Scripture Reflection, May 23: Pentecost Sunday

Scripture Readings:
Acts 2: 1-11
Psalm 104
1 Corinthians 12: 3-13
John 20: 19-23

(This homily is to be delivered on Pentecost Sunday at CTU, during one of the special “Sundays at CTU” liturgies. It will follow a presentation and discussion about young adult Catholics and the Church.)

The description of the first Pentecost in the Acts of the Apostles tells us that when devout Jews from many different nations heard the Spirit-inspired proclamation of the gospel by the disciples, “each one heard them speaking in his own language.” The outpouring of the Spirit of God united this very diverse group of people in a powerful moment of God’s self-revelation. But this was a unity that did not eliminate or smother their diversity; rather it honored and preserved the richness of their diversity. Each one heard the proclamation of the good news of Jesus Christ in his or her own language.

As I was thinking about Luke’s account of Pentecost, I was reminded of an experience that I had in Assisi during the week after Easter. I had the opportunity to spend Easter week in Rome with my sister, brother-in-law and a friend. It was a very enjoyable trip. On Thursday of that week, we took the train up to Assisi on a beautiful spring day. Neither my sister nor her husband had ever been to Rome or Assisi, so they were savoring all of the sites. We began our tour of Assisi at the Basilica of Our Lady of the Angels, which contains the Portiuncola, one of the small churches that Saint Francis repaired. It was a favorite church of Francis, and it stands at the heart of the birthplace of the Franciscan movement. Francis died within a stone’s throw of this now beautifully decorated chapel that sits inside of the basilica.

After touring the basilica we noticed that Mass was about to begin in the upper part of the church. An Italian Franciscan priest presided and preached to our little congregation of about twenty people. My Italian is very basic; I can follow the liturgy but I easily get lost after that. This priest gave a very animated – and very lengthy—homily, which I tried mightily to understand. I lost him, however, after the first couple of minutes. I was definitely not hearing him speaking in my own language. Pentecost did not seem to be happening there! But, sitting in front of us, at the end of the pew, was a young Italian mother. She seemed very devout, listening intently to the homily. Her little daughter, probably about seven or eight, sat in a wheelchair in the center aisle. It was obvious that this little girl had some serious developmental disabilities. After the first few minutes of the homily, she became agitated and began to cry out. Her mother just calmly reached out and put her arm around this little girl; she drew her close, caressed her hair and spoke to her very softly. And her little girl became quiet and peaceful. It happened again at a later point in the liturgy; she became agitated and began to cry aloud. And her mother did the same thing – drew her close and calmed her. Her tenderness with her disabled daughter was truly remarkable.

None of us in our little group understood much of the homily that day. But after Mass each one of us commented on the way in which that young Italian mother related to her daughter. Each of us had been riveted by it. She gave us the homily that day, in a language that all of us could understand. She proclaimed the Easter message of the risen Christ to us. I am sure that Saint Francis must have been smiling. In her tender care for her daughter, this young mother spoke the language of the Spirit.

We have just reflected together on the hopes and concerns of young adult Catholics and have listened to the sentiments of some very thoughtful and articulate young adults. It is clear that the knowledge and practice of our Catholic faith has diminished in recent decades among young adults, as it has among people of other age groups. Some younger Catholics are disheartened by what they perceive as the “institutional Church”, especially by the scandals that we read about so often in the newspapers. Others just are not very interested in the practice of faith at this time in their lives. They don’t seem to find inspiration in it; it is not compelling for them.

The reasons for this diminished interest and participation are complex. Too often parents and grandparents blame themselves unnecessarily for the lack of church participation of their children and grandchildren. Such self-reproach does not really get us anywhere. Without devolving into self-blame, or trying to solve a complex problem with simplistic formulas, it is good for us to acknowledge that young adult Catholics need to hear and to see more clearly the “language of the Spirit.” This is the language spoken by that young mother in the church in Assisi, the language of compassion and of faithful care for the most vulnerable of our world. It is the language that we at Catholics on Call read in applications to our conferences for young adults, as we learn about the many forms of service to the poor and marginalized in which these applicants have been engaged. It is the language of committed service, of faithful care, of peacemaking in a violent world, of the willingness to move beyond self-absorption toward self-transcendence.

The language of the Spirit was spoken by the risen Christ to his disciples on the first Easter night. His closest followers were locked away in fear, the breath of life sucked out of them by the horror of Calvary. They had abandoned the one they had come to love at the very time when he was in greatest need. And now, raised up and victorious over death, he comes to them through the locked doors, undeterred by the limitations that human circumstances would impose. His first word to them is a greeting of peace. This is the language of the Spirit. He could have spoken so many other words, like “Where were you when I needed you most.” Instead, his greeting and his presence instill peace and healing in the midst of fear and turmoil. And then he directs these disciples to open themselves to the gift of the Spirit, the Spirit that enables them to receive and to grant forgiveness. As our own Barbara Reid says in commenting on this scene, “it is only through the power of forgiveness that the air can be cleared and all can breathe in the peace for which we so long and that the Risen One desires to give.” As the risen Lord, Jesus gifts his disciples with the Spirit that empowers them to be to the world what he has been. They are sent forth to the world to speak the language of the Spirit, a language of peace, of forgiveness, of generous care and faithful service, of resistance to the forces of evil.

On this Pentecost Sunday, you and I are invited to open ourselves to the presence and power of the Spirit of Jesus, who dwells within us. This is the Spirit who inspires us to proclaim “Jesus is Lord.” This same Spirit enriches us with gifts for service to the Body of Christ. We are sent forth from this liturgy to speak the language of the Spirit with our lips and with our lives. When we do, like that young Italian mother in Assisi, others are able to hear and understand, each in their own language. Others, young and old, are drawn to Christ and to the community of his people. As many of our Catholics on Call participants remind us, the language of the Spirit is not always a popular language in the world today. Often it is barely audible, drowned out by words of indifference, violence, prejudice and greed. And so we need to encourage and support one another in speaking this language of the Spirit of Jesus, the Spirit of the One who laid down his life for us.

We are able to accept this mission to speak the language of the Spirit to our world because of the presence and action of the Spirit in our lives. It is this Spirit who, even in our weakness, empowers us to speak with our lives. The exquisite words of the Pentecost Sequence that we sang before the Gospel celebrate this action of the Spirit within us: “You, of comforters the best; You, the soul’s most welcome guest; sweet refreshment here below; In our labor, rest most sweet; grateful coolness in the heat; solace in the midst of woe. O most blessed Light divine, shine within these hearts of yours, and our inmost being fill.” May the Holy Spirit fill our inmost being and enable us to speak a word of hope to a world in need.

Fr. Robin Ryan, cp

Image from: http://jameswoodward.wordpress.com/2009/05/31/pentecost/

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