SERMON PREACHED BY
THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR
CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA
ON THE DAY OF PENTECOST
30 MAY 2004
"All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit
and began to speak in other languages,
as the Spirit gave them ability." (Acts 2: 4)
From time to time, in this and other pulpits, I have held
forth on topics about which I have had little
knowledge or even no knowledge at all. Such, I suppose, is the
inherent presumption of the preacher.
Among my most egregious errors in this regard was in the field
of literature, when, some thirty years
ago, I attributed to William Shakespeare the words: "How
do I love thee? Let me count the ways?"
An English teacher at the west door had three words for me instead
of "Good morning." She simply
said: "Elizabeth Barrett Browning." A few weeks ago,
in my sermon on Good Shepherd Sunday, I got
a failing grade in zoology when I suggested that sheep had paws.
A knowledgeable parishioner
whispered to me after church that members of the ovine genus
in fact have hooves. Last week, I told
a story about a man who, while changing the tire on his car,
lost the bolts he had removed from the
flat tire. Ron Flucker later told me that the lost items are
in fact called lug nuts, a startling revelation
to someone whose idea of changing a tire is to call AAA on his
cell phone.
Today, undaunted, I venture out into a field about which
I plead unmitigated ignorance --- physics!
Specifically, I would like to talk to you about the difference
between centrifugal force and centripetal
force. Centrifugal force is, according to my research, "the
experience of an inertial force in a rotating
reference frame acting away from the center of rotation."
Centrifugal force is what happens in the spin
cycle in your washing machine. When you open the lid, you will
see that all of the clothes have been
repelled to the perimeter of the washtub. Centripetal force,
on the other hand, "causes an object to
move in a circle, acting toward the center of the circle."
For example, gravity is the centripetal force that
attracts a satellite closer to the object it orbits.
What does this have to do with Pentecost? One theologian
has suggested that the spirit of man is
centrifugal. Predicated on pride, it separates humankind, whereas
the spirit of God is centripetal.
Predicated on unbounded love, it unites humankind. Jesus, as
Scripture reminds us, "draws all human
beings to himself." Today is the Feast of Pentecost, and,
if we may use the language of Hollywood, we
can say that the Tower of Babel story in the 11th chapter of
Genesis is the negative prequel to that Feast.
You remember the story. Everybody spoke the same language. They
decided to build a city with a tower
that reached to the very heavens, and in so doing, to make a
name for themselves, and to make themselves
equal with God. Seeing the ramifications of such a course of
action, God confuses their speech so that
they cannot understand each other, so that when they spoke, they
could only babble (yes, that's where the
word comes from). Here, pride separates humankind --- centrifugal
force at work.
Today's lesson from the Book of Acts tells quite the opposite
story. We see God's centripetal force at
work. In Pentecost, the Spirit empowers each member of the community
to speak in a variety of human
languages so that all kinds of people are able to hear about
God's saving grace. All those folk from the
uttermost parts of the earth ---Parthians, Medes, and Elamites
et al. --- who spoke different languages,
nevertheless could be understood by one another. We've heard
a lot about speaking in tongues. It is
called glossolalia, in some Christian communities, a sign
of the true believer, which is the ability to speak
in nonhuman languages of prayer or praise. The idea is that the
speaker utters words unintelligible to his
fellow worshippers but understandable to God's ears. That's not
what happened at Pentecost. What the
disciples engaged in there was what theologians call xenolalia,
the gift to speak in foreign, human languages.
They spoke in words intelligible both to their fellow disciples
and to God.
My friends, I am becoming more and more convinced that the
Church needs a new Pentecost. I think we
need for the Holy Spirit to come down with tongues of fire, and
enlighten us all over again. Why?
Because evidence seems to be pointing to the fact that we in
the church today are more like babbling
Christians than Pentecostal Christians. Even within the Episcopal
Church, we speak different languages.
It's gone beyond the differences that were present when the greatest
divisions of our Church were among
the 'low and lazy,' the 'broad and hazy' and the 'high and crazy.'
It's not simply that some say "Holy
Communion," others say "Eucharist" and a few people
say "Mass." It's more fundamental than that. An
example is when in a conversation a priest begins a sentence
with "When I became a Christian in college . . ."
The question that immediately comes to my mind is "Did life
from your baptism, through Sunday School
and into adulthood count for nothing? Was that a heathen period?"
Communication is impaired, too, when
someone announces that he or she was saved on a particular day.
We who cannot identify with such a
Damascus Road experience are suddenly made to feel inadequate.
Unequivocal statements like "The Church
has always taught" and "the clear, unvarnished word
of Scripture has been" are also show-stoppers. There is
no topic about which the Church (whoever/whatever that is) has
been unanimous and unchanging in thinking
for two millennia. And there is nothing in Holy Scripture about
which there has been universal agreement.
Why is it so difficult for people to believe that Revelation
is an ongoing process and that the Holy Spirit has
promised to lead us into all truth?
I guess the question we should ask ourselves is: Are our
statements about the Faith centrifugal or centripetal?
Do they repel people to the perimeter of the washtub, wrung out
and wrinkled, or do they attract them to the
center, on course and intact? William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury
during World War II, rightly
observed that the church is the only institution that exists
primarily for the benefit of those not its members.
Yet that same church has historically made far more statements
about who should be kept out, than it has about
who should be brought in.
A debate has raged in the press in recent weeks about a few
Roman Catholic bishops who have indicated that
they would refuse to give communion to Roman Catholic politicians
who are pro-choice. At least two problems
come to mind here: the first is that it makes a litmus test out
of one moral issue among many. Should abortion
be singled out while issues such as capital punishment, cloning
or human sexuality are ignored? Second, such
a policy fails to impose sanctions on low-profile members of
the church who share the same views as the
politicians, but whose opinions are unknown. Does an anti-Roman
Catholic bias lurk deep in the psyche of
America? It is interesting that forty years ago, the fear about
the Roman Catholic candidate for President was
that he would be controlled by the Vatican. Today, aspersions
are being cast on the Roman Catholic candidate
because he won't be so influenced. By the way, an article in
the Post-Gazette that asked the question of "how
good a Catholic" the presumptive Democratic nominee would
be prompted our own Karen Kapsanis to write
an excellent letter to the editor raising the question of how
good a Methodist the incumbent is, citing, for
example that the Methodist Church asked the Administration not
to wage war in Iraq, and that the Methodist
Church has consistently denounced military activity there. But
we digress.
This morning, we bring into the Body of Christ three beautiful
infants --- Emma, Katherine and Ignatius.
Some Christians object to infant baptism, because they believe
that a person should make a commitment
to Christ when he or she is old enough to fully understand what's
going on. People object, too, because
they think we --- parents, clergy and the like --- are imposing
our beliefs on the unwitting child. But if
we look carefully, we are imposing very little. We ask
they will seek and serve Christ in all persons,
and strive for justice and peace. And when they have been
washed at the font, we will ask God's Holy
Spirit to sustain them, and to give them an inquiring and
discerning heart, and the courage to will and
to persevere, a spirit to know and to love God, and the gift
of joy and wonder in all God's works. We
are not imposing anything. We are entrusting these children to
God's care, knowing that from the time
we seal them with the sign of the Cross in baptism until the
time we trace the same Cross in dust at the
time of their burial, they will ever be works in progress.
Let us pray that they and we who present them in faith may
truly be centripetal Christians, able to
communicate to all, across lines of tribe, race and clan, not
pushing others to the perimeter, but
welcoming them into the bosom of the Christian community.
Let us pray:
A new creation comes to life and grows
As Christ's new body takes on flesh and blood.
The universe restored and whole will sing 'Alleluia!
[John Geyer, "We know that Christ is raised and dies
no more," The Hymnal 1982, 296.]