Sunday 31 May 2009 Pentecost : Melanie

Picture the scene :
I was in Cairo –
a student on placement.
It was a wonderful summer evening.
Clergy from across the diocese had gathered – this was their final evening.
Tables were set ; wine served ;
the bishop was in good spirits.
I had been persuaded to give an impromptu clown performance.
All went well –
I even managed a clown portrait of the bishop.
Face still painted,
hair sprayed bright green,
I headed off to my digs.
‘Wait’ someone shouted.
‘Don’t go’ – I hesitated,
I had no more material for an encore.
‘Can you come to our youth group?’ he asked in broken English.
Dates, times, locations were established.
‘Just one thing’ he said
‘Can you tell us what it means’
My mouth dropped open.
How could I explain that a clown doesn’t mean anything? that a clown plays, enjoys, but never has an underlying meaning.
I went to the youth group
and I have to confess
invented a theological meaning behind my clown act.

Here we are at Pentecost
faced with that same question
What does this mean?

We can only imagine the scene on that day.
The chaos as crowds gathered ;
The disciples behind locked doors,
terrified of going out for fear of the Jews ;
then the sudden wind, and fire.

No warning, no tell tale signs,
just bang! and lives were changed.

The bewilderment, fear, amazement
as the disciples struggled
to comprehend what was going on.

The new languages, new understanding,
new words, new power.

What does this mean? they asked.
Something so strange,
it was beyond explanation.

First there was the wind,
with a power and energy of its own.
Blowing this way and that,
beyond human control.

Then the fire, red flames jumping,
darting in so many directions.

This was not God as king,
judge, lord.
This was a new side of God,
an edge of God.

God the Holy Spirit
seen through shadows, guesses,
groping in the dark.


The edge of God
that is beyond human language ;
the edge of God
that is seen in the flicker of flame ;
the edge of God
that is felt in the breath of wind ;
the edge of God
that defies human description ;
the edge of God
that changes people in an instant.

No wonder they were amazed
and perplexed
and said What does this mean?

No wonder they struggled to find a language for this experience;
No wonder, 2000 years on we still struggle
to articulate, identify, analyse, those events.

How can we?
How can the human mind
begin to grasp an encounter
with the edge of God.

It’s like trying to grab reflections of sunlight
from a still pond; or gather colours of a rainbow.

Try as we might we cannot control God the Holy Spirit with our minds,
understanding, or language.

Yet how often we try to do just this.
Try to keep our well ordered
straight lines.
Try to maintain boundaries –
keeping them cut, manicured,
with borders that would be the envy of Chelsea.
Spend time snipping and shaping ;
creating elegant peacock shapes,
lions, exotic creatures. So busy are we tending our own neat lives that we fail to notice the breeze, the fire, the glimpse and hint that is the edge of God.

We fail to notice the colourful plant in the corner of the garden; its branches waving wildly in even the smallest breeze, making uncanny noises. Its fruit bright and tasty,
and with healing powers.

Or perhaps we have noticed, but there is something about this edge of God that is too incomprehensible; too other worldly; too out of control for our liking.

We prefer structure, symmetry, order,
human borders rather than God’s borders.

The trouble is unless we sniff the breeze,
touch the fire, we will stay contained,
confined, in our own garden; transformation will always be something that happens to others – to others who have dared to catch a glimpse of the edge of God.

Pentecost offers us a fascinating
new world. The disciples were changed
through their experience that day.
We too can be transformed, changed,
renewed. We too can encounter
the edge of God, and be bewildered, amazed, perplexed, and say to ourselves
What does this mean?