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.
The people were gathered for the Hebrew festival of gathering the wheat, known in that time as Pentecost. Once gathered, they heard this sound, that sounded like a violent wind. I’m intrigued by the notion that the sound was described as a violent wind. Not a strong wind, or a powerful wind. To suggest that the wind sounded violent implies some sense of dread. I know that feeling.
Living in the heavily wooded Northwest, I recall the sound of violent wind and being very fearful. We were surrounded by tall evergreens, which are shallow-rooted by nature. Toppled trees were always a risk from the late winter violent winds. Hearing the wind howl against the house and through the trees made you hold your breath waiting for any creaking or cracking after. When silence was the resulting sound, we took a collective grateful exhale.
Not only was the sound a violent wind, but then divided tongues as of fire descended on all of them, with a fiery tongue resting on each. If the violent wind didn’t strike fear, I’d think that would.
Finally, they all started speaking in languages that each other understood. Um, frightening. Maybe, but maybe not.
This is a people who believed in and knew their Scripture. One of the sadder stories for their once-united community was the drama at the Tower of Babel. After their salvation from the great flood (of Noah’s fame), the united people wrongly decided to build a tower tall enough to reach heaven. They built and built, and eventually ticked off God who had already said that they couldn’t and shouldn’t try with humanly means to reach the Holy. As a result of their pride and stubbornness, God struck them and made them speak different languages so all of a sudden they could not understand each other, and as a result, could not remain a united single people of God.
Now, with the fiery tongues and violent wind, they were once again able to understand each other. The Holy Spirit had effectively undone the division created by their pride. Granted, the ability to understand and speak in each other’s languages didn’t last forever, but they saw what the Sprit could do.
This morning, I’m thinking about how the Spirit is breaking down the barriers that divide, and what I might do to help that unity. I live in a divided community – racially, economically, beliefs, politics, status. I suspect if we looked around, we all do. What can I do, through the power of the violent winds and fiery tongues, to help bring people together? How can the have’s share with the have-not’s? How can people of differing Christian faith traditions come together, knowing we share one God, and are all blown about by the same violent wind? Why aren’t we at least a little frightened by the power of the Spirit? At least frightened enough to work together.
Today, I’m going to think about one specific thing I might do. I think it will involve gathering a better understanding of the faith communities around me. Maybe we can gather, and realize that at least for that moment, the power of the Spirit has allowed us to speak and clearly understand each other.
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