 |
| "Sunflowers" by jessicahtam, on Flickr |
Acts 2:1-11
When the day of Pentecost had come, [the apostles] were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.
And I will show portents in the heaven above
and signs on the earth below,
blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
The sun shall be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood,
before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”
John 20:19-23
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
--
It is Pentecost this weekend - the day that we celebrate the Holy Spirit descending in wind and in flame. Today is the day, in liturgical time, that Jesus makes good on the promise he made before his crucifixion and again at his ascension: that he would give us the gift of the Spirit as the enduring presence of God.
Most years, we celebrate Pentecost according to the Acts 2 version of the Holy Spirit, who comes in the rush of a wild wind and in tongues of fire descending from heaven. In Acts, the Holy Spirit is an untamable, unstoppable force of energy and holy chaos. In Acts, the Holy Spirit is always rushing from place to place hurriedly, lighting hearts on fire.
But my heart rests with John’s gospel this Pentecost, a vision of a gentler, more intimate gift of the Spirit than we get in Acts.
Our gospel reading from John today is an Easter story. Jesus appears to his disciples on the eve of the resurrection, passing through the locked doors and penetrating their collective fear, he first says to them, "Peace be with you." And then he breathes on them to give the Holy Spirit.
In this story, the Spirit is an exhale; the Spirit is a reassurance instead of a troublemaker. But make no mistake. This Spirit in John is no less bold and no less challenging. Because in John, Jesus gives the disciples the Holy Spirit in order that they might find peace, create reconciliation, and have the power to forgive.
The power to forgive is particularly scandalous. In Jesus' day, forgiveness was the purview of God and God alone.
Early in Matthew's gospel, Jesus gets into trouble with the religious authorities because of this understanding of forgiveness as God's business. Remember the story about the paralyzed man whose friends bring him to Jesus, except that the house where Jesus is staying is overrun with people, and they can't get in the door, so they go up to the roof, dig a hole in the ceiling, and lower the man down to where Jesus is sitting?
The first thing that Jesus does for the paralyzed man is to forgive his sins. And the religious leaders start angrily murmuring to one another, saying "This is blasphemy." To which Jesus says, "You there! You are doubting my power and authority to forgive? Let's try a little experiment here. Which is easier: forgiving this man's sins, or telling him, 'get up and walk?' But so that you will believe that I have been given authority on earth to forgive sins, here, let me prove it. You there, on the mat, get up, take your bed, and head on home. You are healed." And, of course, the paralyzed man does just that. Jesus, by healing the man’s body, proves that he can also heal his soul.
Then Matthew says something particularly important: "When the crowds saw it, they were filled with awe, and they glorified God, who had given such authority to human beings.” It is amazing and shocking to the crowds that Jesus, a human being, would be given the power of God to forgive. And now, at the end of John’s gospel, Jesus sends out his Spirit so that we also might be human beings with the authority and power of God to forgive.
During his ministry on earth, Jesus called disciples and empowered them to do the work that he was doing: feeding, healing, raising the dead. But here, in some of his last moments with the disciples on the far side of resurrection, he focuses specifically on this work of forgiveness.
It makes me wonder if Jesus gives them an extra dose of the Spirit to do this work because he knows that forgiveness and reconciliation are the hardest things that he calls us to do, and we can’t hope to do them without the Spirit’s help.
Because when you really look at the world, things like feeding people, sheltering them, caring for physical needs - these concrete things seem easy compared with having to look a friend or an enemy in the eye and say, “I forgive you.”
In his book The Sunflower, Simon Wiesenthal tells the story of a haunting incident that took place during his time as a prisoner in a concentration camp during World War II.
His work group had been sent to clean up medical waste at an army hospital for German soldiers. As they worked outside, a nurse approached him and asked him, “Are you a Jew?” He said yes, and she led him into the building, to the bedside of Karl, a wounded and dying 21-year old Nazi soldier. Karl told Simon that he wanted to tell him his story. He told Simon about his childhood and about the path that led him to becoming a part of the German army. Then he told Simon a horrific story about his involvement in the mass killing of a group of Jews in Russia, an incident that wouldn’t leave his head or heart. Even here on his deathbed, Karl could not get the terrible picture of that moment out of his head.
And so, he explained to Simon, “I lie here waiting for death. The pains in my body are terrible, but worse still is my conscience. I cannot die without coming clean. In the last hours of my life you are with me. I do not know who you are. I only know that you are a Jew and that is enough. In the long nights while I have been waiting for death, time and time again I have longed to talk about it to a Jew and beg forgiveness from him…I know that what I am asking is almost too much for you, but without your answer I cannot die in peace.”
Faced with the question of whether or not to forgive this Nazi soldier, Simon left the room in silence. When his work group returned to the hospital the next day, the same nurse came to Simon to tell him that Karl had died.
Wiesenthal later reflects, “"Ought I to have forgiven him? Was my silence at the bedside of the dying Nazi right or wrong? This is a profound moral question . . . The crux of the matter is, of course, the question of forgiveness. Forgetting is something that time alone takes care of, but forgiveness is an act of volition . . .”
“Ought I to have forgiven him?”
That is an exceedingly difficult question to answer. It is a question that spurs further questions. What is forgiveness? What does it do? Who has the right to ask forgiveness and who has the right to enact forgiveness? Does forgiveness require forgetfulness? Is there power in extending - or witholding - forgiveness? Is there such a thing as an unforgivable offense?
What are the limits of forgiveness?
Jesus tells us what those limits are: Forgive one another, seventy times seven times. (And he’s not talking about math.) Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors. Even while suffering and dying on the cross, Jesus says of his assailants, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”
Jesus tells us that forgiveness as deep as the ocean, as wide as the sky, a grace that is to be extended to all, even as that grace was first granted to us. It is a beautiful calling. And it is the hardest calling. Forgiveness and reconciliation are the deepest and most difficult acts of faith and discipleship to which Jesus calls us. Which is why we need a hefty dose of the Spirit to do it.
Because everything in our human nature resists this work. On my own, I have no desire whatsoever to forgive the driver of the van who plowed into a crowd of people on the London Bridge yesterday. On my own, I have no inclination whatsoever to forgive the man who stabbed two people last week on the Portland light rail train. On my own, I have no reason to forgive a dying Nazi soldier. I mean, I don't even want to forgive the person who is speaking small and petty insults behind my back!
But Jesus, who suffered and died for the sake of this work of forgiveness, gives me - and you - the Spirit so that we can do this work.
Forgiveness does not mean that we give injustice a free pass, and it doesn’t mean that we turn a blind eye to evil in our world. Forgiveness means acknowledging the truth about the pain in the world, and then choosing to move forward with God’s grace and love instead of with spite.
Forgiveness is an action that puts us at odds with every stubborn, arrogant, self-centered desire of our broken human hearts. Forgiveness means showing an extra share of grace to one another. Forgiveness requires humility. Forgiveness means choosing compassion instead of winning the argument. Forgiveness means looking for the gifts of the Spirit in one another instead of writing off those with whom we disagree.
Because the truth of the gospel is that the grace of God is found most deeply, most sincerely, most desperately, in the work of restoring relationships. God calls us to see his image in one another and in creation, and to extend peace and grace accordingly.
We extend this peace when we share the peace in worship. Because the passing of the peace is not just a time to stretch our legs or greet our neighbors. This is a theological time when we, prepare to share the meal of forgiveness and reconciliation that Christ has given us by being first reconciled to one another. What would it be like if during this time, you didn't just stay comfortably in your pew to shake hands with the people next to you, but instead went across the sanctuary to that one person who you argued with in a committee meeting, or that one person who you disagreed with during coffee hour last week, or that one person who you haven't given a fair chance? Because the passing of the peace is not an empty gesture. Jesus extended his hands to the fearful disciples, saying "Peace be with you," and so we extend our hands to one another for the sake of of forgiveness, peace, and reconciliation.
We are people who have been forgiven, who have been shown the fullness of divine grace. And we are now people who breathe the gift of the Spirit into our lungs. By this Spirit, may each of us be empowered and blessed to do the hardest thing, the most wonderful thing, the beautiful and scandalous work of loving even our enemies, and forgiving one another as a demonstration of God’s love and grace.
Breathe deeply. Receive the Holy Spirit. Be reconciled to God and to one another and to all creation. Peace be with you.
Tags:
sermon