ENLIGHTENMENT, JUSTICE AND JOY . . . OH, MY!

A Sermon for the Feast of Pentecost

O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in (Her) holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. AMEN
(A Collect for Pentecost, The Book of Common Prayer, p. 227 or 175)

Carol practiced law and social work. She loved to play the piano. She was known and respected in the greater community. And one day, she became the new assistant rector at my church. But even though I was the chair of stewardship ministry and a member of the vestry, I did not see Carol coming, nor was I happy about it. You see, I did not speak womanpriest.

Carol happened to follow my friend John. He was the person after whom my baby boy was named. So, when John left our church in Evanston, Illinois for a church in Chevy Chase, I was bereft, comfortless. One day the rector took me to lunch and said, “Good news! We have a new assistant, and HER name is . . . ” After the word “her,” I was lost in translation. I did not see her coming. I had not seen those words in the Book of Common Prayer, words in italics, words like him and brother, which could now also be changed to her and sister.

A little more than thirty years ago it became legal in our church for a parish to have a priest who happens to be woman. Our Church canons, our laws, had just been changed back in those good, old days. Episcopalians had voted, and it was official: women and men could now be priests, even bishops! But most of us, including me, had never even heard of a woman priest, let alone seen one. I literally did not see Carol or any woman priest coming.

Now, all these years later, I see that I had not yet seen the light. Back then, before my enlightenment, I did not see or know that, when the day of Pentecost, that ancient Jewish feast first came, the Holy Spirit descended upon more than a hundred people, women and men alike. These faithful people had gathered together, waiting for something to happen. Their master and friend, their teacher Jesus had left them, ascending into heaven. But before he left, he promised them that God would send another friend, another advocate, to be with them forever. “This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because,” as Jesus told his disciple friends at that Last Supper – and allow me to change the pronoun here – “it neither sees her nor knows her . . . ” (John 14:16-17).

Part of my seeing the light, part of my spiritual enlightenment was to learn that the word used for God’s Holy Spirit is a feminine noun in both Latin (pneuma) and Hebrew (ruach ). As God changed my made-up mind, my mind began to descend into my heart. As I began to experience what it was like to have women seminarians and professors and priests all around me, all the time, I also began to see that I needed to learn a new language. In addition to my own native man-language, I learned something of the language women speak. Most Americans speak one language, and we expect others to learn our own. But now I wanted to learn how a woman speaks, in the words of Carol Gilligan, in her own voice. I wanted and needed to learn how to speak the ancient language of the Holy Spirit – not just in the masculine but also in the feminine. And I am still learning, ever more deeply, how the Holy Spirit, as we say in our Prayer Book Catechism, is “God at work in the world and in the Church even now” (p. 852). Little did I know back then that God would be at work in me to such a depth and breadth, that I would marry a woman who happens to be a priest.

The story of my journey from Evanston to Frederick, is, I believe, classically Christian. It is a journey from the tower of Babel to the upper room at Pentecost, and it is a story about learning a new language. The story of Babel, from which we get the word “babble,” is, simply put, a story of cultural difference. “Now the whole earth had one language and the same words,” the story begins today (Genesis 11:1). God saw this nice, homogeneous community, everyone packaged in the same kind of way, all bent on building a stairway to heaven, so they can be known as God’s very special people. “Let us make a name for ourselves,” they say proudly, “otherwise, we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” (11:4). But God, as usual, has other plans.

“Cultural diversity,” a Lutheran professor suggests, “is the consequence of God’s design for the world, not the result of God’s punishment of it. In this story (of Babel) the people desire uniformity (one language), and God desires diversity” (Ralph Klein, Feasting on the Word, p. 7). Babel symbolizes what we Americans call “rugged individualism” and autonomy, the kind of independence that, when we are not listening to God, can so easily lead to exclusivity and domination. A people of one language, one way of speaking and thinking, can become a people deathly afraid of any kind of difference and diversity. Babel is not all bad. But Babel is also the beginning of injustice. It makes people think they can condemn other people. It makes confusion and enemies and even wars.

Then there is the story of Pentecost. Pentecost, what was essentially the birthday of the Christian church, is a story of theological diversity. God the Holy Spirit comes to all, not just to some, not just to a few guys in the inner circle of power. For an instant, we get a glimpse of God’s power and glory in its fullness. We see how everyone is seen and understood. For an instant, we see and hear how more than one hundred women and men are suddenly speaking foreign languages. And not just any foreign language, mind you. They are speaking the native languages of immigrants who have come from all over the Roman Empire. They speak, “not in the language of empire, but in the language of the people subject to empire” (ibid., p. 17). These foreigners, these immigrants have come to Jerusalem, their spiritual home, for this special feast day called Shavuot. It is the celebration of the giving of the Torah, the birth of the chosen people of God. And now, contrary to any desires the followers of Jesus might have to create an exclusive, cozy little club, God makes the Divine desire known. God chooses to send the Holy Spirit to inspire all of God’s people, to teach and enlighten all of their hearts, in different ways, in no matter what language. In fact, God’s Spirit has a job for each person to do . . . and who else but God can say who can do what?

My little story of enlightenment, and our bigger story as Episcopalians is, in the words of today’s collect, a story of how God “taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of (God’s) Holy Spirit . . . ” But once we learn to speak the language, is that enough? Is it enough to see how God’s Spirit gives us “a right judgment in all things”? Is it enough to see the light, or do we have to do something about that light, to make something right?

I don’t know about you, but I believe the Episcopal Church does do some things right. We still have much to learn from God’s Holy Spirit of truth. But we have learned a bit and are still learning more about what it means for God’s Spirit to enlighten all God’s people. We say we believe that “all means all,” yet we know that we still need to listen to that painful question, “What part of ALL do you still not understand?” We are still working out our own salvation. We still need to see and hear God’s desire for us to be in relationship with those who speak a different language. We still need to learn how to open our hearts to those who are different from us in race, gender, class, age, sexual orientation or ethnic origin. We Episcopalians still sin, and we still need to seek forgiveness from others and from our God.

And sometimes, forgiveness is not enough. Sometimes, we also need a “right judgment,” as today’s collect calls it. Sometimes, we also need justice. Sometimes, when someone says, “I’m sorry I made that sexist remark,” we need to say, “Thank you for your apology. I forgive you. But that’s not good enough. Our good and righteous God also wants justice, and so do I.” Sometimes we need that person to change their behavior. “So, I need to you to change that behavior from now on. No more sexist remarks. And not just around me.” The hardest part is this: sometimes, we need to change our behavior, individually and even as a church and a society. Like changing ordination canons . . . or employment practices . . . or immigration laws.

When we do those things, when we move from listening to learning, from creed to deed, from forgiveness to justice, then and only then, sisters and brothers, will we – again in our collect’s words – “evermore rejoice in (the Holy Spirit’s) holy comfort.” God’s Spirit will comfort us and challenges us and empower us to do what is right. But we may not see it coming. And that’s all right, because those disciples in that Upper Room didn’t see it coming, either.

At Pentecost “a cacophony of voices becomes a chorus of praise” (ibid, p. 16). Suddenly diversity is a good, even a God, thing. Suddenly harmony is more beautiful than melody. And then, babble becomes communication, which becomes community, which becomes communion. My friends, Roman or Anglican, Eastern or Western, Northern or Southern – it won’t matter anymore. One day, some day there will be rejoicing in heaven at all the rejoicing here on earth. One day, some day the Holy Spirit of God will REALLY have her way with us. One day, some day we may not see what’s coming, but we will speak a new language. We will see the light to do what’s right, with power and in joy.

Enlightenment, justice and joy – oh, my!