In the Unity of the Holy Spirit

Pentecost Sunday; Yr. A, June 8, 2014

Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13; John 20:19-23

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

         Today is the feast of Pentecost, a day when we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit.  Our Pentecostal brothers and sisters celebrate this gift every Sunday during the year.  They recognize the power of the Spirit in their lives every day.  They expect to see it at work in their worship and in their homes.  The Spirit is alive, and they are alive in the Spirit, sometimes in ways that seem strange to us.  But just as the Son and the Father are made one in the Spirit, so are we made one in the communion of the Spirit.  We sometimes recognize that Spirit in the oddest of places.

            Tarzan has been one of our family’s favorite Disney movies.  It’s the story of a boy who’s raised by gorillas in the jungle.  In the Disney version, the gorilla who leads the pack isn’t too happy to have Tarzan in the mix.  Tarzan is different.  He’s human.  After accidentally causing a stampede that endangers many in his gorilla family, Tarzan runs off by himself.  Looking into the water, he sees how different he is.  His gorilla mother, Kala, finds him at the waters edge.  “Why am I so different?” Tarzan asks her.  Lovingly, she looks at him, the son she has adopted.  “What are these?” “Two eyes” He answers.  “Just like mine.”  She says.  “And what is this?”  She continues.  “A nose.”  He says.  “Just like mine.”  She repeats.  “And what are these?”  She posits.  “Two ears.”  He says.  “Just like mine.”  She holds up her hands and the two of them touch palm to palm.  His smile fades as Tarzan looks at their different hands. He says, “But I don’t look like you.”  Kala takes his hand and places it on his chest.  “What do you feel?”  She asks.  “My heart.”  Then she pulls him into a hug, and places his ear on her chest.  “What do you hear?”  He hears her heart beating.  “See”, she says.  “We’re the same.” 

            If we pay too much attention to the outside and we miss what’s in the inside.  We see differences that divide us.  We forget to look into the heart and see just how much we have in common.  Kala was wise.  She knew to look beyond the external, to the inside, for what she and Tarzan had in common.  It has taken the human race a very long time to discover that what we see on the outside can be deceiving.  We judge others because of the clothes they wear, or the color of their skin, or the shape of their eyes, the number of tatoos on their arms, or the condition of their teeth.  We make assumptions about their past, their present and their future.  We make quick decisions about whether we’ll engage them in conversation, or sit next them on the bus.  We decide how much we’ll reveal about ourselves to someone, long before we really know much about them as an individual.  Our brains work quickly, on autopilot if we’re not paying attention.

            When Jesus stood with the disciples in that upper room, what was their autopilot saying to them?  They didn’t recognize him.  Why not?  Was his external appearance changed?  Did he look different to them in that resurrection body?  Why didn’t he just tell them who he was?  Instead he greets them with peace, and immediately showed the disciples the wounds on his hands and his side.  He showed them the marks of his suffering. 

            I used to think that he did that because those were marks of a recent event that was at the front of the disciples’ minds.  If they had any clue that this was Jesus, they wouldn’t believe their eyes.  They had seen him crucified, and watched him taken off the cross, and placed in a tomb.  Several days later they had also gone to the tomb and found it empty.  Could this apparition really be Jesus?  What does Jesus do?  He shows them his wounds.  The marks of the passion that they all know were his.  Real evidence.  Hard evidence.  That’s what I used to think.  It was about proving who he was.

            But when I read the gospel this time, I began to wonder.  Maybe there’s more to that.  Maybe, Jesus showed them his wounds because that heart place of woundedness is where we really connect with others.  We step across the boundaries of difference when we recognize the human condition in others.  We see the wounds that mark our own skin reflected on the hands and feet and side of another … wounds of alienation, shame, loss, fear, betrayal, anger.  We are invited into a sacred space, and we experience our shared vulnerability.  We come face to face with the commonality of our human condition.  No matter how different someone else may appear to us on the outside, the wounds on the inside often look all too familiar.

            When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, people rushed to give whatever they could.  When the planes flew into the Twin Towers on 9-11, everyone was glued to their TV screen, watching the eerie scene over and over again.  And then we gave.  When the earthquake leveled Haiti the Episcopal Church mobilized quickly and easily raised money to send assistance.  When the tsunami crashed into Japan, we gave again.  Seeing families torn apart, homes lost, death on a gruesome scale … everyone was drawn together in the Spirit … with the pain, the fear, the isolation, the loss right there.  The wounds laid bare … and we acted as one Body led by the Spirit.

            That Spirit is always at work in us.  St. Augustine called the Holy Spirit the love that exists between the Father and the Son, the cord that binds them, the thread that is woven in and through them.  We do not have to wait for a catastrophe to strike in order to sense it.  It’s there all the time if we’re looking for it, always calling us together in love, guiding us to use our gifts for one another, urging us into communion.

            Clearly, we are not all exactly alike, nor are we meant to be.  God gives each of us gifts; gifts that make us unique, and we have the opportunity to use those gifts for the good of all.  It’s the Spirit that activates those gifts and prompts us to look through color-blind eyes.  It’s the Spirit that guides us, and helps us to recognize the needs of the world.  It’s the Spirit that pulls us together and binds us to one another in both need and joy. 

            Yesterday, 18 of us gathered to learn about the disease of addiction as it relates to incarceration, and mindfulness as a tool that can lead toward recovery and help prevent recidivism.  It’s the first of eight workshops that will happen here as a result of the Turning Points Resource Center that is here.  The Spirit is moving in that ministry.  For several years now, Precious has struggled to know how best to proceed.  But through the work of the Spirit, people have been brought together that share a common concern for those who are incarcerated.  The workshops are a beginning, and as I looked around the room, I was surprised by the what I saw.  Mostly women.  A lot of white women.  A number of mothers with children in prison.  A smattering of women coming out of prison and trying to make their way back into community. A few good men sharing the experience of addiction and prison.  All of them brought together by their woundedness … shame, fear, anger, hurt, helplessness, confusion … all of them searching for hope. 

            About eight people signed up as interested in attending a support group here.  When the Spirit brings people together, things can happen.  Suddenly, yes we can shines in new eyes … and the energy is palpable.  Community is powerful.  There’s power in solidarity.  That’s why slave owners worked so hard to pit slaves against one another.  If they were fighting amongst themselves, they wouldn’t rise up together against a horribly unjust system.  That’s why Jesus sent his apostles out two by two.  The Spirit works in relationships, always calling us together … often around our own passions … around those things we care most about.  Together we find hope painting the prospect of a new future.   

            The Spirit is like that, whether breath, wind, fire, or dove.   It moves and burns and blows mightily into our lives bringing us into contact with others who may look nothing like us, but who have two eyes … just like mine, a nose … just like mine, two ears … just like mine, and a heart.  We are the same on the inside.  God sees that in every moment, and continuously sends the Spirit to us as a gift … so that we can see it too.  So that we too can live in the unity of the Holy Spirit.

Amen

When we were adopting our daughter, we came across a Chinese Proverb that said

“An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break.”