This
weekend we celebrate Pentecost, the last of the Great Fifty Days of
Easter. Many of us will wear red, the liturgical color for the Holy
Spirit, as we celebrate the birth of the church and the ministry of the
Holy Spirit. Many worshippers will read portions of Acts 2, which
describes the Spirit becoming manifest in "a sound like the rush of a
violent wind" and "tongues as of fire." According to Luke, the Spirit
empowered the disciples to proclaim the good news in foreign tongues.
No such manifestation
of the Spirit has come my way. I've never spoken in tongues, although a
few times congregants have looked at me as if I had. The ability to
speak a foreign language has come only sparingly and after considerable
effort. Often my experiences of the Holy Spirit have been less like the
disciples and more like those Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and
Mesopotamians; i.e. the Spirit became manifest not in speaking but in
hearing.
That happened
recently on our program staff retreat. One of our saints planned and led
the retreat, leaving me free only to participate. I tried to speak
little and listen a great deal. [You'll have to ask my colleagues
whether I succeeded.] Throughout the day insights came from listening
that I think I would have missed if speaking. I deem those insights
gifts of the Spirit.
Recent studies
suggest that we powerfully activate our brains and form new neural
pathways when we listen carefully to someone with whom we disagree. Some
of you have heard me speak of a clergy colleague whom I love dearly but
with whom I rarely agree theologically and politically. We used to meet
for lunch regularly and whenever we did, I left spiritually stimulated.
Friendship deepened even though we grew no closer on issues, and the
Spirit moved in us both to awaken respect, tolerance, understanding, and
acceptance.
A congregation with
whom I served several years ago faced an issue that threatened to tear
us apart. Our leadership team hosted several "listening conferences"
during which any member of our congregation could address the issue. I
listened carefully and, after each person spoke, made a three or four
sentence summary of that person's comments. When the two of us agreed on
the summary, our secretary recorded it and the team promised to review
it as a part of making our recommendation. By the time the "listening
conferences" had ended, our congregational mood had become calmer and
more hopeful. No decision could please everyone, but it was clear that
we would live into it together. We all identified that transformation as
a blessing empowered by the Spirit.
Poet John Oxenham prays,
Come, occupy my silent place
and make Thy dwelling there.
More grace is wrought in quietness
than any is aware.
As we approach the
final celebration of the season of Easter, let's invite the powerful and
rushing wind of God to dwell in us. Perhaps, by the grace of God, the
manifestation of the Spirit as we listen will provide even more for us
to say, sing, do, and be.
Easter Blessings,
LP
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