The Old South Church in Boston

The Moment of Understanding

Sermon by James W. Crawford

Acts 2:1-13*

June 3, 2001

It sounds like a riot! Thousands of people in a public square from all over the world. Different colors, various languages, clothing to match home turf: “Devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem,” as we read from Acts a moment ago. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Cappadocians, Pamphylians, Libyans, Ethiopians—and the list goes on. It is as if we wandered into Copley Square and found the population of the world concentrated there, in turbans and saris, loin cloths and pants suits, sarongs and cassocks—the world in microcosm milling around, bumping against one another, a chaos of humanity overflowing into the adjacent streets, perhaps driving some of us to hurry quickly away, swearing never to return to this alien mess.

But more than a seething crowd, we hear a thunderous crash. Our ears get blasted with a sound roaring like a tornado. And touching the shoulders of these Egyptians, and Phrygians, Medes and Mesopotamians we see what we can only describe as tongues—cloves—of fire. Something ecstatic occurs, something we can explain only by analogy, our words able only to point to unexplainable experience—the vivid, transforming, enlivening, purpose bearing thrilling presence of the Spirit, an encounter throwing us off guard, something we can hardly envisage even in our imaginations, a bizarre occasion leaving us unsettled, troubled, maybe a little put off.

But more: what about that wild cacophony? That crazy quilt of languages? That anarchy of dialects, that jumble of tongues? And Luke is telling us that, in this fantastic moment, this babble of tongues could be understood by each of these persons gathered, as if the language of the other were transformed into their own. The language of Crete sounding like Egyptian to the Egyptians, the language of the Elamites sounding like Cappadocian to the Cappadocians. Incredible! It sounds like a riot. Indeed, some observers pass it off as a bunch of drunks.

What in God’s name is going on? Why this hyperbole, these wild images of deafening sound, bursting fire, discernible babble? Well, among other things, Luke, our historian, tries to tell us in this smashing imagery that what appears parochial really belongs to the whole world. Luke pictures the local becomes universal. He tells us what begins in Jerusalem now stretches to Rome, a metaphor for what we call these days, the globalizing of the Gospel. We witness here a barrier breaking revelation of understanding. Remember? Luke writes, “At this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us in our own native language? In our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”

We see here, friends, one of the marvelous testimonies of the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Luke describes a world of difference. He recognizes the divisive nature of language and culture. He draws a picture of a world fragmented, splintered, piece meal. He would not be surprised to read our newspapers this morning and see the fury mounted by Israelis and Palestinians, Macedonian and Albanians, Eritreans and Ethiopians, the Taliban and Hindus. He would not be surprised by the lingering antagonisms between Protestants and Protestants, Catholics and Catholics, Moslem and Moslems. He would nod when he heard of Quebec’s citizens arguing and trying to intimidate one another over the matter of French and English. He would hardly be amazed at Tibetans and Chinese, or South Asian immigrants and British urban dwellers—or for that matter Trent Lott and James Jeffords—going at one another’s throats. What Luke does for us, however is to recognize the diversity of our human race; he does not necessarily celebrate it, but what he does provide in this fantastic Pentecost vision, what he does celebrate is the capacity of the Gospel to bridge our human variety, to span our brokenness. They speak a unifying voice amid our humanity broken by race or language, ethnic roots or creed. In this exciting and ecstatic imagery Luke asserts that across the chasms separating us the Gospel provides the power to turn our human race into a human family, that the things dividing us, leading us to war and mutual destruction are not the last word in creation. Luke tells us that grace still emanates from the heart of the universe, that all of us, whatever our gene pool, gender, sexual orientation, color, culture, religious loyalty and religious code-language, are children of the God we see in the face of Jesus Christ.

And that, friends, brings us to this table. Because, you see, the truth of sisterhood and brotherhood across our barriers comes with our willingness and readiness to love others as Christ loves us. And to span the chasms between us we know assumes risks. The love binding us when our differences divide us is exercised frequently at great cost, a cost illustrated by a body broken, by blood poured, by a life thrown into the breach, asserting that our forging the human family, its vision and reality is not just some sugary, do-gooder’s dream, but a hope resting on our readiness and willingness to plunge into the risks with everything we have — everything! — our life, yea, perhaps our death itself. The transforming power of the Holy Spirit empowering in you and me—in us—a commitment illustrated by the breaking and pouring at this table can heal our wounded and suffering humanity, uniting, joining, securing us in the vast, dynamic and glorious family of God.

What a fabulous vision! God grant we understand, and surrender!

SCRIPTURE READING

Acts 2:1-13

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

The Old South Church in Boston

645 Boylston Street

Boston, MA 02116

(617) 536-1970