Paul Walker, “He’s Speaking My Language”

Today is Pentecost. What is Pentecost, you ask? Not really in the common parlance, is it? “Pente” means 50.  50 days after Easter – Pentecost - the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples and the church was born. By that, I mean, people were moved by the Spirit and empowered the Spirit to tell the world about the Good News of God’s grace. That is what the church is about – or at supposed to be about.

     And what is the Holy Spirit? The Holy Spirit is Jesus Spirit of love and compassion for sinners and strugglers and those who have cut themselves shaving. In other words, all of us here who are in some kind of need. At least that is what I’m assuming because you bothered to show up for church to hear that Good News of God’s grace. 

     Pentecost might be a new term for you. People call Pentecost the Birthday of the Church. All kinds of new terms have been coined in the pandemic: zoombombing for when your cat crashes your meeting Blursday for the feeling that one day runs into another, Doomscrolling for the endless obsession over the grim internet news.  Of course, people have enjoyed drinking their Quarantinis at an alarming rate, and the Freshman 15 has turned in to the Pandemic 30. 29 pounds is the average amount of weight gained during Covid. That might make you feel better about yourself, I don’t know.

     Speaking of the pandemic, there is big news here in Virginia from our Governor. Most all restrictions will be lifted at the end of May. And there is all big news from our Bishop here in the Diocese of Virginia. We can come back to church with no masks, and no sign ups, and no social distance!  ou can sit jam smashed in your pew with other people, you can kneel side by side at the communion rail, you can stand up and sing your heart out. It’s been 15 months since we’ve been together in Christ Church!  June 6th – our first Sunday back – will feel like a rebirth day, for sure.

     How do you feel about these announcements from on high? Some of us feel liberated by the easing of restrictions. Others of us feel nervous. It’s been so long, some of us don’t quite know how to feel about being in a crowd of people.  Yesterday I shook hands with a man who said that was his first handshake since last March. So I shook it again! Many of us have just plain forgotten how to socialize. 

     Others of us feel confused. Wait, when do I wear my mask and not wear my mask? And what about children? And what if I’ve had it?  All of us are still trying to figure out the rules, constantly adjusting and readjusting to the new norms, which change again once they start actually feeling like norms. Pivot is popular pandemic word – one that I’m quite sick of! So, are we really done pivoting?

     I’m sure people are not done with judging each other about our various responses to the pandemic. We are not unlike the insects in this Onion Article about the return of the cicadas. Upon their reemergence, other insects said, “Wow, hope you had a nice 17 years off,” expressing annoyance over being forced during the absence to torment humans on their own. “You certainly look refreshed—that was some break, huh? 

     “Us? Well, we’ve stayed busy flying into people’s eyes and ears, biting everyone. We sure could have used your help, but don’t worry, it’s cool. I mean, it wouldn’t have killed you to pop in a few times over the past 17 years. No worries, though. We covered for you. Oh, I see—now that you’re finally back, you’re just going to lie around and mate? You know what? Screw you guys.” 

     Well, whether you are a wasp that has been flying around since last March, or a cicada who is just now reemerging, Pentecost assures us that God speaks directly to you. When somebody really gets us, we tend to say “She’s speaking my language.” Or when we see a work of art or hear a song that goes straight to where we really live, who we really are, we say “Wow, that really speaks to me.”

    Well, guess what? That’s exactly what the Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—said! Whoa – they are speaking my language!

     That’s what happened when the disciples were gathered together 50 days after Easter and the Holy Spirit descended on them with rushing wind and tongues of fire. They began to speak in all these different languages! But it wasn’t gibberish – they were speaking, as the scripture says, “in the native language of each.”

     Everybody needs to be spoken to in his or her own language. Fun fact of the day – did you know that even Orcas speak their own language? Not just Orcas as a species, but different pods of Orcas speak a peculiar kind of Orca language to one another. The pod in New Zealand speaks differently than the pod in Norway. This might be helpful information for you the next time you run into a pod of Orcas. Don’t just assume that because you know Orcan, you can speak it to every killer whale out there.

     What these disparate – and perhaps desperate - people heard in their own languages on the day of Pentecost is the very thing that we need to hear today – the news of God’s power and grace. And you need it in your own language – in a way that you can personally understand. Right now, you need to know that God loves you personally, and that even if you were the only person on earth, Jesus would have taken your place on the cross. I’m talking to you – at least I’m trying to. 

     But I can’t really do it exactly right. In fact, no preacher can. That’s why we trust the Holy Spirit to make it real for you – whether you are a wasp, a cicada, an Orca, of just you, needing to hear the grace of God in your own language. 

     I’ll close with a brief story from Paul Zahl, my mentor – the one who made God’s grace personal for me. He spoke my language. He recalls being a lost young adult – and also a seminarian – who was looking for a God to “speak to him.”

In January of ’73 I had started a joint degree at Harvard Law School and Harvard Divinity School. The future was open-ended, to say the least. I did have one glowing asset — the affection and support of Mary Cappleman. When she and I were together, I felt far from alone.

The key issue for me was God, and Jesus. Who were They? Or better, who are They? I was on a primary, personal religious search. Moreover, I was serving as “seminary intern” in Church of Our Saviour, Arlington, MA, just north of Cambridge. It was a small parish, but with a nice inner core of people. The rector seemed tired but was kind to me.

I preached the main service on Palm Sunday, which was an honor. The sermon was pretty pathetic, looking back on it now, but somehow it got the attention of the old Senior Warden. Long dead now, his name was John Fallon. After the sermon — during which I could see that Mary was wearing a bright yellow dress — Mr. Fallon rushed up and said, “Now that is what this church needs. This church needs Jesus Christ.”

     The Holy Spirit made Paul’s sermon real. In the end, Jesus found Paul Zahl, the preacher of the sermon that so moved Mr. Fallon. And Mary and Paul found each other (and had three wonderful sons, by the way). And on this Pentecost Sunday, I pray that God will speak your language and will find you.

     Amen.