I don’t know about you, but I really don’t like having to wait and anticipate what is to come next. Having to wait all summer before getting to see whom Alicia Florick’s next romance is with on the tv show the Good Wife. Having to wait at the dentist’s office before hearing how many cavities the dentist found. Having to wait for results on a school project or exam or for a phone call with the outcome of a job interview.
Having to wait for that scary, unknowable future.
But that is what the disciples of Jesus were called to do at Jesus’ ascension, which we celebrated last week.
They were called to wait.
To wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father to be fulfilled. To wait to be baptized by the Holy Spirit, whatever that means.
So that they might be empowered to be witnesses to the ends of the earth when they are filled with this mysterious Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost.
Now this must have been a difficult task for these first century disciples of Jesus. As we all know, the Ascension is not the first time Jesus just suddenly up and disappears, leaving them feeling possibly scared, abandoned, and powerless.
So it’s no wonder that after Jesus ascends into heaven, the disciples immediately return to Jerusalem and head to the upper room – the same place where they, not long ago, hid behind closed doors after Jesus’ death and resurrection out of fear and anticipation of what was to come.
And it is no wonder that they once again gather all together in that upper room – the place that seems to provide them with some sense of comfort when everything else in their lives seems so uncertain: when they are full of worry and concern over what this Holy Spirit is, what it means to be baptized by it, and what exactly that means for their futures. When they are overwhelmed with grief over the loss of their rabbi yet once again and are concerned about how in the world they are to live as the people of God and be witnesses of Jesus to the ends of the earth, when Jesus – their dear friend and teacher – is now no longer with them to guide them and lead them along the way.
I am sure many of us here can relate to these first century disciples. When our futures seem so unsure, when we cannot sense Jesus’ presence among us, when we just have no clue what God is calling of us or how our lives and relationships might change if we were to respond to that calling, when we are told by others that we are inadequate… and we believe them, when we feel voiceless. Or when we – ourselves – or our loved ones are so overcome with pain and suffering, that we wonder if Jesus has just up and abandoned us, leaving us feeling alone and powerless.
In these times, don’t we – like the disciples 2000 years ago – tend to rush to the places and people that seem comfortable to us and shut the doors to keep anything else out that might shake us up a bit: the unknowns, the potential dangers and criticisms, the sufferings and injustice around us that are too painful or controversial that we would rather ignore and avoid them than acknowledge them?
But for these first century disciples, it is in this moment when they begin to feel comfortable again – as they are gathered close together behind those closed doors in the upper room – when the Holy Spirit shows up. And she doesn’t just show up in the way she sometimes appears to her beloved ones: in her quiet and gentle manner – like a calm summer breeze blowing through the trees and slowly touching and transforming those in her path.
No. Instead, on this day of Pentecost, she comes unexpectedly, loudly and boldly sweeping through the house like a sudden cold Chicago blizzard wind roaring through the tunnels between the high-rise buildings along the lake, knocking her beloved ones off their feet, and pulling them out of their comfort zones.
And, there in that upper room, she brings about divided tongues and fire. And she pours herself out onto all who are present: filling them, empowering them, and lighting their hearts on fire. And these uneducated, disciples from the back-skirts of Galilee begin to speak in languages they have never spoken before – about the deeds and the power of God.
And the noise is so loud and the wind and fire are so powerful, that the pilgrims from many nations wandering about in the Jerusalem streets outside the closed doors to the upper room, hear and understand in their own native tongues what these uneducated Galileans are saying. And they are both amazed and perplexed.
Some overwhelmed with God’s power. And others critical and accusatory.
And then Peter does something unexpected. Peter – the same one who had lacked confidence when Jesus called him to walk on water, the same one who cowardly denied Jesus three times before his crucifixion on the cross – now boldly stands up, and by the power of the Holy Spirit he raises his voice, and begins speaking the words of the prophet Joel, proclaiming that in the last days, the Spirit will be poured out onto ALL of God’s people. Both male and female. Young and old. Slave and free. That this Spirit will empower and equip ALL of the people of God to be prophets – no matter who they are, where they are from, what language they speak, no matter what their circumstances.
As Nadia Bolz-Weber describes it in her sermon at the 2012 Festival of Homiletics: this Pentecost – this event where the good news was first proclaimed by only a few fearful simple-folk from Galilee in the upper room in Jerusalem and then soon-thereafter quickly spread like wildfire – was a holy “Pente-chaos.”
Now, as someone who grew up Presbyterian – in a denomination that often tends to emphasize its order and structure, and doesn’t really respond well to surprises – this kind of “Pente-chaos” and this call on God’s people we see here in our Acts passage that some refer to as the “prophethood of all believers” – leaves me a bit terrified and makes me feel a little uneasy and uncomfortable.
And yet, that is exactly what this “Pente-chaos” is about.
It is about sweeping in when we are too comfortable and moving us out of those places we cling to when we fear the unknowns and try to avoid the pain and injustice around us. It is about empowering us to do the things that so many others – and even sometimes our own systems – have told us we cannot do because of our gender, age, or economic situation, our education status, color of skin, or sexual orientation. It is about equipping ALL of us to be prophets by speaking truth, spreading love, and fighting for justice and equality for all of God’s children.
It is about calling us to continue what Jesus set out to do, which – after his own baptism by the Holy Spirit at the beginning of his ministry – he declares: that the Spirit of the Lord had anointed him to bring good news to the poor, give sight to the blind, proclaim release to the captives, and let the oppressed go free.
The Pentecost is about sending Jesus’ disciples out into the all the world to be witnesses to the ends of the earth – now that Jesus is no longer physically on this earth to do so, himself.
As Ngbarezere, one of our Edgewater Congregations Together youth said in his sermon at the youth-led Ascension Day Service last year: “Jesus said before he ascended: ‘And you will be my witnesses…’ How are we witnesses? With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can be Jesus’ witnesses to all people – to follow in Jesus’ footsteps of loving the oppressed and standing up for justice and equality.”
And as Katie, one of Ebenezer Lutheran’s youth said in her sermon at the Ascension Day service: “No, we’ll probably never physically see Jesus. But we can see the people that represent Jesus. The church community is the first thing that comes into my mind. We all represent Jesus in the good things we do. I mean, we’re not the perfect servants of God. Nobody is perfect. But we see people do good things for other people all the time… As a church community, we help, we serve God and others, too. We pray. We forgive and also ask to be forgiven. That’s just the little part of God inside of us that tells us to do good. So WE are the Jesus of the Earth.”
THIS, my friends, is the heart of the Pentecost. To be the “Jesus of the Earth” – as Katie puts it. To be the hands and feet of Christ in the world.
In the Ascension, Jesus declared that though he will no longer be physically on this earth to preach the good news himself, his work will continue… in and through each one of us. And the Pentecost is where Jesus passes on this important work of God to all of us. In the Pentecost, we can continue to do this work through the power we receive in the Holy Spirit – no matter how fearful and inadequate we may feel.
Jesus did not just leave the early disciples alone, abandoned, and powerless when he ascended into heaven… And he didn’t just leave us alongside those first century disciples, alone and powerless, either. He left all of his disciples with empowerment through the presence and guidance of the Holy Spirit – our Comforter who sometimes makes our lives uncomfortable – so that we, too, can be witnesses of God’s love to the ends of the earth.
I’d like to leave you today with the words of Teresa of Avila:
Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.