I want to start today with a story written by Judy Parker from New Zealand and is titled simply, “The Hat.”
A minister looked up from the Bible on the lectern, cast his eyes over all the hats bowed before him: feathered, frilled, felt hats in rows like faces. But there was one head at the end of the row that was different. What was she thinking, a head without hat? It was like a cat without fur. Or a bird without wings.
That won’t fly here, not in the church. The voices danced in song with the colors of the windows. Red light played along the aisle, blue light over the white corsage of Missus Dewsbury, green on the pages of the Bible, reflecting up on the face of the minister. He spoke to the young lady afterwards: “You must wear a hat and gloves in the House of God. It is not seemly otherwise.”
The lady flushed, raised her chin, and strode out. “That’s the last we’ll see of her,” said the usher.
Later, another day: The organ rang out; the minister raised his eyes to the rose window. He didn’t see the woman in hat and gloves advancing down the aisle as though she were a bride. The hat, enormous, such as one might wear to the races. Gloves, black lace, such as one might wear to meet a duchess. Shoes, high-heeled, such as one might wear on a catwalk in Paris. And nothing else.
What do you think about that story? I have two questions: Is it true? And Did it happen? I would say that this story is absolutely true! But I doubt it really happened. The power of a story resides in the ability of its metaphor to convey truth. Metaphor literally means: beyond words. The story’s metaphor points beyond itself to truth. In this case “The Hat” points us to buck-naked truths about church traditions, worldly power, and how the church just gets it wrong sometimes. It doesn’t matter whether or not it actually happened. What matters is what we can learn about ourselves and our life from the story. The heroine in The Hat shows up in a way that guarantees she will be seen. The metaphor asks: How important is a hat and gloves, or any other tradition that divides and excludes? Her walk down that aisle puts the tight little religious boxes of any time or place on display, declaring boldly that the Spirit of God is out of the box and wearing a hat.
The story of Pentecost should be just as provocative as the story, The Hat. But often we manage to domesticate it by literalizing it and insisting that it actually happened, just as it is described in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles.
What makes something true? Truth is as elusive as it is blatantly obvious and yet we continue to try to deny the paradox of truth. Truth is as colorful as the rainbows that stretch across the sky and yet we continue to try to limit the truth to the simplicity of black and white. All too often truth’s refusal to fit into our neat little boxes causes us to favor a domesticated truth of our own making.
The story of Pentecost is a case in point. For decades historians, New Testament Scholars, and theologians have been telling us that the story of Pentecost is not history. Like all sorts of stories about the origins of things, the story of the church’s birthday is shrouded in myth and legend. That doesn’t make the story of the church’s beginning at Pentecost any less true, it just means that it isn’t history.
A few years ago I was reading a piece written by William Willimon, a professor from Duke University, when I learned that the long list of nationalities represented on that first Pentecost is not only a very diverse ethnic gathering—Medes, Persians, Elamites, Cappadocians, Phrygians—but it is also a historically impossible gathering.
The Medes would have had a tough time getting to Jerusalem from Mesopotmia, not just because they would have had to travel a few hundred miles, but because they would have had to travel a few hundred years as well. You see, the Ancient Median Empire entered into a political alliance with Babylon way back during the Exile. The Medes were absorbed within the Babylonian culture. They had been extinct, long gone from the face of the earth, for over five hundred years.
And those Elamites, they were mentioned back in Ezra 2. But they were also lost in the past, wiped out by the Assyrians, in 640 BC. We are told the story of a gathering of people not only from the north and the south and from all over, but also from the past and the present, from the living and the dead, from all times.
If we were to put Acts 2 into today’s language, we would say something like, “You should have been there with us on Pentecost. The church was packed. Some were from Montana, others from Georgia. There were people from Mexico, and from Nova Scotia, not to mention a whole longboat of Vikings, a couple of Pilgrims, and a nice little Aboriginal couple who asked to be baptized.”
This strange, playful story is a way of saying that, when God’s Spirit was poured out at Pentecost, it was poured out not just on a few but on all… to people of every century and place. The story of Pentecost breaks apart divisions caused by ethnic identity and weakens sectarianism and separation. The vision of God’s inclusive realm goes way beyond nationalities and even beyond time. The Spirit’s rush was greater than any had expected. Peter proclaimed it: God’s Spirit shall be poured out upon all flesh and everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved. It is a universal vision of restoration for all people from all places and times.
The story of Pentecost points to the truth. Jesus had radical ideas about a loving God. The early followers had a new understanding of faith. Empowered by the way Jesus fully embodied love, they felt compelled to share their experience. Faith did not have to be lived out in fear and isolation, even in the face of death. Being faithful was not about being exclusive or tribal, for love knows no boundaries. It wasn’t even about religion or about purity. It was about compassion, healing, justice and an awareness that all of creation is an interconnected web.
The Judaism of the first century was full of boundaries, order, and uniformity. The faithful were encouraged to live within strict rules. Religion defined who was friend and who was foe. It played on their fear of those who were not like them and firmly grounded those fears and their exclusiveness in righteousness. Religion gave people an illusion of living in an orderly and predictable world.
That’s not so different from modern expressions of religion, is it? Has there ever, in all of history, been a time when religious differences haven’t been the cause of wars? What’s been happening in the Middle East right now? Our own nation is as fractured as it has ever been, politically, racially, economically, religiously. We are divided in so many ways. Listening and understanding seem in very short supply.
It’s not the wind or the fire that amazes me about that first Pentecost. It’s the understanding that captures my attention. Those who were gathered together that day were able to speak and listen clearly, across barriers and differences. If there is a lesson for us today in this text that must be it. The Spirit can empower us to set aside our tight little boxes and come together, listen and speak our truth and seek to understand.
The story of Pentecost displays the Spirit of God at work. The followers of Jesus were calling their communities out of the constraints of the religious practices of their day. The Pentecost story reflected the early Christian understanding of Jesus as a leader who didn’t just address the Chosen People but who engaged the Syrophoenician woman, the Centurion, and the Samaritan leper alike. Jesus had inspired a religion that included the poor and the powerless. Christianity was as radical, provocative and outrageous as a woman who wore a hat, gloves, shoes but nothing else.
Pentecost challenges us to welcome the Spirit of God that doesn’t conform to our expectations. Pentecost invites us to see beyond the boxes we make. The Pentecost story reminded those first Christians of Jesus’ call to diversity. The early church was challenged to think beyond tribalism, to dream dreams and see visions.
We are called to a similar awakening.
I think it’s ironically beautiful that we are here today, freed from some of the constraints we have been under since the Pandemic began. We are cautiously singing together again. The fears of this past year are receding. There’s a new wind blowing, finally! What a shame it would be if we just tried to go back to the old ways, fit back into our old boxes. God is continually calling the Church to new things. The Spirit always blows forward not back.
So, what is this wild, provocative God of ours calling us to do? Imagine a Pentecost where we begin to listen to those who we’ve failed to understand before. Imagine having the courage to strip ourselves of the trappings of what has always been, of preconceived expectations and venture out into the world free of the taboos of tradition.
I’m excited to be a part of this congregation and to see where the Spirit is leading this community of faith next. There will be an annual planning process in June. You’ll be getting an invitation to respond with your ideas and visions in writing or in person. I can’t wait to see where we go, what we can accomplish and who we’re going to meet and understand along the way. The Spirit is ready to blow through us here. That’s the promise of Pentecost.
Let us pray: Come Holy Spirit—fill us with your love, empower us to listen and to understand. Show us the needs around and within us so that, filled with your loving presence, we can be your body in this world. Amen.