Pentecost, the birth of our Church, is a story of isolation and fear. The apostles, concerned for their personal safety were bewildered and frightened. They feared persecution, perceived to be lurking on the other side of the door. They knew what they were being called to do, but the sobering reality was it meant risking their lives. It meant owning their beliefs in the face of the unknown. It had to have been petrifying. I think it still is.
Jesus’ appearance, driving wind, tongues of fire, different languages…a maelstrom of wild, unfathomable and terrifying emotions and experiences happened all at once then, and still. There is still fear present in the change from what we have known. The genesis and implications of that beginning of our Church spans history, connecting vulnerable humans across the centuries…humans being invited into a deeper relationship.
This Pentecost we sit with fear and isolation, trying to imagine a rebirth of our Church in light of COVID-19. We are in the same proverbial room as the first apostles. A cacophony of voicing what is good or bad theology. We are trying to find spiritual solace and guidance in what is happening as we argue, discuss and discern what a return to communion and communal celebrations will look like, what it means to BE Church at a physical distance? We are experiencing the Body of Christ evolving through the grace of…you know it…the Holy Spirit.
The huddled apostles no doubt prayed and cried, were confused, humbled, and scared just like each of us. They probably felt they weren’t up to the task at hand. Which is why we find them locked in a room. Yet God has an incessant and unstoppable manner of getting into our hearts and our heads, seeking us out where we hide, wearing us down, and transforming us through the Spirit. We can lock ourselves in a room, hide under the covers, or walk across Spain, but we can’t escape God who crashes through the door, hounding us until we wave the white flag. God refuses to accept “not for me” “ask someone else,” insisting that our “no” means “yes.” We make plans, God hijacks them, frequently with realities that confound us or that we reject, until we finally relent.
This is the grace and joy of Pentecost. The first apostles, and each of us, hiding, fearful of what will happen. Not confident in the truth that God sees our gifts, our goodness, and our power to love despite our inability see all of it within ourselves. Pentecost honors our capability to proclaim.
What materialized for the apostles, and for us, is the invitation to live the truth of our faith, the truth of being followers of Jesus Christ. The comfort of the Holy Spirit isn’t always the truth that we believe we are living, but the truth to be open, to trust, to commit to embracing and embodying the Gospels. Sometimes that’s not very comfortable. We are confronted with truths that we don’t necessarily want to believe about ourselves, meaning that we can’t always be who we think we are meant to be. The truth of the Holy Spirit is the truth that pulled St. Francis of Assisi into a life that had nothing to do with the life he and his family envisioned for him. It’s the truth that invited St. Maximilian Kolbe to sacrifice his life for another. It’s the truth that beckoned St. Clare from her comfortable life of privilege to one of total dependence on God. It’s the truth that calls our healthcare personnel and essential workers to the hospitals and places of work throughout this pandemic. The realities of these truths are raw and frightening. They are laden with despair, despondency and death. Most of us (me) just don’t want to face these truths because we fear an unknown path that isn’t in our plan. Yet truth can also be found in our deeper connections with one another despite isolation; through shopping for elderly or vulnerable family members and neighbors, Zoom prayer gatherings, live streamed Masses or texts with friends. These truths are filled with hope, consolation and love.
God sent the Holy Spirit to strengthen and inspire the apostles out of their fears and render their lack of confidence into courage. These were people who didn’t have their acts or their resumes together, which makes them all the more relatable for me. God sends the Holy Spirit to steadily and lovingly pursue us, provoking us to face our fears and act, because God knows that we CAN and WILL respond to the challenge of proclaiming the Gospel in creative, dynamic and loving ways.
That terrifying night of Pentecost ignited our Church. It endures as a testament to the radical, enigmatic and transformative power of the Holy Spirit. A power that drags us kicking and screaming out of our comfort zones. God, in the person of Jesus and through the breath of the Spirit, liberates us with tender, firm and loving confidence to live our faith. God guides us to recognize ourselves as those apostles huddled together in that room commissioned to proclaim the Good News.
So when I envision the Holy Spirit descending, I’m not so motivated by an image of a peaceful, gentle, white dove. What inspires me is an audacious dynamic creative force, continually confronting and challenging me with hard truths about my faith. The Holy Spirit provoked those apostles into facing their fears and embrace Jesus’ mission to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is present in their mess, their fears, their joys. She is still at it.
Alexandria M. Egler, Ph.D.
Executive Director
Mission, Ministry & Interfaith Dialogue
