| Whitsunday, also known as Pentecost , 2001
Acts 1:1-11 The Age of the Spirit
There is a story about a Pentecost celebration staged by the fifteenth-century Italian ruler Lorenzo de' Medici. In one of Florence's magnificent cathedrals he planned to stage a dramatic reenactment of the Pentecostal flames. A system of wires and pulleys coming down from the ceiling was designed so that real fire would come streaking down over the heads of the congregation. This would supposedly dramatize the miracle of flaming tongues that came down on the apostles on that first Christian Pentecost. Everything worked as planned until the fire brushed against some curtains and ignited them. The Church burned to the ground.
Our purpose on this Whitsunday is to examine the epistle text about the coming of the Holy Spirit. What does it mean for the Church to live in the age of the Spirit?
Acts 2:1 says that "When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were all with one accord in one place." Where was this place and who was there? Forty days after Passover the risen Savior ascended into heaven. The shekinah glory cloud lifted Him up into the sky until He slowly vanished out of sight. The ascension occurred just outside of Jerusalem on the Mount of Olives. Jesus had told His disciples that He would send them His Holy Spirit. Therefore, the band passed from the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem in order to gather in the upper room where Jesus had instituted the Lord's Supper. It was in this upper room that the followers of the Lord were all with one accord in one place, waiting for the Spirit's coming. When would Jesus send His Holy Spirit? They were not sure.
Ten days after Christ's ascension the feast of Pentecost began. It was one of the three great celebrations of Judaism. Jews from all over the Roman Empire would journey to the Temple in Jerusalem to offer the first fruits of the year's wheat harvest. The pilgrim caravans would enter the Holy City in the full glory of early summer.
According to Alfred Edersheim, an expert in the temple services, the feast began at midnight when the Levites blasted their trumpets. The preparations by the priests would last through the night. Early in the morning at dawn all would gather in the temple for the sacrifices. While the Levites sang psalms, the worshippers watched the priests sacrifice lambs and goats, and wave two giant loaves. The waving of the loaves was the ritual most peculiar to Pentecost. Each loaf of bread was specially baked, and weighed over five pounds. Standing before the vast crowd, the priest waved the bread up and down, back and forth as an expression of dedication and thanksgiving to the Lord. After the waving of the loaves the people had opportunity to bring their own freewill-offerings, each as the Lord had prospered him. When the morning ceremonies were concluded, the afternoon and evening was spent in a festive meal, to which the stranger, the poor, and the Levite were invited.
It was at nine in the morning, in the midst of these Pentecostal ceremonies that "suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting" (v. 2). Evidently the noise was loud enough to be heard by the multitudes, for verse six says that "when this sound occurred, the multitude came together" to find out what was going on. What a sight it was! "Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance." The picture presented is that of great jets of flame breaking up into smaller scintillation's, one of which rested upon the head of each person present. The blazing flames over the heads of men and women must have caused quite a commotion. We know that Peter and the disciples eventually arrived that day in the temple, so the disciples must have left their seats in the upper room for the streets. The crowds gathered to wonder at the spectacle. To the Jewish people the fire from heaven called to mind the burning bush of Moses, and the roaring fire that came down on Mount Carmel when Elijah confronted the false prophets of Baal.
Besides the fire, each believer spoke in tongues. What were the tongues all about? Were they translatable languages or a string of incoherent syllables? Many of the Early Church Fathers thought that the Holy Spirit had miraculously taught foreign languages to the Apostles in order that they could travel abroad and do missionary work. For example if the same thing were to happen to us this morning, one of you might automatically be able to speak perfect Chinese, another flawless German, another Navajo, someone else Arabic, and so forth. With fluency in these languages we would go and evangelize the tribes and peoples who spoke them. The Fathers may have been correct. But language was not a major barrier in the Roman Empire. Almost everyone spoke Greek or Aramaic. Hence, the need for fluency in several languages might have been helpful, but not absolutely necessary.
As some of you know, modern Pentecostal groups place special emphasis on tongues utterance. They claim that the Holy Spirit baptized the apostles, thus giving them the gift of charismatic glossolalia. Such ecstatic speech is regarded as a second blessing. Those who can speak glossolalia stand above Christians who merely enjoy the first blessing of salvation. How do we respond to the doctrine of Spirit baptism and second blessing? A couple things should be said.
First of all, the nonverbal glossolalia commonly practiced today is not a foreign language, but a natural reflex or capacity of the human body, no different than weeping, laughter, or hysteria. It can be used for good or bad. Pagan religions use glossolalia just as much as modern Pentecostals, so it can be abused. However it seems clear that as a devotional exercise glossolalia enriches some Christians. They find that their communion with God is deepened. Most of us have met people who profess the value of glossolalia. In my seminary days, I was involved in a prayer group where a couple of the guys regularly prayed in tongues. I could find no good reason to criticize their moderate and orderly use of ecstatic syllables. It seemed to free them up and warm them up in their prayers.
However, glossolalists need to accept a couple facts. First, charismatic glossolalia is not for every Christian. For months I tried my best to speak in tongues and my friends tried their best to encourage me, but it never happened. In reality, the vast majority of saints down through the ages have never uttered glossolalia of any kind. It had no value for them. Secondly, glossolalists must renounce their two-tier doctrine of Spirit baptism. The notion that the Christian life has two stages, the first stage being salvation and the second stage tongues-speaking is simply false. To be fair, not all charismatics believe in this two-level system. Nevertheless, it is a popular teaching. What else is it but spiritual pride that consigns the non-tongues speaking Christians to an inferior level, and elevates the glossolalists to a second and elite stage of holiness? The Apostles' experience at Pentecost did not establish a normative pattern whereby Christians make a transition from a lower level to a higher one via glossolalia. Some of the best work of the Holy Spirit is quite unspectacular. The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22).
Even a cursory reading of the text in Acts chapter two proves that the gift of tongues on Pentecost was not glossolalia, rather the tongues were translatable languages. Let us read Acts 2:7-11:
Then they were all amazed and marveled, saying to one another, "Look, are not all these who speak Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each in our own language in which we were born? Parthians and Medes and Elamites, those dwelling in Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya adjoining Cyrene, visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs -- we hear them speaking in our own tongues the wonderful works of God.
Remember, that at the feast of Pentecost there were visitors from all over the Empire. Parthians, Medes, and Elamites came from the east. Cappadocia, Pontus and Rome were regions to the north and west. Egypt and Libya were located to the south. In effect there were representatives from the continents of Asia, Europe, and Africa. What was it that struck these distant travelers about the tongues-speaking of the Galileans? They were astonished that they recognized the indigenous languages and dialects of their native lands. Peter and the apostles, Mary and the other women disciples were walking through the streets of Jerusalem praising God in languages spoken and understood throughout the known world. The Holy Spirit had given them a miraculous command of foreign tongues. Those of you who are bilingual know that it takes years to learn a language, yet the apostles were immediately fluent. That was truly amazing.
Let us now make some general observations about the age of the Spirit. In our time the modern Church tends to identify the Spirit with freedom and spontaneity, ecstasy and entertainment. In a traditional parish like St. Luke's we prize our Prayer Book liturgy, decency and order. As the late Stephen Neil once said, "The aim of the Anglican Church is not that of producing immediate emotional effects, but of gradually building up a settled resolute will to holiness." This is an advantage of the Anglican ethos and worship. Anglicanism builds mature habits and discipline. Moreover we uphold rigorous theological standards - the Creeds and councils, our confession (The Thirty-Nine Articles) and catechism. Nevertheless, we should be humble enough to admit potential weaknesses. A danger of traditional conservative churches like ours is that we may come to disparage experience altogether, and become stiff and stuffy. We may arrive at an exaggerated love of rationalism, mechanistic doctrines, and a primacy-of-the-intellect form of worship. Rationalism is good, doctrine is good, and intellectualism is fine, but they can be taken too far. As Christians we need a balanced, well-rounded Church-life. In order to attain that balance, we may need a little dose of irrationalism, emotion, mystery and beauty. We shouldn't fear irrationalism; it can be used for good or for ill. We shouldn't disparage mystery; it is bound up in the Real Presence of the Eucharist. We shouldn't demean emotion; it is often the work of the Holy Spirit. Nor should we slight beauty; it is the essence of holiness.
In his book, For the Life of the World , Alexander Schmemann attempts to defend the beauty of the liturgy. Too often sacred art, crosses and candles, liturgical vestments, and beautiful music are denounced as unnecessary. He writes:
"Unnecessary it is indeed, for we are beyond the categories of the 'necessary.' Beauty is never 'necessary,' 'functional,' or 'useful.' And when, expecting someone whom we love, we put a beautiful tablecloth on the table and decorate it with candles and flowers, we do all this not out of necessity, but out of love. And the church is love, expectation, and joy. It is heaven on earth, according to our Orthodox tradition; it is the joy of recovered childhood, that free, unconditioned, and disinterested joy that alone is capable of transforming the world. In our adult, serious piety we ask for definitions and justifications, and they are rooted in fear - fear of corruption, deviation, "pagan influences," and whatnot. But 'he that feareth is not made perfect in love' (1 John 4:18). As long as Christians will love the Kingdom of God, and not only discuss it, they will 'represent' it and signify it in art and beauty."
Schmemann's words are worth pondering. The Holy Spirit works just as much through love and beauty as He does through doctrines and definitions.
Few things please God less than a lifeless church. If Christ rules over heaven and earth, and has sent His Holy Spirit to guide and empower us, then we are to be passionate about what we believe, and how we worship. Although we have historic forms of adoration and a set liturgy, they afford opportunities to experience the fullness and movement of the Spirit. You may sense a sublime fellowship with God in the liturgical prayers. You may undergo an intense encounter with Christ as you come forward for communion. Your senses may be stirred as you participate in the different aspects of the liturgy. As you sing the hymns and listen to the music, your spirit may soar to heaven. As you gaze upon works of sacred art, there may be an awakening of new affections. Bible reading and Bible studies may spark a love for God's work, and put you in a devotional frame of mind. Your emotions may at times overflow with tears of joy, tears of contrition. The Holy Spirit may grant you flashes of insight and moments of grace, in which you are deeply aware of God's presence. A wide range of wonderful experiences may happen. Let's be careful to say they "may" happen to you, because authentic experience cannot be manipulated any more than the Spirit can.
On this Pentecost day let us ask ourselves a question: What do visitors perceive when they attend St. Luke's? Do they sense the coldness of a corpse and the smell of death? God forbid! Or do they feel solemn joy and reverent passion in our hymns and responses? I pray the latter. Outsiders should sense the power and presence of Christ through the Holy Spirit. They should see repentance and restitution, faith, hope, and love, joy and peace, praise and prayer, conscious communion with Christ, readiness to share, and a spontaneous reaching out to all in need. These are the traits that will draw outsiders, indeed these are the marks of the Holy Spirit. Return to Sermons |
