Richard Bollman, S.J.

"Pentecost 2008"

Scripture. Acts 2:1-11; 1 Cor 12:3-13; John 20:19-23

In his book called "Acts" Luke portrays the Spirit’s Descent as an even in the community that lead right away to a public declaration of the meaning of Christ among us, risen and empowering. The power is manifest in the great gathering of people, all nations symbolized in the great number of languages. They hear, and their hearts change. Paul’s letter to Corinth indicates what a burst of new and gifted life the community experienced among itself, once they trusted and began to live by faith. This is a manifestation of the Spirit in the most local terms, in the local Church. Even more intimate is the "Pentecost" story of John’s Gospel, which occurs on Easter itself, a breathing of Spirit from Jesus’ own mouth, and an invitation to become a community of courage, forgiveness, and mission.

Each year brings its own new realization of this event, its enduring waves of empowerment, its intimacy among us.

Homily:

Yesterday we celebrated the funeral of Nancy Danahy,

on the Vigil of Pentecost, here in the Chapel.

I’m sure some of your know her from her presence at the Eleven,

and some of you were here yesterday.

Nancy was a long time teacher of the hearing impaired,

and before that a counselor at Fort Scott.

But what I want to reflect on is a remark I heard afterward about the event.

It went like this: "Isn’t it something that a single woman of 74,

an only child, no children of her own, no nieces or nephews,

and yet here is a full church at her funeral."

It was a crowd of people who somehow felt nurtured by her.

This is a fruitful thing to contemplate at the end of Eastertime,

and especially on this Mother’s Day, and on Pentecost itself.

There is a power in human beings to bring life to people.

It transcends our roles as mother or father, wife or husband.

It is a gift both human and divine.

This is the purpose of a faith community, whether large or small.

Like the group in the upper room on Easter,

we’re all a bunch of individuals, wounded in our different ways,

gifted in our different ways,

and this most wonderful gift given to us together here

is the breath of life, the breath of Spirit through Jesus.

We are here for the sake of our rebirth in that breath.

And its immediate power is given for the sake of forgiveness,

for gathering the community, in reconciliation and in mission.

They go together: our power to heal and save, and our willingness to forgive.

You know that power in your own history, you know you have it,

even children have it, and you can see it happen among them

maybe on the playground or the lunchroom.

And you can see the opposite: accusations and ridicule.

Expecting the worst of one another.

So I think that as you gradually want to use you power

to affirm, to forgive, and to give life,

you are coming to know God, getting a sense of Christ’s body among us.

That is the direction of that flow of breath: toward forgiving and gathering:

that’s where the new birth wants to show itself.

Even to turn this gracious regard toward ourselves. That’s the frontier!

I recognize in my own story, long long patterns of self criticism,

efforts to succeed in graduate school, in ministry,

in social contacts: putting out the image,

and yet there are these old habits of wondering

whether you are worth other people taking time for you.

That was one of the hardest stumbling blocks of teenage years

as I remember: summed up in the classic problem of going to the prom.

"Hey, you wouldn’t want to go out with me, would you?"

It’s taken me decades of life to LEAN INTO the capacity

to deeply respect myself, and then to encourage people.

To want to do that. It takes conscious choosing.

My nieces and nephews gave a party for my 70^th birthday:

and for just a moment there, driving over, I felt worried,

could I sustain their interest, could I handle being celebrated.

I had to talk myself down from nervousness:

"surely the family on the other side of that door

has come not out of obligation, but because they’ll be glad to see me."

So you go in, you plunge forward, and it’s "Peace be with you."

That’s what they give, in the blur of conversation and stories,

peace, the breath of life.

So this is what I recommend to you on this soft and quiet Pentecost.

It may not always be easy, but let yourself be blessed by love,

by your care for one another.

Move quietly toward that gift, that breath, that forgiveness.

This is the long story of our rebirth, gradually coming to expect

what is best for us, giving what is best for others.

It can be a shock. We cry out, not sure what’s going to be next.

Making that call, entering that room.

Like a baby making that first journey to this world

out of the security of the mother’s womb.

"But don’t worry little guy. You are here where you belong,

Otherwise your limbs would never grow, you’d never walk."

That is what we’re here for, learning to walk,

learning to affirm and give life, to recognize the breath of Spirit,

that wisdom and reverence for people.

To forgive, and to be forgiven.

Than in our death we’ll be surrounded by the people

to whom we’ve given life,