It
happened on a Christmas Eve many years ago. I was a shepherd in the annual
Christmas pageant. Bear with me, I will get around to Pentecost, soon. I was
eight years old. Back then; I was a well-behaved, quiet and shy child. I was
known for being the “good” kid, the one with a smile and willingness to follow
directions. So, not much has changed. As a shepherd, I had a very easy role. I was
to walk up to the front of the church carrying a taper candle, wearing a
turban, carrying a shepherd’s crook, to kneel on the step next to the altar.
The other characters in the Christmas tableau would continue to join the scene
until the entire Christmas story was told. As I look back, I have no idea why
the shepherds arrived so early in the story, but we did. The older kids and
some adults retold the story as each character made their way to their spot. Songs
were sung, people were happy, life was good: it was the quintessential
Christian scene of Americana.
Now,
as I said, I was a good kid and I knew how important it was to stay focused on
playing the role assigned to me. The last thing I wanted was to be pointed out
as the troublemaker. But my friend, Brendan Clark, was not as concerned as I
was with being in character. Brendan lived on the margin of trouble, it was
what made him endearing. He was funny and enjoyed having a good time (even at
the age of 8). You have met this person. You may even be this person. We were
the two shepherds. We walked up the aisle of the church, got to our spots, and
knelt down on the step.
All
the time, Brendan was whispering under his breath. I don’t’ remember what he was
saying; it was something he was dreaming about, something that caught his
attention and made him laugh. And he wanted to share that with me. He wanted me
to laugh, too.
I
was an easy target. Normally an askance look would get me to laugh, but not on
that day. I was not going to lose my attention. I wasn’t going to look at him. I
ignored what he was saying to me so that I could stay in character, a shepherd,
kneeling in front of a crowd of people in the midst of the annual Christmas
pageant.
Then
I noticed a choir member jump up from his seat, leap the over the chancel rail
and run toward us. “It must be Brendan,” I said to myself. It happened very
fast and I remember thinking “Focus on being a shepherd, don’t look to the
side, just stay in character.” That is until the leaping and running choir
member grabbed my turban, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it.
I
didn’t have any idea why he did what he did, but he scared me to death. I
actually lost my focus and turned (that was how I was able to report what
happened). Why would he grab my turban and attempt to distract me from my role,
right in the middle of the only performance. I was so embarrassed. It wasn’t
until later that I discovered that choir member was actually a superhero of
sorts. Brendan had been talking to me, laughing, whispering under his breath
all in an attempt to get an acknowledgement from me. Each time, he would turn
slightly to his left, toward me. During one of his turns, the flame of his
taper candle ignited my old cloth turban. The fire spread quickly up my turban
and toward my head. Thankfully, that choir member saw what was happening. I
certainly didn’t because I wasn’t glancing backward or even sideways; I was
looking forward with every ounce of concentration staying focused on being a
shepherd. When he grabbed that turban and threw it to the ground, he saved my
life, or at least my hair.
Now,
it isn’t Christmas. It is Pentecost, the 2nd most important feast day of the
Christian year (following Easter). It doesn’t get very much attention in
comparison to Easter and certainly Christmas, but it is very significant. This
year, it falls on Memorial Day weekend. It does that every couple of years.
Pentecost
is often lost in the shuffle toward summer, but it is the day that we celebrate
the gift of the Holy Spirit to the disciples after Jesus’ ascension into
heaven. We often imagine the Holy Spirit as the descending dove (like at Jesus’
baptism) that brings peace and tranquility, a connection between people far and
wide, rich and poor, black and white. That is not the way it is described in
the Acts of the Apostles. There it is described as a sudden, violent, wind that
results in tongues of fire resting on each of the disciples. That is why I
remember that Christmas pageant story, so many years ago, on this day, because
it is the only time in my life that fire has rested upon me, literally that is.
It was only a brief rest, but it was rest, nonetheless. A rush of adrenaline,
the leaping choir member, the wind of Brendan Clark’s voice accompanied it. And
there I was speechless in the midst of the chaos.
That
is the only time that I have ever been on fire and hopefully my last. Fire is
dangerous. Firemen heroically risk themselves to fight fire and there are
others who manipulate fire in such a way that makes it exciting, like the
people you see in the circus. But those who are recovering in hospitals or in
burn units are hidden from view because fire is a dangerous element that in the
right conditions spreads and consumes everything.
Luke,
in the Acts of the Apostles, describes the Holy Spirit as this dangerous
element. It is something that consumes the being of each of the disciples. It
consumes their being in such a way that they are changed. On this Pentecost
Sunday, we celebrate the baptism of two newly minted Christians: Jean Anatole
and Wells. As we renew our baptismal covenant, remember the consuming promises
that we make in accepting the responsibility of being disciples: continue in
fellowship with one another in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers, resist
evil, proclaim the Good News, love our neighbor as ourselves, respect the
dignity of every human being.
These
responsibilities are not confined to Sundays or major holidays, the
responsibilities permeate by the Holy Spirit into everything that we do, they
consume who we are just as fire consumes everything in its path.
A
dove may be a fitting symbol of peace but it is not a good example of what it
takes to be a Christian. And on this day that we celebrate the birth of the
Church, we must remember the dangerous nature of that work, that ministry, we
must remember that we are all in the trenches attempting to realize the many
ways that God’s mission can and may be fulfilled. It is like a violent wind, a
flame of fire, others will question our motives, and us (just as the disciples
were questioned about drinking the new wine at 9:00am) but we are told to stand
firm in order to realize God’s grace and love.
Take
it from someone on whom fire has rested. God is bigger than any group or people
or religion, or church or school or city or country. And just as fire can
consume all things, can become big and dangerous, so too can God’s love spread
and be in all people. God’s love is beyond limits. That is our mission, the
mission of the Church that we celebrate on this day, St Patrick’s, and the
Episcopal Church, and the church of all people, we are called to spread God’s
love to the world. We do it together and we do it by ourselves, but we do it in
thanksgiving of God’s Holy Spirit that fills each of our hearts with compassion
for each other and the world. Let that compassion, that Holy Spirit, consume
you and allow it to spread outward into the world.
That
is what this Pentecost Sunday is all about, letting God’s love loose in the
world. Take it on and send it forward
In
this we pray…
The
Rev. Dr. Kurt Gerhard (kurt@stpatrickschurchdc.org)
St.
Patrick’s Church (www.stpatrickschurchdc.org)
Washington,
DC
May
27, 2012 (Pentecost)
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