May 24, 2026 – Pentecost
Joel 2.28-32a
Acts 2.1-13
Earth, Wind & Fire
Pentecost
The pilgrims came from the west, the north and the east. There are three major festivals they celebrate every year, celebrations that draw people from around the region. To the west they came from Libya, Crete and Rome; to the north they came from Cappadocia, Phrygia and Pamphylia; to the east they came from Mesopotamia, Media and Elam. Some came from as far as Parthia, more than eight hundred miles away. It was festival time in Jerusalem, one of three “pilgrimage festivals” the Jews observed every year. This one was the Feast of Weeks, Shavuot, commemorating the giving of the law, the torah, from God to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Because it occurs fifty days after Passover, it was called Pentecost. It was an annual ritual, and many of the pilgrims in Jerusalem that day had made the trip multiple times. They would go to the temple, make their offerings, hear the story of Moses at Mt Sinai, reaffirm God’s covenant with them, and then return to their respective towns and cities.
The pilgrims came from the west, the north and the east. There are two major festivals they celebrate every year, celebrations that draw people from around the region. To the west, they come from Cedar Lake Road, Winthrop Road and Butter Jones Road; to the north, they come from Wig Hill, Liberty Street and Kings Highway; to the east they come from Dock Road, Ferry Road and Railroad Avenue. Some come from as far away as Old Lyme, more than eight miles away. It is festival time in Chester, one of two civic festivals we celebrate every year. The two festivals, of course, are Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day, when a couple hundred folks gather for remembrance, for solemn observance, for patriotic tribute, and for celebrating community together. We come to the festivals with flags and pipes and drums and speeches and prayers, people of all ages. Weather permitting, we will do it again tomorrow at 10:00 am. Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day are among my many favorite parts of being minister of the United Church, in part because we widen our experience of what it means to be in fellowship with one another. And on a related note, those of you who were present at Jimmy Zanardi’s service on Friday saw the same factors at work, of remembrance, of solemn observance, and a celebration of life shared by what had to be more than two hundred members of our wider community. It was a real honor to stand with so many of you that day as well.
But the Jerusalem pilgrimage was about to be disturbed by something no one experienced before. Luke tells the entire story in an economical four verses:
“When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”
The rest of Luke’s story of Pentecost details the reaction of the pilgrims to the Pentecost moment, but let’s sit with what happened for a moment before we get there.
Ten days earlier, Jesus had left the disciples on their own when he ascended into heaven. But he left them with a promise: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” It is unlikely any of the disciples understood what Jesus was talking about in that moment, all they knew is he left them standing there gazing up into the skies and wondering what was going to happen to them. How could they continue Jesus’ ministry without Jesus? Should they all just go back to their homes and careers? On the day of the feast, we find them sitting in someone’s house, struggling to come to a decision, to ask the questions, “What now? What’s next?”
A breeze brushed the window curtain back. It quickly gained strength, and a rush of violent wind startled them, disciple and pilgrim alike. The earth trembled. Tongues of fire filled the sky. They ran outside, and suddenly both the Jerusalem disciples and pilgrims from across the middle east were shouting to one another, each in their own language, and yet they could all understand what the other was saying. We heard the international roster of pilgrims; in addition to the ones I already listed there were citizens of Pontus and Asia and Egypt and Arabia in Jerusalem for the festival And though their tongues, their languages were many and diverse, they understood as one.
In that moment, as tradition and faith and history tell us, the Church of Jesus Christ was created. Born of many peoples, languages, nations, tongues and races. As our Associate Conference Minister, The Rev. Leslie Jackson put it, “The birth of the church was multilingual, boundary-crossing, and disruptive to the status quo. The Holy Spirit declared in real time that God’s love, power and presence were not reserved for one people, one language, one culture or one way of being.”
It is not too much of a stretch to understand Chester’s Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day observances, as a kind of Pentecost writ small. We are not Elamites and Parthians and Romans and Medes, but we do come from different neighborhoods, from different socio-economic backgrounds, some of us are parents and grandparents, many in the crowd are kids, some people have their own businesses, many more are retired, we have different opinions about how we want to be governed, some are deep into community life and others just come out for the parades, and on these civic festival days we all speak a similar language, we hear the same songs we could sing from memory, and we regard one another with neighborly custom and care. We find harmony in our diversity, as much as our region may be called diverse, and we put aside whatever differences we might have to celebrate something greater than ourselves.
I like the vision of the wind and fire that grace the earth in this morning’s readings. The wind is the Holy Spirit, the hagia pneuma, the Holy Wisdom, the hagia sophia we spoke about two weeks ago. It breathes the breath or spirit of God into our own spirits and equips us for faith and service. The tongues of flame are the sparks that light a fire under us, that ignite the love and compassion deep within the human spirit, and compel us to burn for justice and understanding and righteousness. That Pentecost moment in Jerusalem could have been a disaster: thousands of pilgrims startled by the rush of wind and the flames appearing from out of nowhere, people shouting out in their own languages and getting ready to flee in every direction. But in that moment they realized they could understand each other, and suddenly they were not pilgrims any longer, they were not aliens or foreigners in some strange land, but rather they were witnesses and participants in something brand new into which God was drawing them. As Leslie put it, “People from different nations cultures and languages heard the good news in their own voice… It was noisy. It was unpredictable. It was public. It was innovative. It was disruptive. And the Spirit is still moving that way.”
I couldn’t help but notice that this morning’s story of the birth of the church begins and ends with fire. In verse 3, “Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue [of flame] rested on each of them.” And then when we get to Peter’s interpretation of all they had just experienced, we hear the words of the Old Testament prophet Joel, “I will show portents in the heavens and on the earth, blood and fire and columns of smoke… Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” We’ve come full circle, from flame to fire. Very often the biblical image of fire represents purification; the prophet Malachi wrote about the cleansing and purifying nature of fire in a passage we know from Handel’s Messiah: “But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth? for he is like a refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap…” But in the story of Pentecost, I think a better image is the capacity of fire to spread quickly, especially when it is propelled by the holy wind of the spirit.
The church of Jesus Christ grew by leaps and bounds in the days and weeks following Pentecost. Because what did all those Parthians and Medes and Elamites and all the rest do when the festival was over? They went back to their homes and told their families and neighbors the incredible story of what happened to them in Jerusalem. Here is how the story ends in the final verses of Acts chapter two:
“Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.”
The initial success of the church was marked by living in shared community. They gave what they had to those who needed it, they shared their tables with one another, and they saw to it that no one did without. This is why I say that our coming together in civil community is like a Pentecost moment writ small, because these are the habits and generous behaviors that are reflected in both. When we share what we have and who we are with others, so that no one goes without, we are being the church without necessarily having to speak God’s name at all. To quote Leslie Jackson one more time, “The Spirit is still speaking. The Spirit is still unsettling. The Spirit is still creating new possibilities… The Spirit is still breathing life into weary communities and raising new voices for a new season. The question is not whether the Spirit is moving. The question is whether we are willing to move too.”