Day of Pentecost, Year C

This week I received an email from an old friend, and with his permission, I’m sharing it with you today.   

“Rev C.,
 
The most depressing thing about getting old is that there is no
‘home’ to go to.  I always had my folks to go home to for just for a visit, regardless of where they lived.
 
It’s all gone……”
 

I’ve heard people say that when both their parents have died, they feel like orphans, all alone in the world, even if they have spouses, children, and other relatives present in their lives.  

If we live long enough, we, too, will face the loss of people and things we thought we could never live without. 

And ultimately, each one of us will die, because we are creatures made from the dust of the earth, and to dust each one of us will return. 

The royal philosopher who wrote Ecclesiastes put it this way—“What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun?   All things are wearisome; more than one can express.”  (Ecclesiastes 1:3, 8). 

In the gospel today, the disciples gathered around Jesus are facing the impending loss of the person that they have given up everything to follow and they are experiencing that same hopelessness that the writer of Ecclesiastes captures so poetically, that same hopelessness that each one of us has felt or will feel in our own lives.  

Being left alone is on their minds. 

During this extended conversation with Jesus that we know as the farewell discourse, Peter has asked, “Lord, where are you going?”  Thomas has asked, “Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?”  

And in today’s passage, Philip offers a suggestion to Jesus.  

“Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”   (Maybe we can bear to lose you if only we can see the Father.) 

Jesus tells the disciples and he tells us, that he will ask the Father, and he will give them another Advocate, to be with them forever, and this is the Spirit of Jesus himself.  

And we have been given another Advocate, to be with us forever.  

The Holy Spirit, Advocate, Comforter, Counselor, the one who comes alongside us to be our companion through this earthly journey and beyond is our direct link to Jesus, the Spirit of Jesus himself.  

Jesus has not left us alone.  

This Spirit is at work here and now, in each of our lives, and in our life together as a community—and this Spirit brings new life. 

But still, even as we know that the Spirit is at work, we struggle, and will continue to struggle with the fact that suffering and death and being left alone are an inevitable part of our lives.  And that is why the apostle Paul’s writing is so important to us, because Paul struggles with this same  issue in his epistles—even though we have new life because we belong to Jesus, we are still creatures of flesh, and we will suffer and die.  

In the lesson from Romans today, Paul explains that if we are led by the Spirit of God, we are children of God, and that the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, joins with our spirit to bear witness to the fact that we are children of God. 

The fact that we are children of God has a direct impact on the inevitable suffering, loss, pain and that sense of being left alone in the world that we will experience as human beings– 

because the Spirit of God is present with us, even in our sufferings. 

Imagine suffering as a room—and I’m going to call the room a “suffering room.” 

So I’m thinking of a room that is dark, rather airless, and seems to have no windows or doors.  I have no choice but to lie in that room and to waste away, just as I have no choice but to be in my body as it ages, grows frail, and wastes away.  And no one can go through this process but me. 
 

In this room, I may definitely feel that “all things are wearisome.” 

Now imagine that into this room comes a presence, a comforter, an advocate, a spirit that comes alongside me to share my suffering.  

In the light of this presence, I realize that this suffering room does indeed have windows and a door. 

And with my permission, the Spirit will fling open those windows and will open that door, letting light and fresh air into this dark and airless space.  

In the presence of the Spirit I can see something beyond the pain and the fear of death– I can see that I am not imprisoned in this suffering after all but that this Spirit wants to lead me through the door of the suffering room into the glory of a new life.  And –the Spirit will go with me. 

For those of us who believe in the hope of eternal life, the act of dying, then,  would be like being led by the Spirit from a small dark room through the always open gates into the eternal  light of the heavenly city, where death will be no more, and mourning and crying and pain will be no more.
 

In the meantime, for those who suffer here and now, for whatever reason, this promise of the spirit of truth, the Advocate, who will be with us forever, can help us find comfort in our places of suffering, because Jesus tells us that this Spirit who comes alongside us will bring us into a place of peace, will give us untroubled hearts, and will take away our fear even in the most awful of situations. 

And that Spirit never abandons us, but remains with us always. 
 

Now what about the coming of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost? 

The disciples are gathered together in one place when the Spirit rushes in with the noise of a mighty wind and tongues of fire appear over them.  The awe inspiring arrival of God in their very midst  is anything but a peaceful experience. 

And the disciples are filled with the Holy Spirit and begin to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gives them ability.

And they are speaking about God’s deeds of power.  

We, as the church, full of the Spirit of Jesus,  are called to speak the language of God to the broken and suffering world around us.  We disciples echo God’s voice and presence in the world, not through our own power, but through the power of the Spirit.  

As human beings, we are weak, and we will suffer and ultimately we will die—but as disciples, we are called, as the church, out of our own weakness,  to witness to God’s mighty deeds of power, and to be so open to the spirit that we can speak in a language that can be understood by those around us, those who are also suffering in this world.  

And our own suffering helps us to learn and to speak this language.  

The language of God for today is the language of God’s powerful peace.  It’s the language that dispels fear rather than creating even more fear.  It’s the language of the Comforter, who will never abandon us.  It’s the language of Jesus, speaking to us, even in our darkest moments, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  I will never leave you alone.  

It’s the language of God’s future.  It’s the language of the Spirit that invites all people into the new life that God is preparing for the whole world, the new life that has yet to be fulfilled, but that begins here and now. 

 

Amen. 

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