Feast of Pentecost
Today we meet the disciples, sheltering in place, locked up in the upper room, days after the crucifixion. They were full of fear. They were confused about what to do next. They were hurting. And into their midst, Jesus, the risen One, appears. He wishes them “Peace.” Twice. He wanted to take away their fear and anxiety. Then he breathes on them. “Receive the Holy Spirit,” he says.
Breathes on them. In the Jewish scriptures, the word, ruah, means “spirit” but it also means “breath” and “wind.” In the Book of Genesis, the Spirit of God hovered over the waters of creation and brought life. In the second creation story, God breathes on clay to form the first human being: breath gives life.
And now, the risen Jesus, in a very human, intimate gesture, breathes on the disciples: giving his friends new life, comforting them, freeing them from their fear, motivating them to leave the upper room and begin the work of discipleship.
This image of breathing deeply resonates today. We experience the Spirit of God when we receive soothing encouragement from a friend in times of difficulty, when we experience stillness of soul in our prayer or in nature, or when we enjoy the quiet intimacy of someone we love. St. Ignatius described one action of the Spirit as water dropping on a sponge: this is the Spirit of God whose presence is felt as gentleness, tenderness. Bernard of Clairvaux described the Spirit so beautifully and simply as the kiss of God.
The image of breathing takes on other resonances for us today. We know that the coronavirus can take away breath. As he was dying on a street in Minneapolis, George Floyd yelled, “I can’t breathe.” God wants only to give life, but a virus or violence can take it away. In our own ways, we can get in the way of the Spirit’s action, of God wanting to give peace. In fear, there is little room for peace. We are stuck in our locked upper rooms.
That’s why the other image of the Spirit in today’s readings is so helpful. In the dramatic scene from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear: “And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind,” filling the house. Here, the Holy Spirit is not given to us as a gentle, intimate breath, but as something more dynamic and powerful. This is another way that we experience God’s Spirit. We have felt the action of the Spirit in this way when we are passionate about something we are doing or studying. It’s the excitement when we are inspired by a bold insight or brim over with creative energy. It’s the courage or confidence we feel deep down in a challenging situation. And it’s the prophetic motivation to name injustice and to labor tirelessly to root out systemic oppression and racism.
At Pentecost, we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit, the presence of God in our midst. And this divine presence, this Spirit, cannot be exhausted or reduced to one form or experience.
“Come Holy Spirit and fill the hearts of the faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love.” So opens the traditional prayer to the Holy Spirit. Come Holy Spirit to us today, come as gentle breath when we need you; come as mighty wind when we need you.
“Send forth your Spirit,” the prayer continues, “and they shall be created, and you will renew the face of the earth.” The gift of the Spirit is not to be hoarded, but to be spent and shared, so that we leave our locked rooms or liberate others from theirs, so that we can soothe hurts, and so that we can be agents of reconciliation and ministers of justice in a world too mired by divisiveness and injustice.
In our wake, please God, may we leave only peace, the peace that the risen Lord breathed upon his disciples and wants so desperately to give us and through us, the world.