worship this Sunday…

Last summer, on my Clergy Renewal leave, one of the first places that Heather and I visited was a beautiful ancient town called Chania on the island of Crete. Crete is an island overflowing with so much history and influence, and we loved to just walk and lose ourselves in the old town with its winding streets and narrow pathways.

And so, one night we wandered our way to dinner at a restaurant. Although we were seated inside, the windows and doors were open to let in the beautiful breeze from the Libyan Sea. It was nothing short of magical. I ate snails (of course), and we had a wonderful conversation about what we hoped for on this trip together. Our conversation wandered, but we marveled at this moment as we lost ourselves in the evening.

Then, as our conversation deepened, I became aware of a growing clatter outside. I heard it first in the distance and then approaching, the alarming noise of drums and chanting, instruments, and horns. When we looked outside the window near us, we saw a group of people gathered. It didn't take too long for us to understand that this was for a protest. But who were these people and what were they protesting? Eventually, by looking at some of the signs, we saw that it was a protest for justice for Palestine and, in particular, the people of Gaza.

Please don't get me wrong, I agree with the protestors and was glad and even deeply relieved to see that other folks were motivated. It’s just that I want to share what a strange and almost shocking interruption of our evening it was. There we were, Heather and I, lost in conversation with each other…marveling at the beauty and quiet of this place. And then all of a sudden, the quiet was interrupted, pulling us back into the world. It was so abrupt and unexpected with its sharp and chaotic sounds that it brought us into a totally new awareness. It’s just that sometimes, a return to reality feels like that. Coming back into the world feels like crashing back to earth like Icarus. (It's also how I felt once driving through Arizona on a vacation, seeing one of the largest prisons in the world that stretched on for what felt like miles. “Oh yeah…this too is part of the world.”)

This was how I felt on Monday when news began to trickle in faintly at first but then rapidly and loudly. There had been a shooting at the Islamic Center of San Diego. “We are here again,” I thought. We didn’t actually leave this fractured and wounded world. This burst of gun violence, motivated by xenophobia and white supremacy…it didn’t go away. It’s all still here. And it feels like it will never change.

Our Scripture passage this week is for a Sunday called Pentecost when we celebrate and marvel at the story where God’s Spirit broke into our world and interrupted the quiet meal of the disciples. It’s a story of a different kind, this shocking interruption for the disciples, the revelation that God had not left them alone since Jesus ascended to heaven. Instead, God is continuing to act in amazing and surprising ways.

And oh, aren't we so hungry and desperate for these sorts of interruptions for a change? Another radical return to a shattered world that we may have forgotten for a few moments tells us about a radical inbreaking of the Spirit of God who offers nothing short of the renewal of the earth. My God, how we need the Spirit of God again to sweep in and to truly act within us.

I believe that our story and gathering on Sunday will be one of sober hope as we recall and retell this story, as we are witnesses to the reminder that God is still acting in the world. May it come as a shocking interruption to our despair and our fears, and again teach us that God is still acting. We are not alone.

See you on Sunday,
Brent

Acts 1:1-21

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.”

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: ‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,