PENTECOST May 11, 2008
Acts 2:1-11 I Corinthians 12:4-6 John 20:19-23
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
Introduction
Pentecost: a Jewish harvest feast
After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles from time to time in human form for forty days. Then promising to send them the Holy Spirit He ascended into heaven. (Acts 1:3; Lk 24:49) Originally, Pentecost (a Greek word meaning fiftieth day) was a Jewish harvest feast which took place on the fiftieth day after Passover. A devout Jew was then expected to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem to give thanks for the harvest. On the occasion of this harvest feast, Jesus fulfilled His promise to send the Holy Spirit. It was, indeed, a harvest feast for the first believers; they reaped nothing less than the Holy Spirit.
Pentecost: the summit of the cycle
With Pentecost we reach the summit of the liturgical cycle which began with the Son’s descent to earth in the Christmas season. It continued with the Son’s ascent back to the Father in heaven through death, resurrection and ascension. The cycle now peaks with the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
With Pentecost we conclude the Easter season. The Paschal candle is blown out. Its prominence is downgraded to a less conspicuous spot near the baptismal font, and we return to Ordinary Time with its color green. We will coast along in green through the warm summer months until November 30, 2008, when we will start the cycle all over again with the first Sunday of Advent in preparation for Christmas 2008.
The openness of Pentecost
The first reading for Pentecost relates how the Holy Spirit with a loud noise came upon the little group of Galilean believers gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost. Tongues of fires came to rest upon each of them, and they began to talk in other languages.
Gathered for the feast were people from every nation under the sun, speaking diverse languages. There were Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans, Cappadocians, Asians, Phrygian, Pamphylians, Egyptians, Romans, Cretans and Arabs. When this greatly diverse throng heard the loud noise they gathered in a large crowd and were amazed at the little group of believers. They exclaimed, “These are all Galileans but we hear them preaching in our own native languages about the marvels of God” (Acts 2:9-11) Pentecost is about openness to diverse peoples.
It is also about openness to diverse gifts. In the second reading for Pentecost, Paul writes, “I would remind you that there are all different sorts of spiritual gifts, but it’s the same Spirit who gives them. There are all different kinds of service, but it is the same Spirit who is served. There are all different ways by which God works in our lives, but it is the same Spirit who is working.” (I Cor 12:4-6) Even the opening prayer for the Mass of Pentecost is about openness: “With the power of a mighty wind and by the flame of your wisdom open the horizons of our hearts and minds.”
Hearts and minds closed out of fear
But the gospel for Pentecost speaks about the horizons of hearts and minds closed by fear. John writes, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were gathered, out of fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, `Peace be with you.’” A week later the doors are still closed out of fear of the Jews.[3] ( Jn 20:19, 26)
Fear of Jews
That “fear of the Jews” would hang on for centuries right down to our very own times. Out of an inexplicable fear of Jews, German Nazis closed the horizons of their hearts and minds and refused to recognize Jews as human beings. On the eve of November 9, 1938, the Nazis rampaged through all of Germany and in one night destroyed 7000 Jewish businesses and burned down 191 synagogues. That night goes down in history as Krystallnacht -- The Night of the Shattered Glass. By the time the Nazis’ fear of Jews had expended itself, six million Jews had been offered as burnt offerings in the fiery furnaces of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Dachau.
Fear of infidels
During the Dark Ages (5th to 11th century), Islam was the center of the universe. It eclipsed Europe in the fields of medicine, chemistry, mathematics, art, poetry, spirituality and physics. But for two centuries now Islam has been on the losing side of history because of all the modernization and secularization closing in on it from the West. Out of that fear, Islamic extremists closed the horizons of their hearts and minds to Western infidels. On 9/11, 2001, some of them drove two 747s as weapons of mass destruction into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan and turned three thousand innocent human beings into burnt offerings to Allah, Most Merciful.
Fear of Islamic extremists
At the Easter vigil on Saturday, March 22, 2008, in the great Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome, Pope Benedict XVI baptized Magdi Allam together with six other men and women from four continents. The event had the atmospherics of Pentecost.
Allam is a very well-known journalist in Italy and a convert from Islam. The pope baptized him Magdi Cristiano Allam. Very few realized the momentousness of that event. Very few realized what a towering figure was being baptized in that almost frail-looking man. Very few realized also what courage that baptism demanded on the part of both Allam and the Pope himself.
The Muslim media was angry at Allam for his traitorous conversion from Islam to Christianity, and equally angry at Pope Benedict for his “in your face” baptism of Allam in the great Basilica of St. Peter and at a peak moment in the church’s liturgical year – the Vigil of Easter. The international daily newspaper Al Quds al Arabi wrote: "The pope provokes the indignation of Muslims by baptizing an Egyptian journalist who attacks Islam and defends Israel." Another newspaper rumbled that Allam had added more fuel to the fire of the so-called clash of civilizations. Even some in the churchly camp rumbled. Fearing angry Muslims, some maintained that the baptism should have been done less spectacularly, sub secreto even, by a lay deacon in some subterraneous crypt with which Rome abounds.
Fearless Allam, however, has criticized the church for hesitating out of fear to baptize Muslim converts in those countries where apostasy from Islam is punished with death. He has also criticized the church in some Christian countries for fearfully keeping conversions from Islam secret. There was no secrecy in Rome on the Vigil of Easter and in the great Basilica of St. Peter’s, when Pope Benedict very publicly baptized Magdi Cristiano Allam in conspectu omnium. That was not an in-your-face act; that was a great act of courage for Allam and Benedict who overcame their fear of very angry Muslims.
Fear of women
TV’s coverage of the funeral Mass for Pope John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square in Rome, April 8, 2005, was, indeed, impressive. It took place before Pentecostal thongs and on a world stage where many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Equally impressive was TV’s coverage of Pope Benedict’s recent visit to the USA, April 15-21, 2008. That event also took place on a world stage where again many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Both of those magnificent all-male performances, however, fell short of Pentecost -- the feast of openness and inclusion. Both blatantly and substantially excluded women. Out of some inexplicable fear of women (who make up more than half of the human race) the church, and the society she reflects, find it difficult to meaningfully and substantially include women. The church thereby excludes the Holy Spirit of Pentecost and inclusion.
Magnificent all-male performances do not impress Barbara Marion Horn, a feisty lass from Ireland, who studied theology at St. Francis Seminary and Marquette University in Milwaukee. After attending an ordination Mass in St. John’s Cathedral some years ago, she wrote to Archbishop Weakland:
Your Excellency, the beauty of the music, the power of the liturgy and the ancient tradition of the laying on of hands, at moments, left me breathless. The palpable joy and strength of that occasion will always be with me. But, as is the case with a growing number of Catholics, a great sadness arose in my heart; a feeling of how wrong everything was amid the beauty, the power and the strength. The procession of male clergy across the altar reverberated throughout my body: the visible reminder that the oldest, deepest exclusion, the one we are all too accustomed to, is alive and well in the bosom of my faith community.
I believe with every fiber of my being that Pope John Paul II is profoundly convinced that Jesus did not, and therefore does not, welcome women as His apostles. I have no doubt that the Holy Father is sincere in his belief that the matter of opening all the doors of the church locked to women is not within his power. This grieves me greatly. I am convinced that if Jesus were at St. John’s last Saturday, he would have whipped through the place as he did with the money changers at the Temple on another Saturday.
Though Horn speaks her position clearly she is not a cantankerous feminist. She is, in fact, very gentle and loving. She concluded her letter saying,
My prayer is that this letter is received in the same spirit in which it is sent. Originally from the East coast, I am forever grateful to have landed in Milwaukee. This archdiocese has introduced me to a Catholic Church heretofore unknown. Sts. Peter & Paul Parish here has fed my hunger for Christian formation with their abundance of programs and a pastoral team including the likes of Monica Meagher and Fr. Jack Kern--people who believe in their parishioners. This is the neighborhood parish where I first personally encountered a Bishop with whom I have had many friendly and encouraging interactions. St. Francis Seminary educated and affirmed me in ways I never dreamed possible. At the present moment, All Saints Parish ministers to my need for [Pentecostal] diversity and gospel music. It is hard to be despondent or in doubt when singing full force "All is Well" and "God has Smiled on Me."
So here I am, simultaneously holding gratitude in one hand and deep discontent in the other. The real angst is this: we are Jesus' disciples. They will know we are Christians by our love, but where is there love in exclusion?
Fear of reformers
Out of fear of the Protestant Reformers in the 16th century the church summoned the Council of Trent and understandably wrote a theology of fear which locked up all church teachings in prisons of certainty. Then she threw away the keys for four hundred long years. That theology of fear reigned from Trent (1545-1563) up to Vatican II (1962-1965). But fear which hangs around for four hundred years eventually loses its edge. When the College of Cardinals elected Cardinal Angelo Roncalli as Pope John XXIII in 1958, the mood was right and the time was ripe for change. Good Pope John looked with compassion upon his church whose doors were locked out of fear of everything: fear of Jews, Protestants, non-Christians, atheists; fear also of the world itself, the changing times and new ideas. In January of 1959 John announced his intention to convoke an ecumenical council, and when it opened on October 11, 1962, he wished his fear-filled church the peace of Jesus.
Upon the early church trembling with fear behind locked doors Jesus wished peace not once, not twice, but three times (Jn 20:19, 21, 26). When Jesus wished peace! in his Hebrew language, he said Shalom! It is a very special Hebrew word, and it’s difficult to find a one-word translation to do it justice. In fact, the 70 men (Septuagint) who translated the Old Testament from Hebrew into Greek used 25 different Greek words in different places to express the many shades of Shalom. The word is so rich in meaning that it is almost better not to translate it but simply keep it as Shalom, and that is what we usually do.
Conclusion
Shalom’s command
Shalom – Peace - is not only a wish but also a command which we give to the people beside us in the pew at the Kiss of Peace at Mass, and they in turn give the command to us. Shalom - Peace - is a command to stop our worrying and fretting; a command to blow the air out of our lungs and calm down; a command to let go and let God. Shalom – Peace - is a command to lay aside the burning anger which consumes us. Shalom – Peace - is a command to cut down to size the molehills we have built up into mountains; a command to lay hold of a sense of proportion as we weep and wail over the price of gas at the pump at a time when a massively destructive cyclone in Myanmar has left 100,000 dead and 1.5 million in desperate need. Shalom – Peace - is a command to count our blessings. Shalom – Peace - is a command to sort things out and know what’s important and what’s not. Shalom – Peace - is a command to name the fear that keeps us locked up in prisons of certainty and to open the horizons of our hearts and minds.
Shalom! Peace!
PENTECOST
Acts 2:1-11 I Corinthians 12:4-6 John 20:19-23
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
Introduction
Pentecost: a Jewish harvest feast
After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles from time to time in human form for forty days. Then promising to send them the Holy Spirit He ascended into heaven. (Acts 1:3; Lk 24:49) Originally, Pentecost (a Greek word meaning fiftieth day) was a Jewish harvest feast which took place on the fiftieth day after Passover. A devout Jew was then expected to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem to give thanks for the harvest. On the occasion of this harvest feast, Jesus fulfilled His promise to send the Holy Spirit. It was, indeed, a harvest feast for the first believers; they reaped nothing less than the Holy Spirit.
Pentecost: the summit of the cycle
With Pentecost we reach the summit of the liturgical cycle which began with the Son’s descent to earth in the Christmas season. It continued with the Son’s ascent back to the Father in heaven through death, resurrection and ascension. The cycle now peaks with the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
With Pentecost we conclude the Easter season. The Paschal candle is blown out. Its prominence is downgraded to a less conspicuous spot near the baptismal font, and we return to Ordinary Time with its color green. We will coast along in green through the warm summer months until November 30, 2008, when we will start the cycle all over again with the first Sunday of Advent in preparation for Christmas 2008.
The openness of Pentecost
The first reading for Pentecost relates how the Holy Spirit with a loud noise came upon the little group of Galilean believers gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost. Tongues of fires came to rest upon each of them, and they began to talk in other languages.
Gathered for the feast were people from every nation under the sun, speaking diverse languages. There were Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans, Cappadocians, Asians, Phrygian, Pamphylians, Egyptians, Romans, Cretans and Arabs. When this greatly diverse throng heard the loud noise they gathered in a large crowd and were amazed at the little group of believers. They exclaimed, “These are all Galileans but we hear them preaching in our own native languages about the marvels of God” (Acts 2:9-11) Pentecost is about openness to diverse peoples.
It is also about openness to diverse gifts. In the second reading for Pentecost, Paul writes, “I would remind you that there are all different sorts of spiritual gifts, but it’s the same Spirit who gives them. There are all different kinds of service, but it is the same Spirit who is served. There are all different ways by which God works in our lives, but it is the same Spirit who is working.” (I Cor 12:4-6) Even the opening prayer for the Mass of Pentecost is about openness: “With the power of a mighty wind and by the flame of your wisdom open the horizons of our hearts and minds.”
Hearts and minds closed out of fear
But the gospel for Pentecost speaks about the horizons of hearts and minds closed by fear. John writes, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were gathered, out of fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, `Peace be with you.’” A week later the doors are still closed out of fear of the Jews.[3] ( Jn 20:19, 26)
Fear of Jews
That “fear of the Jews” would hang on for centuries right down to our very own times. Out of an inexplicable fear of Jews, German Nazis closed the horizons of their hearts and minds and refused to recognize Jews as human beings. On the eve of November 9, 1938, the Nazis rampaged through all of Germany and in one night destroyed 7000 Jewish businesses and burned down 191 synagogues. That night goes down in history as Krystallnacht -- The Night of the Shattered Glass. By the time the Nazis’ fear of Jews had expended itself, six million Jews had been offered as burnt offerings in the fiery furnaces of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Dachau.
Fear of infidels
During the Dark Ages (5th to 11th century), Islam was the center of the universe. It eclipsed Europe in the fields of medicine, chemistry, mathematics, art, poetry, spirituality and physics. But for two centuries now Islam has been on the losing side of history because of all the modernization and secularization closing in on it from the West. Out of that fear, Islamic extremists closed the horizons of their hearts and minds to Western infidels. On 9/11, 2001, some of them drove two 747s as weapons of mass destruction into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan and turned three thousand innocent human beings into burnt offerings to Allah, Most Merciful.
Fear of Islamic extremists
At the Easter vigil on Saturday, March 22, 2008, in the great Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome, Pope Benedict XVI baptized Magdi Allam together with six other men and women from four continents. The event had the atmospherics of Pentecost.
Allam is a very well-known journalist in Italy and a convert from Islam. The pope baptized him Magdi Cristiano Allam. Very few realized the momentousness of that event. Very few realized what a towering figure was being baptized in that almost frail-looking man. Very few realized also what courage that baptism demanded on the part of both Allam and the Pope himself.
The Muslim media was angry at Allam for his traitorous conversion from Islam to Christianity, and equally angry at Pope Benedict for his “in your face” baptism of Allam in the great Basilica of St. Peter and at a peak moment in the church’s liturgical year – the Vigil of Easter. The international daily newspaper Al Quds al Arabi wrote: "The pope provokes the indignation of Muslims by baptizing an Egyptian journalist who attacks Islam and defends Israel." Another newspaper rumbled that Allam had added more fuel to the fire of the so-called clash of civilizations. Even some in the churchly camp rumbled. Fearing angry Muslims, some maintained that the baptism should have been done less spectacularly, sub secreto even, by a lay deacon in some subterraneous crypt with which Rome abounds.
Fearless Allam, however, has criticized the church for hesitating out of fear to baptize Muslim converts in those countries where apostasy from Islam is punished with death. He has also criticized the church in some Christian countries for fearfully keeping conversions from Islam secret. There was no secrecy in Rome on the Vigil of Easter and in the great Basilica of St. Peter’s, when Pope Benedict very publicly baptized Magdi Cristiano Allam in conspectu omnium. That was not an in-your-face act; that was a great act of courage for Allam and Benedict who overcame their fear of very angry Muslims.
Fear of women
TV’s coverage of the funeral Mass for Pope John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square in Rome, April 8, 2005, was, indeed, impressive. It took place before Pentecostal thongs and on a world stage where many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Equally impressive was TV’s coverage of Pope Benedict’s recent visit to the USA, April 15-21, 2008. That event also took place on a world stage where again many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Both of those magnificent all-male performances, however, fell short of Pentecost -- the feast of openness and inclusion. Both blatantly and substantially excluded women. Out of some inexplicable fear of women (who make up more than half of the human race) the church, and the society she reflects, find it difficult to meaningfully and substantially include women. The church thereby excludes the Holy Spirit of Pentecost and inclusion.
Magnificent all-male performances do not impress Barbara Marion Horn, a feisty lass from Ireland, who studied theology at St. Francis Seminary and Marquette University in Milwaukee. After attending an ordination Mass in St. John’s Cathedral some years ago, she wrote to Archbishop Weakland:
Your Excellency, the beauty of the music, the power of the liturgy and the ancient tradition of the laying on of hands, at moments, left me breathless. The palpable joy and strength of that occasion will always be with me. But, as is the case with a growing number of Catholics, a great sadness arose in my heart; a feeling of how wrong everything was amid the beauty, the power and the strength. The procession of male clergy across the altar reverberated throughout my body: the visible reminder that the oldest, deepest exclusion, the one we are all too accustomed to, is alive and well in the bosom of my faith community.
I believe with every fiber of my being that Pope John Paul II is profoundly convinced that Jesus did not, and therefore does not, welcome women as His apostles. I have no doubt that the Holy Father is sincere in his belief that the matter of opening all the doors of the church locked to women is not within his power. This grieves me greatly. I am convinced that if Jesus were at St. John’s last Saturday, he would have whipped through the place as he did with the money changers at the Temple on another Saturday.
Though Horn speaks her position clearly she is not a cantankerous feminist. She is, in fact, very gentle and loving. She concluded her letter saying,
My prayer is that this letter is received in the same spirit in which it is sent. Originally from the East coast, I am forever grateful to have landed in Milwaukee. This archdiocese has introduced me to a Catholic Church heretofore unknown. Sts. Peter & Paul Parish here has fed my hunger for Christian formation with their abundance of programs and a pastoral team including the likes of Monica Meagher and Fr. Jack Kern--people who believe in their parishioners. This is the neighborhood parish where I first personally encountered a Bishop with whom I have had many friendly and encouraging interactions. St. Francis Seminary educated and affirmed me in ways I never dreamed possible. At the present moment, All Saints Parish ministers to my need for [Pentecostal] diversity and gospel music. It is hard to be despondent or in doubt when singing full force "All is Well" and "God has Smiled on Me."
So here I am, simultaneously holding gratitude in one hand and deep discontent in the other. The real angst is this: we are Jesus' disciples. They will know we are Christians by our love, but where is there love in exclusion?
Fear of reformers
Out of fear of the Protestant Reformers in the 16th century the church summoned the Council of Trent and understandably wrote a theology of fear which locked up all church teachings in prisons of certainty. Then she threw away the keys for four hundred long years. That theology of fear reigned from Trent (1545-1563) up to Vatican II (1962-1965). But fear which hangs around for four hundred years eventually loses its edge. When the College of Cardinals elected Cardinal Angelo Roncalli as Pope John XXIII in 1958, the mood was right and the time was ripe for change. Good Pope John looked with compassion upon his church whose doors were locked out of fear of everything: fear of Jews, Protestants, non-Christians, atheists; fear also of the world itself, the changing times and new ideas. In January of 1959 John announced his intention to convoke an ecumenical council, and when it opened on October 11, 1962, he wished his fear-filled church the peace of Jesus.
Upon the early church trembling with fear behind locked doors Jesus wished peace not once, not twice, but three times (Jn 20:19, 21, 26). When Jesus wished peace! in his Hebrew language, he said Shalom! It is a very special Hebrew word, and it’s difficult to find a one-word translation to do it justice. In fact, the 70 men (Septuagint) who translated the Old Testament from Hebrew into Greek used 25 different Greek words in different places to express the many shades of Shalom. The word is so rich in meaning that it is almost better not to translate it but simply keep it as Shalom, and that is what we usually do.
Conclusion
Shalom’s command
Shalom – Peace - is not only a wish but also a command which we give to the people beside us in the pew at the Kiss of Peace at Mass, and they in turn give the command to us. Shalom - Peace - is a command to stop our worrying and fretting; a command to blow the air out of our lungs and calm down; a command to let go and let God. Shalom – Peace - is a command to lay aside the burning anger which consumes us. Shalom – Peace - is a command to cut down to size the molehills we have built up into mountains; a command to lay hold of a sense of proportion as we weep and wail over the price of gas at the pump at a time when a massively destructive cyclone in Myanmar has left 100,000 dead and 1.5 million in desperate need. Shalom – Peace - is a command to count our blessings. Shalom – Peace - is a command to sort things out and know what’s important and what’s not. Shalom – Peace - is a command to name the fear that keeps us locked up in prisons of certainty and to open the horizons of our hearts and minds.
[1]By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24
[3] Scholars now point out that “for fear of the Jews” should be understood as “for fear of the Jewish authorities.” Such understanding can correct the anti-Semitism which lurks in a careless reading of John’s gospel.
Acts 2:1-11 I Corinthians 12:4-6 John 20:19-23
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
Introduction
Pentecost: a Jewish harvest feast
After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles from time to time in human form for forty days. Then promising to send them the Holy Spirit He ascended into heaven. (Acts 1:3; Lk 24:49) Originally, Pentecost (a Greek word meaning fiftieth day) was a Jewish harvest feast which took place on the fiftieth day after Passover. A devout Jew was then expected to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem to give thanks for the harvest. On the occasion of this harvest feast, Jesus fulfilled His promise to send the Holy Spirit. It was, indeed, a harvest feast for the first believers; they reaped nothing less than the Holy Spirit.
Pentecost: the summit of the cycle
With Pentecost we reach the summit of the liturgical cycle which began with the Son’s descent to earth in the Christmas season. It continued with the Son’s ascent back to the Father in heaven through death, resurrection and ascension. The cycle now peaks with the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
With Pentecost we conclude the Easter season. The Paschal candle is blown out. Its prominence is downgraded to a less conspicuous spot near the baptismal font, and we return to Ordinary Time with its color green. We will coast along in green through the warm summer months until November 30, 2008, when we will start the cycle all over again with the first Sunday of Advent in preparation for Christmas 2008.
The openness of Pentecost
The first reading for Pentecost relates how the Holy Spirit with a loud noise came upon the little group of Galilean believers gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost. Tongues of fires came to rest upon each of them, and they began to talk in other languages.
Gathered for the feast were people from every nation under the sun, speaking diverse languages. There were Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans, Cappadocians, Asians, Phrygian, Pamphylians, Egyptians, Romans, Cretans and Arabs. When this greatly diverse throng heard the loud noise they gathered in a large crowd and were amazed at the little group of believers. They exclaimed, “These are all Galileans but we hear them preaching in our own native languages about the marvels of God” (Acts 2:9-11) Pentecost is about openness to diverse peoples.
It is also about openness to diverse gifts. In the second reading for Pentecost, Paul writes, “I would remind you that there are all different sorts of spiritual gifts, but it’s the same Spirit who gives them. There are all different kinds of service, but it is the same Spirit who is served. There are all different ways by which God works in our lives, but it is the same Spirit who is working.” (I Cor 12:4-6) Even the opening prayer for the Mass of Pentecost is about openness: “With the power of a mighty wind and by the flame of your wisdom open the horizons of our hearts and minds.”
Hearts and minds closed out of fear
But the gospel for Pentecost speaks about the horizons of hearts and minds closed by fear. John writes, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were gathered, out of fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, `Peace be with you.’” A week later the doors are still closed out of fear of the Jews.[3] ( Jn 20:19, 26)
Fear of Jews
That “fear of the Jews” would hang on for centuries right down to our very own times. Out of an inexplicable fear of Jews, German Nazis closed the horizons of their hearts and minds and refused to recognize Jews as human beings. On the eve of November 9, 1938, the Nazis rampaged through all of Germany and in one night destroyed 7000 Jewish businesses and burned down 191 synagogues. That night goes down in history as Krystallnacht -- The Night of the Shattered Glass. By the time the Nazis’ fear of Jews had expended itself, six million Jews had been offered as burnt offerings in the fiery furnaces of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Dachau.
Fear of infidels
During the Dark Ages (5th to 11th century), Islam was the center of the universe. It eclipsed Europe in the fields of medicine, chemistry, mathematics, art, poetry, spirituality and physics. But for two centuries now Islam has been on the losing side of history because of all the modernization and secularization closing in on it from the West. Out of that fear, Islamic extremists closed the horizons of their hearts and minds to Western infidels. On 9/11, 2001, some of them drove two 747s as weapons of mass destruction into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan and turned three thousand innocent human beings into burnt offerings to Allah, Most Merciful.
Fear of Islamic extremists
At the Easter vigil on Saturday, March 22, 2008, in the great Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome, Pope Benedict XVI baptized Magdi Allam together with six other men and women from four continents. The event had the atmospherics of Pentecost.
Allam is a very well-known journalist in Italy and a convert from Islam. The pope baptized him Magdi Cristiano Allam. Very few realized the momentousness of that event. Very few realized what a towering figure was being baptized in that almost frail-looking man. Very few realized also what courage that baptism demanded on the part of both Allam and the Pope himself.
The Muslim media was angry at Allam for his traitorous conversion from Islam to Christianity, and equally angry at Pope Benedict for his “in your face” baptism of Allam in the great Basilica of St. Peter and at a peak moment in the church’s liturgical year – the Vigil of Easter. The international daily newspaper Al Quds al Arabi wrote: "The pope provokes the indignation of Muslims by baptizing an Egyptian journalist who attacks Islam and defends Israel." Another newspaper rumbled that Allam had added more fuel to the fire of the so-called clash of civilizations. Even some in the churchly camp rumbled. Fearing angry Muslims, some maintained that the baptism should have been done less spectacularly, sub secreto even, by a lay deacon in some subterraneous crypt with which Rome abounds.
Fearless Allam, however, has criticized the church for hesitating out of fear to baptize Muslim converts in those countries where apostasy from Islam is punished with death. He has also criticized the church in some Christian countries for fearfully keeping conversions from Islam secret. There was no secrecy in Rome on the Vigil of Easter and in the great Basilica of St. Peter’s, when Pope Benedict very publicly baptized Magdi Cristiano Allam in conspectu omnium. That was not an in-your-face act; that was a great act of courage for Allam and Benedict who overcame their fear of very angry Muslims.
Fear of women
TV’s coverage of the funeral Mass for Pope John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square in Rome, April 8, 2005, was, indeed, impressive. It took place before Pentecostal thongs and on a world stage where many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Equally impressive was TV’s coverage of Pope Benedict’s recent visit to the USA, April 15-21, 2008. That event also took place on a world stage where again many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Both of those magnificent all-male performances, however, fell short of Pentecost -- the feast of openness and inclusion. Both blatantly and substantially excluded women. Out of some inexplicable fear of women (who make up more than half of the human race) the church, and the society she reflects, find it difficult to meaningfully and substantially include women. The church thereby excludes the Holy Spirit of Pentecost and inclusion.
Magnificent all-male performances do not impress Barbara Marion Horn, a feisty lass from Ireland, who studied theology at St. Francis Seminary and Marquette University in Milwaukee. After attending an ordination Mass in St. John’s Cathedral some years ago, she wrote to Archbishop Weakland:
Your Excellency, the beauty of the music, the power of the liturgy and the ancient tradition of the laying on of hands, at moments, left me breathless. The palpable joy and strength of that occasion will always be with me. But, as is the case with a growing number of Catholics, a great sadness arose in my heart; a feeling of how wrong everything was amid the beauty, the power and the strength. The procession of male clergy across the altar reverberated throughout my body: the visible reminder that the oldest, deepest exclusion, the one we are all too accustomed to, is alive and well in the bosom of my faith community.
I believe with every fiber of my being that Pope John Paul II is profoundly convinced that Jesus did not, and therefore does not, welcome women as His apostles. I have no doubt that the Holy Father is sincere in his belief that the matter of opening all the doors of the church locked to women is not within his power. This grieves me greatly. I am convinced that if Jesus were at St. John’s last Saturday, he would have whipped through the place as he did with the money changers at the Temple on another Saturday.
Though Horn speaks her position clearly she is not a cantankerous feminist. She is, in fact, very gentle and loving. She concluded her letter saying,
My prayer is that this letter is received in the same spirit in which it is sent. Originally from the East coast, I am forever grateful to have landed in Milwaukee. This archdiocese has introduced me to a Catholic Church heretofore unknown. Sts. Peter & Paul Parish here has fed my hunger for Christian formation with their abundance of programs and a pastoral team including the likes of Monica Meagher and Fr. Jack Kern--people who believe in their parishioners. This is the neighborhood parish where I first personally encountered a Bishop with whom I have had many friendly and encouraging interactions. St. Francis Seminary educated and affirmed me in ways I never dreamed possible. At the present moment, All Saints Parish ministers to my need for [Pentecostal] diversity and gospel music. It is hard to be despondent or in doubt when singing full force "All is Well" and "God has Smiled on Me."
So here I am, simultaneously holding gratitude in one hand and deep discontent in the other. The real angst is this: we are Jesus' disciples. They will know we are Christians by our love, but where is there love in exclusion?
Fear of reformers
Out of fear of the Protestant Reformers in the 16th century the church summoned the Council of Trent and understandably wrote a theology of fear which locked up all church teachings in prisons of certainty. Then she threw away the keys for four hundred long years. That theology of fear reigned from Trent (1545-1563) up to Vatican II (1962-1965). But fear which hangs around for four hundred years eventually loses its edge. When the College of Cardinals elected Cardinal Angelo Roncalli as Pope John XXIII in 1958, the mood was right and the time was ripe for change. Good Pope John looked with compassion upon his church whose doors were locked out of fear of everything: fear of Jews, Protestants, non-Christians, atheists; fear also of the world itself, the changing times and new ideas. In January of 1959 John announced his intention to convoke an ecumenical council, and when it opened on October 11, 1962, he wished his fear-filled church the peace of Jesus.
Upon the early church trembling with fear behind locked doors Jesus wished peace not once, not twice, but three times (Jn 20:19, 21, 26). When Jesus wished peace! in his Hebrew language, he said Shalom! It is a very special Hebrew word, and it’s difficult to find a one-word translation to do it justice. In fact, the 70 men (Septuagint) who translated the Old Testament from Hebrew into Greek used 25 different Greek words in different places to express the many shades of Shalom. The word is so rich in meaning that it is almost better not to translate it but simply keep it as Shalom, and that is what we usually do.
Conclusion
Shalom’s command
Shalom – Peace - is not only a wish but also a command which we give to the people beside us in the pew at the Kiss of Peace at Mass, and they in turn give the command to us. Shalom - Peace - is a command to stop our worrying and fretting; a command to blow the air out of our lungs and calm down; a command to let go and let God. Shalom – Peace - is a command to lay aside the burning anger which consumes us. Shalom – Peace - is a command to cut down to size the molehills we have built up into mountains; a command to lay hold of a sense of proportion as we weep and wail over the price of gas at the pump at a time when a massively destructive cyclone in Myanmar has left 100,000 dead and 1.5 million in desperate need. Shalom – Peace - is a command to count our blessings. Shalom – Peace - is a command to sort things out and know what’s important and what’s not. Shalom – Peace - is a command to name the fear that keeps us locked up in prisons of certainty and to open the horizons of our hearts and minds.
Shalom! Peace!
PENTECOST
Acts 2:1-11 I Corinthians 12:4-6 John 20:19-23
To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]
Introduction
Pentecost: a Jewish harvest feast
After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles from time to time in human form for forty days. Then promising to send them the Holy Spirit He ascended into heaven. (Acts 1:3; Lk 24:49) Originally, Pentecost (a Greek word meaning fiftieth day) was a Jewish harvest feast which took place on the fiftieth day after Passover. A devout Jew was then expected to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem to give thanks for the harvest. On the occasion of this harvest feast, Jesus fulfilled His promise to send the Holy Spirit. It was, indeed, a harvest feast for the first believers; they reaped nothing less than the Holy Spirit.
Pentecost: the summit of the cycle
With Pentecost we reach the summit of the liturgical cycle which began with the Son’s descent to earth in the Christmas season. It continued with the Son’s ascent back to the Father in heaven through death, resurrection and ascension. The cycle now peaks with the descent of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
With Pentecost we conclude the Easter season. The Paschal candle is blown out. Its prominence is downgraded to a less conspicuous spot near the baptismal font, and we return to Ordinary Time with its color green. We will coast along in green through the warm summer months until November 30, 2008, when we will start the cycle all over again with the first Sunday of Advent in preparation for Christmas 2008.
The openness of Pentecost
The first reading for Pentecost relates how the Holy Spirit with a loud noise came upon the little group of Galilean believers gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost. Tongues of fires came to rest upon each of them, and they began to talk in other languages.
Gathered for the feast were people from every nation under the sun, speaking diverse languages. There were Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans, Cappadocians, Asians, Phrygian, Pamphylians, Egyptians, Romans, Cretans and Arabs. When this greatly diverse throng heard the loud noise they gathered in a large crowd and were amazed at the little group of believers. They exclaimed, “These are all Galileans but we hear them preaching in our own native languages about the marvels of God” (Acts 2:9-11) Pentecost is about openness to diverse peoples.
It is also about openness to diverse gifts. In the second reading for Pentecost, Paul writes, “I would remind you that there are all different sorts of spiritual gifts, but it’s the same Spirit who gives them. There are all different kinds of service, but it is the same Spirit who is served. There are all different ways by which God works in our lives, but it is the same Spirit who is working.” (I Cor 12:4-6) Even the opening prayer for the Mass of Pentecost is about openness: “With the power of a mighty wind and by the flame of your wisdom open the horizons of our hearts and minds.”
Hearts and minds closed out of fear
But the gospel for Pentecost speaks about the horizons of hearts and minds closed by fear. John writes, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were gathered, out of fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, `Peace be with you.’” A week later the doors are still closed out of fear of the Jews.[3] ( Jn 20:19, 26)
Fear of Jews
That “fear of the Jews” would hang on for centuries right down to our very own times. Out of an inexplicable fear of Jews, German Nazis closed the horizons of their hearts and minds and refused to recognize Jews as human beings. On the eve of November 9, 1938, the Nazis rampaged through all of Germany and in one night destroyed 7000 Jewish businesses and burned down 191 synagogues. That night goes down in history as Krystallnacht -- The Night of the Shattered Glass. By the time the Nazis’ fear of Jews had expended itself, six million Jews had been offered as burnt offerings in the fiery furnaces of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Dachau.
Fear of infidels
During the Dark Ages (5th to 11th century), Islam was the center of the universe. It eclipsed Europe in the fields of medicine, chemistry, mathematics, art, poetry, spirituality and physics. But for two centuries now Islam has been on the losing side of history because of all the modernization and secularization closing in on it from the West. Out of that fear, Islamic extremists closed the horizons of their hearts and minds to Western infidels. On 9/11, 2001, some of them drove two 747s as weapons of mass destruction into the twin towers of the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan and turned three thousand innocent human beings into burnt offerings to Allah, Most Merciful.
Fear of Islamic extremists
At the Easter vigil on Saturday, March 22, 2008, in the great Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome, Pope Benedict XVI baptized Magdi Allam together with six other men and women from four continents. The event had the atmospherics of Pentecost.
Allam is a very well-known journalist in Italy and a convert from Islam. The pope baptized him Magdi Cristiano Allam. Very few realized the momentousness of that event. Very few realized what a towering figure was being baptized in that almost frail-looking man. Very few realized also what courage that baptism demanded on the part of both Allam and the Pope himself.
The Muslim media was angry at Allam for his traitorous conversion from Islam to Christianity, and equally angry at Pope Benedict for his “in your face” baptism of Allam in the great Basilica of St. Peter and at a peak moment in the church’s liturgical year – the Vigil of Easter. The international daily newspaper Al Quds al Arabi wrote: "The pope provokes the indignation of Muslims by baptizing an Egyptian journalist who attacks Islam and defends Israel." Another newspaper rumbled that Allam had added more fuel to the fire of the so-called clash of civilizations. Even some in the churchly camp rumbled. Fearing angry Muslims, some maintained that the baptism should have been done less spectacularly, sub secreto even, by a lay deacon in some subterraneous crypt with which Rome abounds.
Fearless Allam, however, has criticized the church for hesitating out of fear to baptize Muslim converts in those countries where apostasy from Islam is punished with death. He has also criticized the church in some Christian countries for fearfully keeping conversions from Islam secret. There was no secrecy in Rome on the Vigil of Easter and in the great Basilica of St. Peter’s, when Pope Benedict very publicly baptized Magdi Cristiano Allam in conspectu omnium. That was not an in-your-face act; that was a great act of courage for Allam and Benedict who overcame their fear of very angry Muslims.
Fear of women
TV’s coverage of the funeral Mass for Pope John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square in Rome, April 8, 2005, was, indeed, impressive. It took place before Pentecostal thongs and on a world stage where many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Equally impressive was TV’s coverage of Pope Benedict’s recent visit to the USA, April 15-21, 2008. That event also took place on a world stage where again many hundreds of cardinals, bishops and priests ceremoniously paraded. Both of those magnificent all-male performances, however, fell short of Pentecost -- the feast of openness and inclusion. Both blatantly and substantially excluded women. Out of some inexplicable fear of women (who make up more than half of the human race) the church, and the society she reflects, find it difficult to meaningfully and substantially include women. The church thereby excludes the Holy Spirit of Pentecost and inclusion.
Magnificent all-male performances do not impress Barbara Marion Horn, a feisty lass from Ireland, who studied theology at St. Francis Seminary and Marquette University in Milwaukee. After attending an ordination Mass in St. John’s Cathedral some years ago, she wrote to Archbishop Weakland:
Your Excellency, the beauty of the music, the power of the liturgy and the ancient tradition of the laying on of hands, at moments, left me breathless. The palpable joy and strength of that occasion will always be with me. But, as is the case with a growing number of Catholics, a great sadness arose in my heart; a feeling of how wrong everything was amid the beauty, the power and the strength. The procession of male clergy across the altar reverberated throughout my body: the visible reminder that the oldest, deepest exclusion, the one we are all too accustomed to, is alive and well in the bosom of my faith community.
I believe with every fiber of my being that Pope John Paul II is profoundly convinced that Jesus did not, and therefore does not, welcome women as His apostles. I have no doubt that the Holy Father is sincere in his belief that the matter of opening all the doors of the church locked to women is not within his power. This grieves me greatly. I am convinced that if Jesus were at St. John’s last Saturday, he would have whipped through the place as he did with the money changers at the Temple on another Saturday.
Though Horn speaks her position clearly she is not a cantankerous feminist. She is, in fact, very gentle and loving. She concluded her letter saying,
My prayer is that this letter is received in the same spirit in which it is sent. Originally from the East coast, I am forever grateful to have landed in Milwaukee. This archdiocese has introduced me to a Catholic Church heretofore unknown. Sts. Peter & Paul Parish here has fed my hunger for Christian formation with their abundance of programs and a pastoral team including the likes of Monica Meagher and Fr. Jack Kern--people who believe in their parishioners. This is the neighborhood parish where I first personally encountered a Bishop with whom I have had many friendly and encouraging interactions. St. Francis Seminary educated and affirmed me in ways I never dreamed possible. At the present moment, All Saints Parish ministers to my need for [Pentecostal] diversity and gospel music. It is hard to be despondent or in doubt when singing full force "All is Well" and "God has Smiled on Me."
So here I am, simultaneously holding gratitude in one hand and deep discontent in the other. The real angst is this: we are Jesus' disciples. They will know we are Christians by our love, but where is there love in exclusion?
Fear of reformers
Out of fear of the Protestant Reformers in the 16th century the church summoned the Council of Trent and understandably wrote a theology of fear which locked up all church teachings in prisons of certainty. Then she threw away the keys for four hundred long years. That theology of fear reigned from Trent (1545-1563) up to Vatican II (1962-1965). But fear which hangs around for four hundred years eventually loses its edge. When the College of Cardinals elected Cardinal Angelo Roncalli as Pope John XXIII in 1958, the mood was right and the time was ripe for change. Good Pope John looked with compassion upon his church whose doors were locked out of fear of everything: fear of Jews, Protestants, non-Christians, atheists; fear also of the world itself, the changing times and new ideas. In January of 1959 John announced his intention to convoke an ecumenical council, and when it opened on October 11, 1962, he wished his fear-filled church the peace of Jesus.
Upon the early church trembling with fear behind locked doors Jesus wished peace not once, not twice, but three times (Jn 20:19, 21, 26). When Jesus wished peace! in his Hebrew language, he said Shalom! It is a very special Hebrew word, and it’s difficult to find a one-word translation to do it justice. In fact, the 70 men (Septuagint) who translated the Old Testament from Hebrew into Greek used 25 different Greek words in different places to express the many shades of Shalom. The word is so rich in meaning that it is almost better not to translate it but simply keep it as Shalom, and that is what we usually do.
Conclusion
Shalom’s command
Shalom – Peace - is not only a wish but also a command which we give to the people beside us in the pew at the Kiss of Peace at Mass, and they in turn give the command to us. Shalom - Peace - is a command to stop our worrying and fretting; a command to blow the air out of our lungs and calm down; a command to let go and let God. Shalom – Peace - is a command to lay aside the burning anger which consumes us. Shalom – Peace - is a command to cut down to size the molehills we have built up into mountains; a command to lay hold of a sense of proportion as we weep and wail over the price of gas at the pump at a time when a massively destructive cyclone in Myanmar has left 100,000 dead and 1.5 million in desperate need. Shalom – Peace - is a command to count our blessings. Shalom – Peace - is a command to sort things out and know what’s important and what’s not. Shalom – Peace - is a command to name the fear that keeps us locked up in prisons of certainty and to open the horizons of our hearts and minds.
[1]By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24
[3] Scholars now point out that “for fear of the Jews” should be understood as “for fear of the Jewish authorities.” Such understanding can correct the anti-Semitism which lurks in a careless reading of John’s gospel.
