—and it wasn’t the first. The judge ruled that Fred could either spend some time in jail or try a residential treatment program for his alcoholism. It isn’t as if Fred hasn’t tried to quit drinking before. He has even had a few stretches of sobriety, but he always ends up right back where he started, defeated, ashamed, and drinking. His wife has had it and his friends are worried.

Lori and Phil used to pray together, but that was before Lori’s parents moved in. When Lori’s Dad broke his hip, the social worker at the hospital said that the two could no longer live on their own.  Her Mom has Alzheimer’s disease. Her once sunny disposition is now often angry and confused. Lori left work to care for her parents. Each week brings a new round of doctor visits and healthcare expenses.  Not long ago, her Mom wandered off while working in the garden and the police brought her home. Lori and Phil feel like they are failing as caregivers. They know things will only get worse, and they are too tired and overwhelmed to even know what to pray for.

We all have times when we feel that we are clean out of prayers. We have worried God for years about the same concern. We get overwhelmed by circumstances beyond our control. We are not our better selves and the burden of our bad behavior feels like a wedge between us and the holy. We wonder if God hears us. We question if God cares about us. We fear that God doesn’t love us.

Paul’s letter to the church in Rome suggests that those first Christians in the imperial city also found it hard to pray. We know that the Roman church found a start in the Jewish community there. The origin of the Jewish colony at Rome dated to the year 63 BCE, when General Pompei, after the capture of Jerusalem, brought back a large number of prisoners of war who were sold as slaves. Those who earned their freedom lived in the poorest quarters of the city where they served as peddlers, shopkeepers, domestic workers, and tradespeople. We know that when Christian teachers came to Rome, it split the Jewish community into two camps: traditionalists and those who believed that Jesus is Lord. The conflict between the two parties was so bitter that in the year 49 CE, Emperor Claudius expelled the Jews from the city, just to keep the peace.

The circumstance of the Christian community certainly needed prayer: exile, poverty, infighting, and imperial persecution. Yet the Roman Christians, perhaps worn out and hopeless, struggled to pray. Paul, in the verses leading up to today’s reading, describes the Romans as groaning, as if with the terrible birth pangs of a woman in labor, as they waited, short on hope and long on fear, for the coming of God’s Kingdom.

The Apostle Paul assured his friends that even when they could not find the words to pray, God knew their circumstance. The Holy Spirit, whom Jesus had promised would be their advocate and comforter, was at work within them. With sighs too deep for words, the Spirit interceded, bridging the gap between heaven and earth, even when they could not. God knew and God cared. It might have felt impossible for them to imagine, but all things would work together for their good.

When our spiritual ancestor John Calvin read Paul’s words to the church in Rome, he made the connection between the suffering of the Roman Christians and the suffering of Christ. In the neighborly and imperial persecution that the Romans daily endured, they knew something of the experience of Jesus. They personally identified with a Savior who was condemned by powerful enemies and persecuted even to the point of death on the cross. As they identified with Christ in his suffering, Jesus was with them in theirs.

Calvin wrote, “There is then no reason for anyone to complain that the bearing of their cross is beyond their own strength, since we are sustained by a celestial power. . .. The Spirit takes on himself a part of the burden, by which our weakness is oppressed; so that he not only helps and [sustains] us, but lifts us up; as though he went under the burden with us.” Far from being separated from God, the Roman church was united with Christ, who, by the power of the Holy Spirit, shouldered their burdens with them and for them.

I’m sure that Paul’s words sounded every bit as comforting and reassuring to the church in Rome as they do to us. In all our times of careworn sorrow, in all our places of overwhelming need, in all our frailty and failure, we are not alone. The Spirit is here, praying within us. Jesus is alongside us, bearing the load.

Paul assures us this morning that nothing can separate us from the love of God, a love that was most fully expressed in the suffering of Christ. Not hardship or distress or persecution; not famine or indigence or peril or sword. Not single parenthood or low-paying jobs. Not deadbeat dads or having more month than money. Not alcohol or meth or opiates. Not lost jobs or strained marriages. Not DWIs or court-mandated rehab. Not growing years and declining health. Not broken hips or Alzheimer’s. Not the mounting costs of doctors or the inadequacy of senior care in the Adirondacks. Nothing. That’s right nothing can separate us from the love of God. In all these things, in all these everyday challenges that can leave us feeling at a loss for words, at a loss for prayer, we are more than conquerors through Jesus, whose Spirit prays within us. Thanks be to God.

I like to think that Paul’s words encouraged the people in Rome. In Paul’s reassurance of the work of the Holy Spirit and the love of God, their groans became language.  The Romans found the courage to pray for themselves and pray for one another. How else could the Roman church transform within a few centuries from a frightened and persecuted sect of Judaism to the most powerful religious center in the empire?

As we go forth into this week, we will be certain to meet others who do not have the wherewithal to pray. They are stressed-out parents and over-worked professionals. They struggle with addiction or mental illness. They just got a tough diagnosis. They are reeling with grief. They feel alone and separated from God.  Perhaps this morning, we could take our leading from the Holy Spirit. We could pray with them and for them, even if we simply draw near with the love of Christ and our sighs too deep for words. May it be so.

Resources

Anna Bowden. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 30, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Israel Kumundzandu. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 30, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 26, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

George Edmundson. “The Church in Rome in the First Century,” Lecture 1 of The Bampton Lectures, Oxford University. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 2013.

John Calvin. Commentary on Romans. Accessed online at https://biblehub.com/commentaries/calvin/.

Romans 8:26-39

26Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. 28We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

29For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. 30And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.

31What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? 32He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? 33Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. 34Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. 35Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? 36As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” 37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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Many Gifts

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Many Gifts” 1 Cor. 12:4-13

“Doesn’t it sound just like angel voices?” Selena shouted above the sound of the praise band. The opening song had been going on for about fifteen minutes when I noticed that the language emerging from the mouths of those who worshipped around me bore little resemblance to the lyrics projected on the screen at the front of the church. I wasn’t sure that “angel voices” would be my first choice to describe what I was hearing. A few minutes later, a woman a couple of rows in front of me slumped to the floor in an ecstasy of joy and was gently carted away by the ushers. No one seemed concerned, so I just kept singing. When the music finally faded amid cries of “Thank you, Jesus” and “Alleluia,” I sat down, questioning my choice to worship with my Pentecostal friend.

I don’t remember a word of the sermon preached that morning, but I do remember the Prayers of the People. Pastor Mike, who did double duty as preacher and bass player in the worship band, cast an appraising eye over the congregation and asked if anyone needed prayer. I instinctively avoided all eye contact and tried to make myself as small as possible, but a moment later I sensed someone looming over me. “Sister, the Lord wants us to pray for you.” How do you say “no” to that? Pastor Mike and Selena shepherded me to the front of the storefront church where I was quickly surrounded by a bevy of prayer partners who laid their hands on me and began to speak in other languages. My silent prayers began with something like, “Lord, let this be over soon.”

I can’t say how long they prayed for me, but at some point, I began to feel less anxious and maybe even a little happy. In fact, it was as if a little fountain of joy began to bubble inside me, a giddiness that welled up with giggles and perhaps a few tears. With their work done, my prayer partners moved on to their next victim while I hurried back to my folding chair. All that joy should have come with a warning label, “Do not operate heavy machinery while under the influence” because I got hopelessly lost on the way home, driving the streets of the city with a smile on my face and not a care in the world.

Paul’s church in Corinth was experiencing a surge of Pentecostal gifts. The Holy Spirit, first poured out upon the disciples at Pentecost, was at work among the Corinthians. Indeed, behind the words of today’s epistle reading was a dispute about spiritual gifts.  Some worshipers had been exhibiting gifts for ecstatic language and prophetic utterance that they believed entitled them to a special place of privilege in the congregation.  The division over spiritual gifts must have been significant, because Chloe’s people had written Paul a letter about it and sent a delegation to Paul in Ephesus, hoping that he would resolve their dispute and heal their divide. 

Paul responded to the crisis in his Corinthian flock by affirming the work of the Holy Spirit there.  He named the spiritual gifts that he had seen in abundance: wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, discernment, ecstatic language, and the interpretation of those ecstatic prayers.  Paul acknowledged that the Spirit of Jesus was still at work in the faithful people of Corinth in many gifts, all necessary, all valuable for the health of the church, the body of Christ.

Paul wrote that the Holy Spirit is at work in all people, activating gifts in each of us.  There is no room for hierarchy or privilege in the Spirit’s work. The Greek word for gifts, charismata, is derived from charis, which means grace.  So, spiritual gifts are a way that God’s grace continues to reach out to the world.  God’s grace abounds when faithful people bless their neighbors with their God-given abilities. Paul also wrote that, although our Spiritual gifts are individually given, they are meant to be beneficial to all, to serve the “common good.”  When that happens, a remarkable community is forged.  It’s a place where every manmade divide is overcome.  All those false and artificial dichotomies of male/female, slave/free, Jew/Gentile, rich/poor, Pentecostal/Presbyterian, legal/illegal, black/white are transcended.  I like to think that Paul’s inspired epistle bridged the Corinthian divides and healed the church.

We can affirm that the Spirit is still at work in the church today. In teaching young people about the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I have a favorite exercise that I like to share. I give each youth a piece of 8 ½’ x 11” paper and ask them to write their names in the middle.  Next, we place our papers on a couple of long tables, and I parcel out big, bright magic markers.  Then, I invite the kids to write on one another’s papers the spiritual gifts that they notice in one another. At first, we stand around, looking uncomfortable.  But then someone will feel brave enough to record a spiritual gift, like kindness.  Soon someone else follows suit, writing things like great sense of humor or hard working or super smart.  Before we know it, we are rushing around the tables in a beautiful tumble of noticing and naming, eager to share what we see is special and God-given about our friends. Afterwards, as we collect our papers, we read what everyone had to say and we feel affirmed, sensing that God is at work in us in ways that are a blessing to all. 

Jesus continues to send the Spirit to equip us for his purpose.  It might alarm us to imagine the Spirit resting like tongues of fire among us, inspiring us to sing in angel voices, or causing us to swoon in a spiritual ecstasy, or propelling us to the front of the sanctuary for the laying on of hands.  But the whole point of Pentecost is that each of us is uniquely gifted, not for our personal glory but for the common good.  When we embody the gifts of the Spirit, we become Jesus for the world around us and his ministry continues to unfold in ways that bring healing, blessing, and miracles of new life.  It takes all of us, committed to using our gifts to the best of our ability, to truly embody the fullness of Christ for our neighbors.

In his letters to Rome and Ephesus, Paul would expand his catalog of the gifts of the Spirit to include ministry, teaching, preaching, generosity, leadership, compassion, evangelism, pastoring, and training.  For this congregation, we might have to expand Paul’s lists of spiritual gifts further to include some of the special qualities that we have here in abundance, abilities that are a blessing to all like music, helping, service, prayer, gardening, creativity, good cooking, handiness, financial oversight, and warm hospitality.  What are the particular gifts that the Spirit has given to you, gifts that Jesus would have you use to bless your neighbors? Write those on your heart and resolve to go forth and look for ways to share those gifts.

And perhaps this morning we could learn a lesson from our youth.  We could dare to affirm the spiritual gifts of one another.  Take a look at your neighbors in the pews this morning.  What are their gifts?  How have they been a blessing?  Take a moment to notice and to silently name.  I won’t be handing out sheets of paper and bright markers to record those gifts, but later today or this week, let those people know the gifts you perceive.  Perhaps you will visit with them in Coffee Hour, or pick up the phone and give them a call, dash off a text message or send them a note.  Let’s be sure to do that.

At the start of this message, I was last sighted driving the streets of Medford, Oregon with a smile on my face and not a care in the world. My joy hangover faded as the week wore on. The following Saturday evening, when Selena called, eager to take me back to her storefront Pentecostal church, I declined the invitation. I had a fresh understanding of the power and diversity of the Holy Spirit’s work, but I was hopelessly Presbyterian. No amount of angel voices or the laying on of hands could change that. Come Sunday morning, it sure felt good to settle back into my usual pew and to appreciate the prolific, if more subtle, gifts of the Spirit that abounded among my Presbyterian friends and blessed us all. Amen.

Resources:

Brian Peterson. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, May 11, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on 1 Cor. 12:3-13” in Preaching This Week, June 4, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

1 Cor. 12:4-13

4 Now there are varieties of gifts but the same Spirit, 5 and there are varieties of services but the same Lord, 6 and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. 7 To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. 8 To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, 9 to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, 10 to another the working of powerful deeds, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. 11 All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses. 12 For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. 13 For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

The Spirit of Truth

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Spirit of Truth” John 14:15-21

Mother’s Day became a national holiday in 1914 after decades of advocacy and letter writing by West Virginian Anna Jarvis. Anna wanted to honor the unsung love and hard work of mothers everywhere. She was especially inspired by her own mother Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis, a lifelong advocate for peace, healthcare, and compassion for vulnerable people.

Ann Maria had eleven children, but only four lived to adulthood. The others died of communicable diseases, like typhoid and scarlet fever, that were prevalent in her Appalachian homeland. In the mid-1850s, Ann Maria organized Mother’s Day Work Clubs to combat the unsanitary living conditions that bred disease. When the Civil War broke out, her community straddled the border of North and South, with local families supporting both the Union and Confederate causes. When solders at a nearby prisoner of war camp began to die from the same diseases that had taken the lives of her children, Jarvis and her volunteers took action. Work parties were organized to address the unsanitary conditions and women were urged to care for all prisoners, regardless of their national sympathies. After the war, Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis’s work turned to peacemaking as she organized mothers of former Union and Confederate soldiers to celebrate “Mothers’ Friendship Day” to mollify ongoing Union-Confederate rivalries.

After Ann Maria’s death in 1907, her daughter Anna organized a campaign to establish a national day to honor mothers, like her own.  She urged supporters to wear a white carnation (her mother’s favorite flower), dine with family, take their mothers to church, or write letters to their mothers. Anna launched the first Mother’s Day celebration on May 10, 1908 at the St. Andrew’s Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, WV.  Within a few short years, many churches, towns, and even states had started celebrating Mother’s Day. Six years later, President Wilson signed a proclamation, establishing the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day forever.

When it comes to God, we often refer to God as Father (like Jesus did) and we also refer to Jesus as the Son.  Some people have long argued that the third member of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, is feminine.  Indeed, faithful people have been debating the question of the gender of the Holy Spirit for eons.

Our Jewish ancestors in the faith used feminine language for the Spirit. The wind from God that hovered over the waters of chaos in creation—Ruach in Hebrew—is definitely feminine. So is the Spirit of Wisdom—Ruach Khodesh. She is described in Proverbs 3, standing in the marketplace and calling us to trust in the Lord with all our heart and lean not on our own understanding. Likewise, the Shekinah, the glory and presence of God that was seen in the Tabernacle and the Temple, is feminine.

The jury is out on whether Jesus characterized the Spirit as having gender. He sometimes used the male term Parakletos – meaning Advocate or Counselor – to describe the Spirit as he did in today’s scripture reading.  But Jesus more often used the term Pneuma for Spirit, which is gender-neutral.

The earliest churches, the Eastern Orthodox and Syriac, taught that the Spirit is feminine. Early church fathers like Theophilus of Antioch and Irenaeus led that charge. The feminine understanding of the Spirit persists in those branches of Christianity today.

It wasn’t until relatively late, with the emergence of the Roman church, that the Holy Spirit became in their understanding, officially male, perhaps coinciding with the movement to limit the leadership of women as evangelists and pastors. The question seemed settled for the western church until the Reformation when our cousins in the Moravian Brethren, led by Count von Zinzendorf, reasserted the principle that the Spirit was decidedly feminine.

The debate rages on today. That titan of twentieth century biblical studies Jürgen Moltmann argued for the feminine Spirit. Messianic Jews, so well-grounded in the Hebrew scriptures, see the Spirit as their Jewish ancestors did—feminine. Our Presbyterian confessions use plenty of male language for that third person of the Trinity, yet our seminaries are always careful to point out the differing opinions of scripture and tradition.  Even Vatican II couldn’t shift the Catholics away from their masculine understanding of the Spirit.  And if you read William P. Young’s bestseller The Shack, or watched the blockbuster film version of the book, then you would have seen the Holy Spirit portrayed as a semi-transparent Asian woman named Sarayu, a Hindu name meaning refreshing wind. Lord, have mercy. What do you think about the Holy Spirit?

In our reading from John’s gospel, Jesus promised his friends that although he would soon be leaving them, he would send the Holy Spirit to abide with them always. It was the night of the Last Supper. Feet had been washed, the Passover supper dishes had been cleared away, and Judas had departed to betray his friend. Jesus shared a final discourse, speaking important words to help the disciples face the crisis that would soon be upon them. We, who know what it is like to lose a beloved parent or mentor or friend, can imagine the distress and worry that gripped Jesus’ listeners as they imagined a world without him in their midst.

Jesus assured his friends that they would not be orphaned. Another Advocate – the Holy Spirit – would come to lead them in understanding, obedience, and love. The Spirit would be the love and wisdom of Jesus that dwelled with them, helping them to obey his command to love God and one another. I would imagine that Jesus’ words sounded both consoling and puzzling to disciples who still struggled to understand that the Messiah would soon die.

In two weeks on Pentecost Sunday, we’ll gather before worship in the Great Hall to celebrate the arrival of the Holy Spirit. We’ll wear red and brandish our dry and brittle palms, left over from Palm Sunday. As our Pentecost fire consumes the palms, we’ll imagine the transformation of the disciples.  Then we’ll process with singing into the sanctuary. It’s our Presbyterian nod to the Spirit, well-orchestrated and conducted decently and in order.

As Presbyterians, the Spirit may be our least-appreciated member of the Trinity. One Sunday while I was a seminarian, I was attending a Presbyterian church on the southside of Chicago that was experiencing an outpouring of the Spirit. I was intrigued to see what might transpire in worship until a young woman stood up in the middle of a good sermon and began to prophesy. Her eyes rolled back. She uttered strange words in a harsh voice and spoke in incomprehensible tongues until she fell over in the pew. I wasn’t sure if what I saw was the Spirit or mental illness. It was deeply uncomfortable, eerie, and puzzling. I suspect that the first disciples were equally ill-at-ease with this promise of a mysterious advocate that would come to them and live in them. Perhaps we share some of that discomfort this morning.

Jaime Clark-Soles, a New Testament scholar at the Perkins School of Theology, reminds us that Jesus’s words to his disciples regarding the coming Spirit were intended to be deeply pastoral and consoling—perhaps even a little bit mothering. She points out that Jesus calls the Spirit “another” Advocate.  Implied in this statement is the fact that Jesus is the first Advocate, so filled with love for us that he was willing to suffer death to reconcile us to God.  Because the Spirit is another Advocate, we can trust that the Spirit also comes with the love of Jesus, with gifts of healing and peace, forgiveness and mercy.  Because the Spirit transcends the limits of time and physicality, the Spirit grants us the same advantages that it granted to those first disciples. They were able to live and learn from Jesus first hand. We, by the power of the Holy Spirit, are able to hear and know the will and the way of Christ, here and now.

Perhaps on this Mothers’ Day, some of our Presbyterian discomfort with the Holy Spirit can be bridged if we embrace the feminine. I’m with Jesus; I think God and the Holy Spirit are beyond gender.  But I also think the Holy Spirit is a lot like a good mother.  The disciples probably would have felt a lot less worried about this coming Spirit if their thoughts turned to their own mothers or to other women of their day who were a lot like Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis, the inspiration for our first Mother’s Day.

We, too, can feel a little more at home with the Holy Spirit if we remember the love not only of Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis but also of the exceptional mothers that we have known.  They have deeply loved their vulnerable children. They have worked for the health and wholeness of their local communities. They have reached out across social and political divides to simply help and heal and care. They have sought the peace and reconciliation of people alienated and estranged from one another. In the good mothering that we have known from our own mothers, grandmothers, big sisters, and those who have been like mothers to us, there is a taste of the Spirit’s work to bring blessing to our lives. Thank you, Jesus.

Maybe the Holy Spirit isn’t so scary after all. Happy Mother’s Day, my friends, Amen.

Resources:

Craig R. Koester. “Commentary on John 14:15-21” in Preaching This Week, May 17, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Samuel Cruz. “Commentary on John 14:15-21” in Preaching This Week, May 21, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Jaime Clark-Soles. “Commentary on John 14:15-21” in Preaching This Week, May 27, 2008. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Amanda Onion. “Mother’s Day 2023” in History, April 29, 2011. Accessed online at https://www.history.com/topics/holidays/mothers-day

Heidi Stonehill. “The Forgotten History of Mother’s Day” in The Old Farmer’s Almanac, May 4, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.almanac.com/content/history-mothers-day

John 14:15-21

15”If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17This 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.

18”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. 19In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 20On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. 21They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

The inspiration for the first Mother’s Day Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis.

By Unknown author – http://explorepahistory.com/displayimage.php?imgId=1-2-1593, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=40096292

Passage

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Passage” by Denise Levertov

The spirit that walked upon the face of the waters
walks the meadow of long grass;
green shines to silver where the spirit passes.

Wind from the compass points, sun at meridian,
these are forms the spirit enters,
breath, ruach, light that is witness and by which we witness.

The grasses numberless, bowing and rising, silently
cry hosanna as the spirit
moves them and moves burnishing

over and again upon mountain pastures
a day of spring, a needle’s eye
space and time are passing through like a swathe of silk.

in Oblique Prayers, New Castle upon Tyne: Bloodaxe Books, 1986, p. 80.

When British-American poet Denise Levertov was five years old, she declared she would be a writer. At the age of 12, she sent some of her poems to T. S. Eliot, who replied with a two-page letter of encouragement. Her father Paul Levertov was a Russian Hasidic Jew who taught at the University of Leipzig. During the First World War, he was held under house arrest as an enemy alien by virtue of his ethnicity. After emigrating to the UK, he converted to Christianity and became an Anglican priest. Denise said, “My father’s Hasidic ancestry, his being steeped in Jewish and Christian scholarship and mysticism, his fervor and eloquence as a preacher, were factors built into my cells.” She was described by the New York Times as, “the most subtly skillful poet of her generation, the most profound, the most modest, the most moving.” She wrote and published twenty-four books of poetry.

Photo by Pok Rie on Pexels.com

On Each of Us

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “On Each of Us” Acts 2:1-13

Anyone who has lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time can affirm how hungry we become for the sound of our own language.  My classmates and I had been living in Switzerland for about three months when culture shock set in. We were exhausted by trying to decipher the nearly incomprehensible accents of Swiss-German.  We were sick of the mockery of Swiss students, who thought we were all cowboys, Madonna, or surfer dudes.  We had had more than our fill of sausages, Smurfs, mopeds, bidets, smelly cheese, and toilets with observation platforms.

Then one day, my friends and I were wandering through a labyrinth of displays at a cultural expo when we heard something that made our hearts beat a little faster: the familiar twang of country music.  With ears tuned to that beacon, we zeroed in on the source: a booth where women were speaking English, not the clipped rhythm of British English, not the thick brogue of the Scots, not the lilt of the Irish, but real American English.  It felt like home: warm, welcoming, and safe.

On that first Pentecost, there were devout Jews living in Jerusalem from every nation under heaven, from North Africa to Mesopotamia to Rome.  I suspect that those who had been sojourning for a long time were hungry for the sound of their mother tongue.  They were strangers in a strange land, and no one let them forget it.  They were weary of the overweening pride of the priests in the Temple and shocked by the exorbitant price of lodging.  They were missing the tastes of home and thoroughly sick of falafel. 

Then, as they were walking to morning prayer, came the rush of a violent wind, followed by a sound that was music to their ears. For each one heard in his or her own language the story of God’s great deeds of power and the truth of God’s immeasurable love for them, the love revealed in Jesus.  In that foreign city, surrounded by a sea of strange people and foreign languages, each heard the language they most needed to hear.  It must have felt like home: warm, welcoming, and safe.

When we think about Pentecost, we tend to focus on the disciples.  We remember Peter’s powerful proclamation that inspired 3,000 people to make the choice for Jesus. We imagine Philip finding the courage and vision to take the good news and go to the Samaritans and that Ethiopian eunuch.  We consider James, who stayed put in Jerusalem and thanklessly worked, year after year, to teach the Jewish people the gospel of Jesus until his enemies put him to the sword.  When the Spirit came with rushing wind and tongues of flame, it empowered those disciples to do extraordinary, heroic, and miraculous deeds in service to the Kingdom of God.

Yet a closer reading of the Pentecost story reminds us that 120 followers of Jesus were gathered together in that place when that wind from God blew and the flames danced above their heads.  There were twelve disciples.  Another seven men were present who would become the first deacons.  There were the largely unnamed women who provided for Jesus, including Mary Magdalene, Susannah, and Joanna.  There were Jesus’ brothers and mother.  Even if we are generous with the math, that leaves about ninety other people who were there in that Upper Room at Pentecost—ninety people, whom we’ve never heard of, were filled with the Spirit at Pentecost.  We don’t know their stories.

Back at that cultural expo in the Basel, Switzerland of my college days, we discovered that those speakers of our mother tongue were American ex-patriot women.  Their lives had landed them abroad for decades. They taught at the university or were chemists with CIBA-GEIGY.  Their husbands were titans of industry or wizards of global finance.  Some had raised families in that foreign land, children who spoke the strange sounds of Swiss-German with just as much fluency as they did English.  Each week, those women gathered in one another’s homes to drink coffee, speak English, and navigate together the difficulty of being strangers in a strange land.

They could have been our mothers or grandmothers as they turned to us with the listening ears and compassionate care that we all need when we fear that we are alone in the dark, a long way from home. They didn’t have to be so nice, but they were. Each of them, in her own way, was extraordinary in her ordinary kindness.  There were smiles and hugs and cups of coffee.  In days to come, there were bowls of chili and slices of apple pie that tasted just like home.  And in some way when we were with them, we were home, even if it was only for an hour or so at a time in the midst of that sea of indifferent faces and other languages.

I trust that on that first Pentecost the nameless ninety went out into the streets of Jerusalem to be extraordinary in their ordinary ways.  They were kind and welcoming.  They listened and cared.  They were a lot like those American ex-patriot women I met in Basel.  In their willingness to love, they revealed that other love, the Great Love that spins the whirling planets, puffs into our lungs the breath of life, and waits to welcome us at the last.  They showed forth the holy love that walked this world in Jesus.  Filled with the Spirit, the unknown ninety went forth in their quiet, quaint, and ordinary ways to speak other languages that made the world feel like home to people who feared they were alone in the dark.

As we celebrate that first Pentecost and the falling of the Spirit upon all those named and nameless followers of Jesus, may we remember that the Holy Spirit rests upon each of us.  Empowered by the Spirit, some of us may go forth to serve the Kingdom in ways that are truly remarkable and well-worthy of the disciples.  Yet most of us will be like the ninety.  We’ll go forth to speak the languages that others long to hear in a world that feels lonely, unsafe, and far from home.  It may surprise us to learn that we are already fluent in the loving language that Jesus spoke so eloquently, the language that our neighbors long to hear.

We can speak the language of prayer.  We’ll lay a hand on the shoulder of a hurting friend and seek some holy help.  We’ll pray with the headlines, lifting up the victims of school shootings, natural disasters, and the tragedy of war.  We’ll pray for those whom we love, gently naming the worries and fears that plague every family and trusting the Lord to be at work.  We are fluent in prayer.

We can speak the language of caring.  We’ll feed hungry people with monthly food offerings. We’ll share the gospel of fresh, church-grown vegetables.  We’ll testify with toilet paper and paper towels for Grace Pantry. We’ll wrap hurting neighbors in prayer shawls made with love.  We’ll cheer friends with the gift of a prayer bear.  We’ll bless folks through times of crisis with help from the deacons’ fund. We are fluent in care.

We can speak the language of welcome.  We’ll take the time to truly see our vulnerable neighbors, to notice, greet, and listen.  We’ll reach out with concern for those who feel invisible, due to advancing age or growing disability.  We’ll greet and honor children, whose voices are often dismissed.  We’ll embrace diversity as God’s wondrous and stunning plan for humanity.  We’ll welcome students who feel like strangers in a strange land as they contend with sub-zero temperatures, long dark winters, and cafeteria food. We are fluent in the language of welcome.

By the power of the Spirit, each of us can be extraordinary in our ordinary, everyday ways.  Through our prayer, caring, and welcome, this world may even begin to feel like home for those who fear they are alone in the dark.  Let us go forth to speak the languages that others need to hear.  Amen.

Resources:

Karl Kuhn. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 5, 2022. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Debra J. Mumford. Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 31, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 9, 2019. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Greg Carey. Amy Oden. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 20, 2018. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mikeal C. Parsons. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 8, 2014. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Acts 2:1-13

2 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2 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. 3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. 5 Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13 But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

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