Pascha VIII Pentecost

The Eighth Sunday of Easter: The Solemnity of Pentecost

Acts 2:1-11; Psalm 104; Romans 8:8-17; John 14:15-16, 23b-26

“O Holy Spirit, Flowing Light…”

Flowing Light? Does light flow? We say rivers flow; traffic flows, ideas flow. What might it mean for light to flow? And what does that reveal to us about the Holy Spirit?

“O Holy Spirit, Wisdom’s Fire…”

Wisdom’s Fire? Wisdom – experience, good judgement, an ability to discern. What is “wisdom’s fire” then? Do we think of wisdom as fire? What does this reveal to us about the Holy Spirit?

“Leaping flame and steeple’s spire…”

What might it mean to put these two seemingly unrelated images together? I am reminded of the Cathedral of Notre Dame when leaping flame destroyed steeple’s spire. Do they have anything in common? The movement of fire. Solid stone. Both reaching uplifting our desire. How are they different? Is it the similarity, if any, or the contrast of these two images that reveal the Holy Spirit?

“Distill our tears to crystal psalm…”

Distill our tears to crystal…maybe? but crystal psalm? A shimmering, sparkling crystal, song. What might that mean?

The images of our opening hymn, Laus Tibi Sancte Spiritus, were inspired by the 12th century Benedictine nun, Hildegard von Bingen. She was a powerful woman in any age combining within her the scientist and mystic, the musician and medical observer, the poet and botanist. It is to images such as these; images that are difficult to wrap our contemporary minds around that she turns to in speaking of God’s Spirit.

The phrases I’ve highlighted from the hymn possibly make no sense to us, living as we do in a disenchanted, uninspired world. A world governed by the scientific method where only the observable and provable are to be believed. Where we always want to get going, always on the move – but to where?

We have forgotten how to savour life, linger with something that catches our eye, stop for a moment over a word, watch, listen intently, reflect.

The younger generations among us have never experienced those ways of being human. Is it even possible to enter upon the fully human and spiritual journey if there is no time allowed to let life, like rain, soak into our souls?

It is Pentecost.

And Luke described the experience as “a noise like a strong driving wind…then there appeared tongues as of fire,…”  Are not the images of noise like wind and tongues as of fire just as difficult to wrap our minds around as crystal psalm and flowing light?

I expect some of you, maybe most of you, think I am making little sense today. But consider.

Might a pathway to ending our divisions and our inability to even talk civilly to each other be found in inexpressible beauty?

Might the anger seething in our young men who express themselves through the indiscriminate murder of children, minorities, and immigrants be channeled by grappling with the poetic of life; balancing strength and tenderness as did the great Japanese Samurai warriors who also knew the intricacies of the “tea ceremony”.

Might reflecting over puzzling and contradictory images open pathways for us to slow down,  savour life, and stop us from seeking power over others, so as to open us to the fullness of compassion?

Yes, I expect I am not making a lot of sense today.

But it is Pentecost. When people speak about God in languages they can’t possibly know or themselves understand. When Jesus reminds us we don’t know everything. When people from all over the world clearly understand God is among them. And Paul places in our midst on this glorious Easter Day – the cross; for to be glorified with Christ we must suffer with Christ.

Confused? Not a bad place to be if you want to enter the spiritual life.

So I challenge you to take the hymn home and live with the images of the hymn. Reflect on them. Let them stymie and bewilder you. Allow the Spirit with “scent–filled air and salving calm reach through the lattice of love…” for you.