Breath of the Spirit

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For Paul, the Spirit instigates the gifts which are creating chaos in Corinth. And for John, the Spirit leads us into the great “unknown” that forgiveness creates.

JUNE 9TH, 2019: PENTECOST

Acts 2:1-11     
I Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13     
John 20:19-23

Though I intend each of these commentaries to be read independent of my other commentaries, I’m afraid this particular Pentecost piece logically follows on last week’s.
      
For many Catholics, today’s feast is somewhat parallel to the fourth commandment. We eventually outgrew it. Just as God’s command to “obey” our parents only applied when we were children, so anything to do with the Holy Spirit came into our lives only when we were young enough to take our school exams. Though the Cardinals entering a papal conclave logically join in singing “Come Holy Spirit” before they choose the next pope, I’ve never heard of any parish singing that hymn before they pick their next pastor, nor any diocese doing so before it elects its next bishop. The hierarchical system we’ve created – then later blamed on the historical Jesus – has taken away the necessity to depend on the Spirit for any help in our lives of faith.
      
When, in the summer of 1965, I returned to the United States from Rome as a newly ordained priest, I was expecting to get a fair amount of static from the older parishioners of any parish to which I was assigned. They’d be the group most resisting the Vatican II changes I was bringing with me. They had, for a lifetime, bought into the theology that the Roman Catholic Church was founded by Jesus as an unchangeable institution, an institution that this young priest was informing them was changing.
      
To my surprise, I discovered my presuppositions weren’t always verified. The elderly were frequently my staunchest supporters! They accepted my explanations and went along with the reform. I had more problems with middle-age parishioners.
      
Years later, my friend and teacher, Carroll Stuhlmueller, explained the reason for their reluctance to change. “They’re young enough to hold out the hope that one day they’re going to discover things in life that never change. The Catholic Church filled that expectation. Older people know that’s an impossible dream. In their senior years, they simply take change for granted. It’s become a way of life.”
      
I frequently remember Teilhard de Chardin’s remark that as a youth he longed to uncover an element in his environment that never changed. He thought he found it one day when he came across a small piece of iron from a broken plough. He couldn’t bend, break or destroy it, until . . . he noticed it began to rust after it rained. He was eventually forced to admit the only thing that didn’t change was change.
      
I presume the main reason Luke brings up the wind, fire and noise accompanying the Holy Spirit’s arrival springs from that basic insight. Each is a disturbing element. (I distinctly remember letting my grandmother into one of my treasured childhood plans. When I grew up I intended to cut down all the trees! That would stop the wind from frightening me.)
      
The evangelist presumes there’s no need for the Spirit if the risen Jesus doesn’t demand constant change in her/his community. For Luke, the Spirit is the force behind the Christ’s wind, noise and fire, and causes the directions in which they blow, sound and burn. He’s not alone.
      
For Paul, the Spirit instigates the gifts which are creating chaos in Corinth. And for John, the Spirit leads us into the great “unknown” that forgiveness creates. In each case, followers of the risen Jesus would be more unchanging, more peaceful if they just didn’t have to deal with such an uncontrollable element.
      
I belong to a church that has consistently employed various (successful) hierarchical deforestation programs. Thankfully I’ve also lived long enough to have encountered a pope who’s actually started planting trees instead of cutting them down. Francis must have had a very understanding and wise grandmother.