A section of the stunning window in the 'west-end' of St Paul's Melbourne
Over the last few days it's been a delight to spend time with old friends Andreas and Katherine, and also Gillian our former organ scholar; it's been an equal delight to meet new colleagues/friends and to explore a wonderful city. Bringing with me greetings from the Cathedral Church of the Holy Spirit in Guildford, it was an honour to preach at the Choral Eucharist at St Paul'sl Cathedral, Melbourne. The readings were: Acts 2:1-21; Romans 8:14-17; John 14:8-17, 25-7.
As we celebrate this feast of Pentecost, may the Spirit renew our vision, kindle in us the fire of love and bring forth fruit in our lives for the sake of God's Kingdom: in the name of God Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
What's your story?
That's the question posed by visitors to the State Library this month: already home to millions of stories, treasures and curiosities about the Victoria's history, we're all invited to file our own story to add to their collection. On Instagram, interactive displays or on special catalogue cards there are messages about romance and heartbreak; family and change; hopes and memories; quirky statements
of identity.
What's your story?
Exploring the art, culture and history of new places over the last couple of weeks has been a thought provoking and delightful experience for me. Spending time with family has been a process of sharing stories about life and work, politics and faith - creating space for connection, laughter, discovery, and banter. It's about identity, yes; but it's also been about purpose. Who are we? What's important to us? What might our legacy be?
Those personal stories don't exist in isolation. They're woven into a complex matrix of narratives; layers and patterns of meaning, waves of disruption. Every gallery, exhibition, museum and garden; every tour, beach and cathedral has an impact. Learning new things and deepening my understanding; being inspired or having my curiosity aroused.
When we encounter something new - or the unexpected other - we adapt and change. Stories get re-written. We ask how well we know ourselves; we change in response to our encounters with others. We confront our prejudices and revise our first impressions. Although its relatively easy for a Brit to fit in here - belonging is intensified when you catch an accent from home.
What's your story?
Family, food, names, dress, daily rituals and, above all, our language roots us. The stuff of our dreams, our emotional reactions, the expression of our senses and the testing of ideas - all of that is so much easier in our mother tongue. When we lose our language, we lose part of our ourselves.
To name that reality heightens the significance of what today's celebration of Pentecost is about.
Today we are caught up in the transmission of a story which is both intensely personal and also cosmic in scope. It's a story which stretches language to the limits of imagination, passion and extravagance: rushing wind, tongues of flame, exuberant speech.
This story reveals the intimacy and power with which God communicates his love for us.
One of the many striking things about this story is that amidst the amazement, bewilderment and sneering, there is a radical home coming. People hear in their native tongue; in the the language of their heart.
This shouldn't surprise us: it is in continuity with the expression of God's love in the diversity of creation; in the commandments to love; in faithful calling and recalling in wilderness, exile and restoration. In the face of our human tendency for our desires to misdirected to things we consume or control, God's love remains faithful. In response to our propensity to exclude and wound - and our experience of being wounded and excluded - God comes to be with us.
This is our story.
John's Gospel began with the declaration that the Word became flesh; the Son who abided with the Father dwelt with us. His identity was revealed all that he said and did: in words spoken to Nicodemus under the cover of darkness and to a Samaritan woman in the glare of noonday sun; on the boarder zones of blindness and sight; at a wedding feast in Cana and in the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. In all this he brought life in all its fullness in the embodied language of touch, taste and gesture.
The language of God's love, forgiveness and mercy, is expressed in Jesus physical death and risen life in the body. In going to the depths of human despair and alienation, to those places even when we lose ourselves, there is no longer anywhere where God's love is not. Christ's risen life, calls us to new life. In the power of the Spirit, he calls and recalls each of us by name.
This is the promise of abundant life - not just for a few, but for the whole world. In advance of his death and resurrection, Jesus speaks words of farewell to his disciples. His words express enduring presence, not aching absence.
The promised Spirit, the Advocate, continues to guide and inspire us; drawing us more deeply into truth; enabling us to take risks as we improvise on the theme of God's love in all that we do and say. It's a risky and costly pattern of life: speaking with hope rather than colluding with fear; offering compassion not resentment.
The Spirit speaks of energy and movement; imaginative creativity and prophetic challenge: wind, flame and breath.
The Advocate speaks of peace, comfort and courage; of a presence that guards against loneliness; of the pursuit of wisdom in uncertainty.
Today we celebrate that that is how God communicates with us still: holding, loving, guiding and inspiring with every breath.
This is our story.
The power of God is revealed in the core of our identity; moving close to us in the recognisable, authentic and compelling pattern of a rhythm of speech. We 'hear' that God knows and understands us - every hurt and hope, every joy and regret, every fear and desire.
This is love: restoring, forgiving, compassionate and transformative.
Today we are presented with a vision for how human beings become channels of such love - to be transmitters or translators; to be embodiments of God's story.
Paul reminds us that we are caught up in the process of salvation: some thing decisive has been accomplished in the reconciling love of God in Jesus' death and resurrection; the gift of the Spirit is at work within us, and all creation, as we await the fulfilment of God's Kingdom.
In baptism, we are now adopted children - heirs through grace. Our kinship is manifested in the way in which the Spirit bears fruit in our lives: enabling us to grow in patience and kindness; kindling in us generosity and joy; fostering the capacity to be gentle and forgiving. All these incremental shifts in virtue begin with the cry of prayer - Abba, Father.
That cry of prayer is reassuringly simple and intimate: our Father. It is memorable, profound and transformative: thy kingdom come. It is prayed second by second in 100s of languages; yet, we are united in one language, that of God's Spirit in our human hearts.
This is our story.
But not ours alone. Assurance of God's love and presence is not a gift to possess; but a gift for the sake of the world. In world of upheaval where men, women and children seek freedom and a better life; when they flee conflict and disaster we have a story which speaks to the human heart. We have a language of kinship that transcends ethnicity and status; we proclaim a Kingdom where all have an honoured place.
This iconic holy place in the heart of a city stands amidst the clamour of sirens, birdsong and trams; it stands at a busy intersection, with commuters, the homeless and fashionistas, the student and the refugee. Here, in this place, your welcome releases gifts in others. Gifts of hospitality and conversation; gifts of advocacy and a concern for justice.
You are a dynamic holy people: you live, worship and work in the heart of this city and beyond. Wherever you are, the Spirit is at work in you: in acts of encouragement and compassion; in your skill and creativity; in your public service and private devotion. In all this, people come to know, explore and respond to the love of God; they worship in the language of their heart; they grow in fellowship, learning a second language.
The Eucharist is our food, our family, our ritual, our language, our identity.
As we touch and taste bread and wine; as we receive God's blessing, may we be renewed as Christ's body. Your story is God's story; God's story is revealed in your lives.
In the power of the Holy Spirit, may we like those Galileans in Acts, witness to the love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ.
Julie Gittoes © 2016
