4. A Pentecost sermon

Fear that I could not make its theme intelligible to a diverse audience would prevent me from giving this homily on Pentecost.  I dare to develop the theme here, since it mines themes addressed in other reflections.

The sermon would revolve around the biblical assertion that the love of the indwelling Holy Spirit for human beings called the eternal Word to become a foetus in Mary’s womb.  It would begin with a sadness that, for so many years, I was unaware that I, too, must meet the Spirit in an intensely personal way if I were to let Jesus share intimately in my life.

To develop this insight, I would then set forth the dynamics of my constant struggles with Jesus who is fully human as well as fully God.  In his love for me, Jesus wants me to be fully human and uniquely myself.  On my part, though I like much about being human, I resist involvements that disturb my comfort zone or threaten my false sense of self-sufficiency.  In the same vein, though I often respond with personal integrity, I also lie to protect my backside.  In these situations, Jesus’ passionate and faithful love for me comes to me through individuals who tap deeply buried tangles.  And since I am haunted by his call to love others as he loves me, I am forced to acknowledge that these tangles distort even my best efforts to let others into my life through vulnerable self-revelations and respectful responses.  In short, I discover that I do not know how to be fully human and to respond with personal integrity.

At this point, I would invoke the poignant description of distorted responses in Romans 7:  “The good that I would do, that I don’t;  and the evil that I would not do, that I do.”  And I would move to the passage in Romans 8 where Paul formulates the promise that the indwelling Spirit can free us from these tangles: “We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit within prays in groanings that cannot be expressed in speech…”

In sum, when inner turmoil tempts us to adopt a strategy of fight or flight, we are called to listen to the word of love which the Spirit speaks in and through our groanings.

To illustrate how the Spirit speaks words of comfort, I sometimes appeal to a striking way that the Spirit’s love came to me through my mother.  As a child, my older brother knew how to tap a rage in me, and, since he was stronger than me, he could frustrate my attacks in ways that filled me with an overwhelming sense of futility.  When I went to my mother in tears, she would often go to her rocking chair and simply hold me as she rocked.

That simple act sent more messages to me than I have yet been able to decipher, all of them healing.

At other times, when I have allowed the Spirit to move in what I initially feel like doing or saying in situations which evoke anxiety or rage, the Spirit reveals to me what I must do, regardless of the consequences, if I am to live with personal integrity.  And on these occasions, I can face even painful consequences with an inner peace.

In sum, if I am to let Jesus share fully in my life, I must, like him, listen to the word of love spoken to me in my tangled depths by the indwelling Spirit.  (The Spirit also helps me discern how the Father’s providence is at work in my life.)