May 27, 2012 | 8:00 a.m. | Day of Pentecost

Unity amidst Diversity

Kerri N. Allen
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 104:24−34, 35b
Acts 2:1−13

Give us the power to be receptive,
We make this prayer not only for ourselves, but
        for our community at the brink of birth,
        for the church at the edge of life,
        for your whole creation, with which we yearn in eager longing.
We sense the pangs and groans of your newness.
        Come here now in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Walter Brueggemann
“A Prayer for Being Born”

Many of us know this passage because we celebrate Pentecost every year, and frequently we understand it as the birthday of the church.

On this day of Pentecost, everyone was gathered in one place. The Spirit was alive and present, and people were speaking in different languages. Everyone was thunderstruck! Thunderstruck! Their heads were spinning because here in this house a community was gathered together and without any warning, the Spirit rushed in, and suddenly they understood one and other. This is the glorious day that we celebrate as the birth of the church.

Well, we understand these things as true, as an important narrative in our history as one church. But is this birthday celebration the whole of the story, or might God be speaking to us through this text in a very important way today?

A few years back when I was in seminary, I needed to return to Minnesota for a quick trip. Although I was only in town for an extended weekend, I knew that I needed to find time to spend with my godmother, as she had recently lost both her husband and sister. After considering my schedule, I called her, shared I was home, and offered to worship with her that Sunday.

Well, that may not sound too odd considering that at the time I was a seminary student on the path of ordination. Going to Sunday worship is not a big deal, right? Well before we assume that, there is a little more to this story; my godmother Jane is Roman Catholic. And for those who know me, even know me just a little, they probably know how thoroughly Protestant I am; probably know how Reformed I tend to be; and probably even know that, yes, I’m unashamedly Calvinist. So this wasn’t just any random church service; this was a parting from my comfort zone and a demonstration of my love for my godmother.

I grew up in a Catholic city and attended Catholic school. I am familiar with the ritualistic liturgy, the up and down, the genuflecting, the kneeling in reverence to the cross. This morning a few years back, I entered the sanctuary fully prepared for the traditional Catholic mass, fully prepared for the exactly one-hour service, the repetition of prayers, fully prepared for, well, the same old same Catholic mass—well, frankly, fully prepared to be bored.

But as I sat in the sanctuary, something odd happened, and I was not prepared at all for this First Communion worship service. The priests entered the back of the church singing in Latin. So I turned my body to watch the processional. They walked up the aisle: one white priest, one black priest, and a number of black and Latina altar girls. I was struck. This was not what I remembered in Catholic mass. But even more so, at that moment, I noticed that the church was packed. From one end of the pew to the other, there were no seats. And they were filled with black faces, African, Latino, Asian, sprinkled with a white face here and there.

Here in this little Catholic sanctuary, always known as the “black Catholic church of St. Paul,” all were all gathered in one place, packed together in the pews, the most diversity I have ever experienced in worship. And I was thunderstruck.

My amazement continued when two Latino, two black, one Asian, and one African child prepared for their First Communion. As Father Kevin instructed them in their vows, he addressed each child in their primary language. That’s right—this white, middle-aged Catholic priest broke out in a minimum of four different languages. And throughout the worship, liturgy, and scripture readings he frequently interchanged multiple languages.

What is going on here? How was God speaking to me and to the whole of God’s church?

Well, a few things were going on—a few things are going on.

In this moment, in this little St. Peter Claver Catholic Church, this particular passage was instructive for me. I was convicted in my Protestant hubris, yes, but this passage is instructive for all of us as members of the body of Christ.

To understand what I mean, let’s turn back to the text. At this point in our passage, Jesus has proclaimed the coming of the Spirit in the previous chapter before ascending to heaven. He provides no warning about when the Spirit will come. At this time of year, fifty days after the Passover, devout Jews would make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, a celebration prescribed in the Old Testament. So most faithful, the most devout of Jews would come from various corners to gather together in this place.

No, these faithful people are not all from Israel. They don’t all look alike. We can imagine that they come from different Jewish traditions. They don’t even speak the same languages. These Jews are gathered from all over the Middle East and the Mediterranean. From all of these different places they came to be together.

And, without warning it is in this moment that a loud sound, a strong wind, a gale force—the Holy Spirit—rushes in! The force was so strong that everyone was running to see what was going on! The force was so strong that it caused a commotion and everyone started speaking. Everyone started speaking in their own languages, representing their own countries, manifesting their own diversity.

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the sounds from so many languages, they all understood one another. In the midst of their diversity they were unified by the power of the Holy Spirit; they understood one another. It is this moment when, like a wildfire, the Holy Spirit spread through the room and community of all of the Jews gathered in one place. It is this moment that Jesus’ prophecy is realized; it is in this moment that the Holy Spirit is present, and therefore, we can make no mistake that there is significant reason that this Pentecost moment unfolded at this time and in this way. It is in this particular moment that the church was born.

Huh, let’s think about that. How might God be speaking to us today?

Let’s fast-forward a couple of thousand years later to the twenty-first century. Look back at the birth of the church and then look at the church today. Imagine our own church, imagine our own denomination. What does the PCUSA look like? As we use our imaginations, does our denomination or our individual churches look like the community gathered in Jerusalem?

Or do we tend to worship with people who look like us, speak the same language, think like us, hold the same theological truths as we do? Yes, all too frequently on the Lord’s Day, we seek to worship and honor God with a bunch of other Christians who look like us, who think like us, with whom we share much in common. In the comfort of the sameness we lose site of the Pentecost message.

Certainly in many ways our church is diverse, and we might find different types of diversity throughout our own lives. But how often do you, like me, shift in your seat when someone shares a view that might be radically different from your own? How often do you find yourself outside of your own comfort zone? It is easier to be in fellowship with those with whom we share things in common than it is to live in the tension our diversity, even though we are unified by the Holy Spirit in the very presence of that diversity.

I’m not naïve enough to suggest that this is an easy task. There are both legitimate and illegitimate reasons that we segregate ourselves in community. But the Holy Spirit rushes in, without warning, and tells us that the miracle of the Pentecost message overcomes, affirms, and draws us together.

And so we dare pray that God will do for us and among us and through us what is needed for newness, that the gift of the Holy Spirit will bind us together in our difference, giving us the power to be receptive, not only for ourselves, but for our community at the brink of birth, for the church at the edge of life, for God’s whole creation, with which we yearn in eager longing.

For we know that the Holy Spirit consecrates our differences, creating unity, creating oneness. In the midst of our uniqueness we are one in Christ. Thanks be to God. Amen.