Year B Pentecost Acts 2:1-21; John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

Thanks to pandemic restrictions, it has been a while since most of us had guests in our homes. But thinking back, we all know what it means to have guests coming for a visit.

In my childhood home, Thanksgiving was always a big day for guests – and I can remember the preparations that occurred before anyone arrived, My mother would seemingly lose her mind getting everything ready, and would speak in what my sister and I came to know as her “Thanksgiving voice”. Scary! Can Aunt Kitty eat this? Does Uncle John like that? Where should we seat everyone? Do we have enough chairs?

But even when the gathering was small, like the bridge game my folks used to play with friends every now and then, there was sense of urgency, to have things ready and well prepared, to get everything right.

Finally, after all the fuss and bother and frantic preparation, the expected visitors would arrive. Things would calm down; everything would begin to make better sense. Mom would find out what Aunt Kitty could and could not eat. Uncle John would express his preferences. There would be enough chairs. The bridge partners would be delighted with everything mother had prepared – and the bridge game would begin after coffee and a luscious dessert.

The difficult time is always the time of preparation. We know that we are to be ready, and we want to be organized, but there are elements that simply aren’t clear and won’t come together until the visitors arrive. However, in our struggle to make things “just right”, we do have a few basic guidelines. Despite all the stress and uncertainty, years of practice plus social customs help direct our preparations.

What was preparation like for Jesus’ disciples? Jesus has left them, and they have the vague idea and incomplete understanding that they have a lifetime of work ahead of them. It is work they can only imagine, and they have no well-formed idea of how to proceed. In our first reading this morning we join them in the upper room where they have gathered, frightened and confused.

Jesus had promised them, “I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of Truth who comes from the Father”. Here we are with Jesus disciples, who, having seen the risen Lord, are now Apostles, a group of faithful men who know they must spread the Good News, but have no idea how to proceed or what to expect.

In an attempt to pull things together, they have a meeting, most likely a long one. They start with what is for them the first order of business, something we heard about last week. They decide to hold an election to replace Judas, who has committed suicide. This we know, because it is all recorded for us in the Bible.

But in their meeting other topics would surely also have arisen. Someone must have said that there was no way they could afford to go into the entire world to spread the Good News. Someone else may have suggested that it was dangerous to even go outside the Upper Room. After all, they were the chosen. Who would do the work if they were killed or thrown in prison?

But the task had been assigned. They were to go into the whole world telling about the Good News of the Resurrection, baptizing those who believed. They were to be “witnesses”. That word, from which we get “martyr,” means life-givers. That’s a risky and dangerous business. They were to be a new race, or tribe, or nation. Anyone who believed could join. It didn’t matter what gender one was, or one’s race, language, nationality, customs, or religion: all were welcome.

So what did they do as they waited? They did something they understood and over which they had control. They held an election. It made them look busy and helped them feel more stable. They may have tried to rationalize a way out of the situation in which they found themselves. Someone may have said that they were no good at evangelism, and after all, everyone has a right to their own religion. Perhaps Jesus had been poetic? Surely He didn’t mean that they were actually to “convert” people?

For those tense, upset, confused Apostles, the Upper Room must have felt so safe, so comfortable. It was in that room that on what we call Holy (Maundy) Thursday Jesus had given them the first Holy Communion. At least they could be obedient in doing that. Maybe others would come from outside and join them?

It sounds like us – trying to figure out what Aunt Kitty really can and cannot eat, whether or not Uncle John prefers light or dark meat turkey. Surely, we no one will turn out to be vegetarian or, worse, vegan, will they? And doesn’t everyone have a right to their own preferences? Maybe those with special food requirements will bring their own casserole?

As the Apostles struggled with their incomplete understanding of what Jesus really wanted from them, something extraordinary happened. They were all attacked – or so it must have seemed.

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.

It sounds terrifying. Wind and fire are the ancient symbols of God’s Presence, and suddenly the Apostles were engulfed by that Presence. That energy, that being set on fire with confidence, thrust them out into the street, where they were soon accused of being drunk at ten o’clock in the morning.

And now all the Apostles’ fears and doubts, all those reasonable objections to Jesus’ command evaporated. The Church was on the move. The Church was intended to be on the move. It was not intended for Upper Rooms. It was intended for the street, for people, and places everywhere.

We know how to prepare for visitors. And no matter how much we like, or love them, we prepare for their arrival with a certain amount of stress and uncertainty. But the important thing is, we prepare. We throw our energy into being ready, waiting for the doorbell to ring, so we can greet our visitors with love and joy. Do we, who received the Holy Spirit in baptism, also, every day, prepare for what Jesus will ask us to do? This doesn’t mean our set routine, or what we do on a regular basis for our congregation, what we need to ask ourselves is, “Am I ready and waiting for the Lord’s bidding, whatever it may turn out to be?”

The Holy Spirit wasn’t given so we could have a form of “spirituality” just for us. The Spirit wasn’t given to an elite group so that they could practice a religion close to their political opinions, left, right, or center. The Holy Spirit was given to the Church, to us, to enable us to be the Church. In its power, the Church is enabled to put things together and to be together.

The Holy Spirit doesn’t guarantee that the decisions we make together are wise or good. The Holy Spirit guarantees that the Church and the Church’s mission will go on and on until Kingdom come. It is the Truth of Kingdom which is, and is to come, into which the Spirit leads us. The Holy Spirit shows us Jesus and brings us to the Father. The Holy Spirit moves in the water; in bread, and wine, and oil; and in our prayers, private and collective. Above all, the Holy Spirit drives us out of the safety and security of our local Upper Rooms, our particular congregations. The Holy Spirit pushes us beyond ourselves, our abilities, expectations, and safety levels.

Today we pray, “Come Holy Spirit! Come!”We need to be prepared for the moment our prayers will be answered.

Let us pray:

Almighty God, so move our hearts that all barriers which divide us may crumble, and grant that we may be filled with the fire of your Love, that united in one Body we may so brightly burn, that all who see us may come to know and share in the joy of your Holy and life-giving Spirit, through your Son our savior Jesus Christ. AMEN.