Sermons

Pentecost and the Language of God

Pentecost and the Language of God
Pastor Mark Havel

John 7:37-39

On the last day of the festival, the great day, while Jesus was standing there, he cried out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me; and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’” Now he said this about the Spirit, which believers in him were to receive, for as yet there was no Spirit, because Jesus was not yet glorified.


Christa and I spent a few days in Michigan and Northwest Ohio this week and laughed more than once about the colloquialisms, language, and accents of our people and of the places where we were raised: places and people who think mayonnaise and Miracle Whip are synonyms, I mean; people who say things like “Italian dressing;” and people who buy “pop” – not soda – at “Krogers” or at “Meijers.” I have disabused myself of a lot of that, although “pop” is and will always be “pop,” in my world.

All of this is to say, I have language on the brain this Pentecost Sunday, and I wish I could speak more of them. My four years of high school and undergraduate minor in Spanish haven’t lasted as long as they woulda, coulda, should have. I never did the much-needed “full-immersion” thing where I spent enough time living in and engaging with the culture of a people so that I could practice, speak, and learn that language, which is still more foreign to me than not.

And I have traveled enough to regret my ignorance of and inability to speak other languages in very tangible, up close and personal ways. Of course, it would be nice to order the best food at restaurants and ask about and follow directions in a new city, but it would be most meaningful to communicate conversationally with people more deeply and more meaningfully, to worship, even, when traveling in other countries and cultures.

Of course, I’ve noticed this most, over the years, in Haiti. There was a spell of about 18 months once, where I was in Fondwa three separate times, for a week at a clip, and, while I was nowhere near speaking Haitian Creole with any fluency, I did find that I could almost eavesdrop on conversations between my Haitian friends and just about make sense of, and anticipate discussions with, our translators as we lived and worked and spent time with our people there.

And the hardest thing about this longing for language – the most convicting part of it all – is how so much of the rest of the world is at least bi-lingual; how, when I have traveled to places like Haiti, Mexico, Italy, Greece, Germany, and more, average bears in all of those places are able to speak my language – to engage me with patience and kindness and wisdom and generosity; how they’re able – and so graciously willing – to meet me where I am and where I need them to be.

Which is how I’m receiving the good news and invitation of Pentecost this time around: with that story from Acts and those tongues of fire and all of those languages, cultures, and nationalities ringing in my ears – along with Jesus’ invitation to come to – and to become – living water for the sake of the world.

See, I think our invitation as God’s people – among so many other things – is to always be listening for and opening ourselves to the needs of the world around us. To not pretend that ours is the only way or the best way to do all the things. To remember – and to celebrate – that Jesus showed up for the sake of the world; that he very literally didn’t speak our language; and that most of us here should approach him with deference and humility because we are utterly unfamiliar with the kind of life he lived – its poverty and low position in the grand scheme of the empire and power he so bravely, faithfully resisted, I mean.

So, on this Pentecost Sunday, as we celebrate what many refer to as the birthday of Christ’s Church in the world, and as we wonder about our call as wannabe followers of Jesus in that regard – and as a congregation of Partners in Mission, more specifically – I find myself wondering about the way we find ourselves looking beyond our own walls, into the hearts and minds, into the lives and longings of others, and speaking their language – if not literally, than spiritually … faithfully … lovingly … graciously – like Jesus did and like Jesus calls us to do, as believers from whom rivers of living water are supposed to flow.

If you haven’t seen the Greenfield Reporter article from yesterday yet, please check it out. They ran a lovely piece about the many places our most recent round of Building and Outreach grants will go. In addition to our continued support of Project Rouj, to build homes in Haiti, $45,000 are in the mail to places and people who live and speak very differently than we do in so many ways: impoverished communities of color in Louisiana, shelters and transitional housing ministries on the west side of Indy, recovery houses, rehab centers, and therapy for children with disabilities as far away as Guatemala.

And you should know, if you haven’t heard, that it appears our Summer Reading Program – with special invitation and encouragement for kids learning English – seems to really be happening. With a week and a half to go there are 11 kids signed up so far. And with last names like Perez, Garcia, Montalvan, and Mercano, we are all going to be speaking and learning and sharing grace in more ways and languages than just one around here. And I think it’s going to be beautiful.

And don’t get me wrong. Let’s not break our arms patting ourselves and each other on the back. We have plenty of work to do until there are at least as many Black and brown people joining us for worship on Sunday morning at 8:30 a.m. and 10:45 a.m., as there are those who show up to the food pantry on Wednesdays between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m.

Which, again, for me, is at least part of the call of this Pentecost celebration and of the Pentecost season to come for us. It’s about recognizing the scope of the Church’s mission – our mission here at Cross of Grace and the mission of God’s Church in the world, just the same. Our building project is about making room in a very literal way for more of God’s children to join us here, to receive and to share the living water of grace so many of us have found in this place, with so many who don’t know it exists. And the money our Building Fund’s tithe will allow us to share to build homes in Fondwa, Haiti – each of which now includes a water cistern, by the way – will continue to share living water, literally – and so much more – with God’s children in the poorest country in the western hemisphere.

In addition to that, the General Fund commitments and the Time and Talent offerings I hope you’re praying about increasing and adding to the mix next Sunday, will be continue to be used – not just for our own sake – but because we exist to love and serve our neighbor; and because the grace we proclaim, promise, and pour out in the waters of Holy Baptism around here, are for all people – ANYONE who is thirsty; and because when we do that in the spirit of Pentecost – when we get it right – we do it more faithfully than a lot of people feel comfortable and more graciously than enough churches feel called.

My friend Jamalyn – who many of you know, too, as the founder of Project Rouj, the organization we support that builds all those houses in Haiti – she is fluent in Haitian Creole, having lived there for a couple of years, just out of seminary. I remember her saying once, on one of our trips to Fondwa, that it takes her a couple of days of being back in the country to feel like she’s speaking fluently and communicating, in Creole, as fully as she likes; that it takes her a minute to get her bearings and back into the swing of it, but that she knows when that has happened, because she starts to dream in Creole.

And I think that’s just about the most beautiful, holy way to wonder about today’s Pentecost good news: that we will know we’re in the swing of it … that the Holy Spirit has hold of us … that we are speaking God’s language … whether it’s Haitian Creole, Spanish, German, Italian, or midwestern English … if and when we start dreaming in ways that inspire our capacity to understand, love, and serve all of God’s children, wherever they may be and for whatever it is that they thirst.

When we start dreaming about our longing to meet the needs of others before our own…

When we start dreaming about ways God’s kingdom can come alive among us and flow through us – not just for us – like so much living water…

So that our generosity of time, talent, and treasure; our desire to worship, learn, and serve turns God’s Church – and Cross of Grace as part of it – into nothing more and nothing less than a vessel for the very Holy Spirit of God’s love, for the sake of the world, in Jesus’ name.

Amen

Ecce Doxa

Ecce Doxa
Pastor Cogan

John 17:1-11

After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said,

“Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.

“I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you, for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I have been glorified in them.

And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.


Katelyn and I saw The Devil Wears Prada 2 this weekend. I hadn’t seen the first one, you don’t really need to. In the film, I couldn’t help but notice how glory was on full display: fame, beauty, influence, excellence. Even when the movie tries to offer an alternative, Andy, the main character, can’t leave the lure of it all. Either we come from glory and do everything we can to hold onto it, or we are bound for glory and will do everything we can to get there.

That’s a story we tell about ourselves too: as individuals, communities, businesses, churches. Glory defined as success, relative wealth, stability, and growth. We might get off track for a moment, but with enough effort we believe we can get right back on the glory road. Most of us believe or once believed, that we are destined for great things. More blessings are just around the corner. And if not, then we have been slighted, short changed, or somehow cheated.

Glory gets a bad rap in Lutheran circles, and for good reason. Yet we can’t escape it. In just five verses from John, Jesus speaks of glory five times. The first thing he asks of God is, “Glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you.” Peter says the Spirit of glory rests upon us. Throughout the New Testament, glory appears everywhere in crowns, white robes, and thrones.

Perhaps glory isn’t the problem after all. Perhaps we are simply confused about what glory actually is.

The story of an artist and her art can help us see this differently.

Cecilia Gimenez lived a struggling life. She was a widow in the small town of Borja, Spain. Her two sons, Jesús and Jose, were both born crippled. Jesús had muscular dystrophy and died at 20. Jose had cerebral palsy and needed his mother’s full-time care. Cecilia worked at a bar to bring in extra money.

To comfort herself, she volunteered at her church, the beautiful Sanctuary of the Pitiful Heart. She loved that church dearly. She was married there. Her boys received first communion there. But the centuries-old church didn’t have much money, so parishioners helped however they could.

Cecilia was a painter, and she painted where and when she could.

One day in August of 2012, the 81-year-old painter noticed the sorry state of the church’s fresco, Ecce Homo. Over time, salt and moisture from the aquifer beneath the church had deteriorated the painting until it looked like this. Without express permission, Cecilia decided to restore it herself. She had touched up the painting before, and the priest knew about that, but nothing quite like this.

Mostly a painter of flowers, she had little experience with portraits. So she began with the tunic. Easy enough. Then came Jesus’ face, which proved far more difficult. She stopped, took a two-week holiday, and intended to return later to finish the work. But there was one slight problem: while she was away, the local art center discovered the restoration attempt. They informed the artist’s family. Together they raised a ruckus, and soon Cecilia’s unfinished work was all over the internet. And the internet did what only the internet can do: drag a stranger through the virtual mud without knowing the full story.

Memes were everywhere. The painting was dubbed Ecce Mono, or Monkey Christ. Art critics and strangers alike said awful things about her. Soon the media chased her through the streets. Utterly humiliated, she cried at home and refused to eat, losing 13 pounds in just days. Finally, overcome with despair, she was refined to her bed.

Such suffering when all she wanted was to serve God the best way she knew how. And she was ridiculed for it.

Maybe you know something about that. Maybe you’ve tried to help someone you love only to have your motives questioned. Maybe you poured yourself into your children and still wonder if you got it all wrong.

Maybe you volunteered, gave your time and talents, only to feel unnoticed or criticized. Maybe you tried to do the faithful thing, the loving thing, and instead of gratitude or joy, it brought exhaustion, conflict, embarrassment, or pain.

We expect our striving to be met with acceptance, maybe even glory. Yet so often it leaves us wounded instead. Oddly enough, according to Jesus, glory does not look like influence, success, or self-assertion. It looks like the cross. Jesus says, “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do.” And that work was a life poured out in love for others. A cruciform glory, as one pastor calls is. Glory revealed not in grasping for power, but in service. Not in demanding our own way, but in sacrifice for another. Not in avoiding vulnerability, but entering into it out of love.

That kind of life often involves suffering, because it’s so opposite of the ways of this world. But suffering itself is not the glory. Love is. The glory is Christ revealed through mercy, service, sacrifice, and steadfastness. And somehow God brings resurrection out of places the world expects only humiliation or defeat.

Just ask Cecilia.

Shortly after being bedridden, flowers and a card arrived with some kind words. More followed. Then the visitors came to Borja, not to torture her, but to see the painting for themselves. Over 50,000 people came. Still today 15 to 20 thousand come annually. The church started charging three euros to enter. They set up a shop and sold Ecce Homo t-shirts, mugs, pencils, magnets, even wine. The money funded not only the church, but the nearby hospital for elderly folks who couldn’t afford care. Cecilia received money too, but when she felt she didn’t need any more she gave it to muscular-dystrophy charities in honor of her son Jesús.

Perhaps most miraculous, the perception that Cecilia wasn’t an artist changed. The family of the original artist decided not to restore the fresco, but keep Cecilia’s work. People and art critics began to take that work seriously, finding its simplicity moving, the work of a devoted believer who loved her church and simply wanted to offer something beautiful.

And maybe that was the glory all along. Not the mockery she endured online or in person. Not the fame that followed. But the quiet, cruciform beauty of someone who served without seeking recognition.

A widow caring for her disabled sons. An elderly woman painting church walls because she loved her congregation. A believer trying, however imperfectly, to honor Christ.

And somehow, out of that humble, some say botched, offering, God brought unexpected new life: care for the elderly, support for muscular dystrophy charities, renewed community, and a different kind of beauty for people to behold.

Cecilia died this past Christmas at 94. As C.S. Lewis once wrote, the promise of glory is the promise that because of Christ, we will please God.I am certain God said to her, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Glory is not found in wealth, fame, success, or a 1.5 trillion dollar military budget. Nor is it found merely in art and beauty themselves. Rather, glory is revealed in love poured out for another. Or, at least, that’s what I keep telling myself as Katelyn and I prepare to welcome baby number two any day now.

I know the sleepless nights, the poopy diapers, and the immense overstimulation headed my way will not look, feel, smell, or sound glorious. But somehow, even there, Christ and his glory are revealed through it all. Because it is love poured out for another.

And I believe the same is true for you and whatever your struggle, whatever your sacrifice, whatever service you are enduring and offering in your own life. Glory is not the opposite of any of that. Rather, in Christ and by his cross, God keeps bringing new life, mercy, and even glory out of what the rest of the world only sees as failure, exhaustion, or defeat.

In that way, we are all bound for glory. Thanks be to God.

Amen.