Pentecost

Today's homily

This morning's story begins at Chelmsford cathedral in England in 2013. There are several hundred of us clergy types in this marvellous stone cathedral which has been sensitively, yet exquisitely restored I am at the synod of the local diocese and we begin by singing a hymn ‘O thou who camest from above’, the words of which I have put in the pew sheet. The words of our hymns are very important and many of them have much to teach and to remind us. Some fail in this important task.

The sound bounces around the walls of the cathedral and the organist does flash twiddly bits. And just for a few moments, a few ecstatic seconds, all is as it should be. I am completely absorbed and caught up in an act of worship of the God who loves me. It is a moving, joyous, sublime and yet indescribable experience . It is I imagine, how that first Pentecost, that first coming of the Holy Spirit may have felt for those funny old disciples and Mother Mary all those years ago.

For them, something significant happened and things could not be the same again. Yet outside, the persecutions were still rife and the eucharist was celebrated in secret and in fear.

For us too today, our outside world knows not and cares not. Nothing seems to have changed and nothing seems to be different. The shenanigans of our fearless leaders seem unstoppable, lawyer, lawyer and co are still very much in business and we still experience that struggle as we try to draw away from our dark side. Into the clay of our everyday existence, comes the divine spark of the Holy Spirit to inspire and inflame us. The strength, the understanding that this is not all there is. The power of God which is the Holy Spirit, which is his love descends again and agitates deep within us.

God again taking the initiative in a way that we could never foresee, never comprehend and understand. For those first apostles fear is conquered and sorrow gives way to joy. Instead of being locked in a room with isolation and loneliness for company, their message goes out through all the earth.

But… there is a trap here and the trap is this. That having had such an experience we may be tempted to hunger and search for that same religious ‘high’ and forget why we have today.

• We come because He loves us and He wants us here.
• We come because we know that it is the right thing to do and you do the right thing because it is the right thing and you know it to be the right thing.
• We come because we know that we are sinners and we need forgiveness.
• We come because we want to be with our brothers and sisters in the Lord.
• We come to offer our thanks and our triumphs.
• We come to offer our needs and our praise.
• We come to offer our tears and our mess.
• We come because we want to offer to the world the fruits of the Holy Spirit.

These are not something we can buy at the deli section of the supermarket. To attain these very desirable but necessary fruits takes a lifetime of failing and crafting and much, much courage.

Some things to think about.

First. I began the homily with what I call a ‘Big church’ experience. I should point that I have had far more ‘small church’ experiences of the nearer presence of God. There is a sense of intimacy and closeness where only 2 or three are gathered, that could never be replicated at Chelmsford Cathedral.

Second. After the Holy Holy Holy bit in the middle of the Eucharist, the priest asks the Holy Spirit to descend upon the bread and wine at the altar. The outward action is the priests hands descending over the bread and wine. The flash church word for this moment is the ‘epiclesis’; but the important bit for me and you to remember, is that it is not something the priest does. It is the action of the Holy Spirit. One example of these words is “and we pray that by your word and Holy Spirit we who eat and drink them may be partakers of Christ's body and blood.”

Finally, if I close my eyes and remember Chelmsford, it is almost as if I am right there all over again.

Now if God is truly present in all time and in all places, is it not possible, that in some sense that I am with those people just as surely as I am with you here today? There is a sense in which all our worship, no matter the year, or the place, is one continuous act of loving God, even in our death and especially after our death.

This would make sense of the last verse of the hymn which is a splendid place for me to stop.

Ready for all Thy perfect will,
My acts of faith and love repeat,
Till death Thy endless mercies seal,
And make my sacrifice complete