Sunday, May 23, 2021

Pentecost


We human beings are very good at noticing differences.
We notice when someone’s way of talking is different,
or the kind of food they eat,
or their skin tone or hair texture,
or the shape of their nose or eyes.
And we divide the world up 
according to these differences,
creating a sense of “us” and “them,”
of insiders and outsiders, 
of the ordinary and the exotic.
People respond to these differences
in different ways.
Some see differences as superficial things 
that are best ignored 
and not spoken of in polite company—
potential sources of conflict to be overcome
by pretending that we really are all the same.
Others see differences as things so threatening
that those who are different 
must be controlled or excluded or eliminated,
by circling our wagons and locking our doors.
Still others see differences as generating 
a diversity so deep and identities so fixed
that we cannot possibly imagine the experience 
of those possessing a different identity,
much less form a single human family.

We human beings are good at noticing differences,
but we often don’t do difference well.
We either seek to ignore it or eliminate it,
or we make it so absolute 
that there is no possibility 
for unity across our differences.

But the Holy Spirit does difference differently.

The story of Pentecost depicts a large crowd 
gathered in Jerusalem from various lands—
all Jews, to be sure,
but still people of different languages and customs:
Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and so forth.
But as the Spirit-filled apostles begin to speak to them,
proclaiming the Good News of the risen Christ,
each of them hears the words in his or her own language.

The story of Pentecost is sometimes seen 
against the backdrop of the story 
of the Tower of Babel,
in which humanity’s attempt 
to make a name for itself
by building a tower to the heavens
is thwarted by God’s confusion of their speech,
giving rise to different human languages
and furthering the divisions that sin creates.
But Pentecost is no mere reversal of Babel.
It is not the elimination 
of the diversity of human language,
but rather it is the giving of a Spirit 
that makes understanding possible
even in the face of difference,
a Spirit that accommodates itself to difference
even as it unites those whom difference might divide.

The Holy Spirit does difference differently.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians tells us 
that the Spirit not only accommodates difference,
but creates difference through the giving of diverse gifts.
Some are given wisdom, others knowledge,
others gifts of healing, still others prophecy, 
and yet others discernment.
The one Spirit does not make us all the same,
but rather makes us each unique,
for we each receive the gifts of the Spirit in our own way
and manifest the gift of the Spirit in our own way.
And yet, Paul tells us,
while there are different kinds of spiritual gifts, 
it is the same Spirit who gives them;
while there are different forms of service, 
it is the same Lord who is being served;
while there are different works being worked,
it is the same God who is at work in us,
giving us a diversity of gifts 
that are to be used for the benefit of the whole:
“As a body is one though it has many parts,
and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body,
so also Christ.”
The community called together by the Spirit 
into the one body of Christ
not by the erasure of difference,
but by the Spirit’s graceful guidance.

The Holy Spirit does difference differently.

And as we come to see how these differences flow forth
from the one Spirit, the one Lord, the one God,
we can begin to see other differences—
differences of race and ethnicity,
differences of culture and experience— 
as being likewise rooted in God’s wise providence.
St. Thomas Aquinas says that God 
could have created a world of sameness,
a world with only one kind of thing in it.
He notes that such a world 
might have had less conflict in it,
since difference can indeed be a source of conflict—
a world with only lions or only lambs 
is a lot less bloody
than one with both lions and lambs.
But a world without variety and difference
is also an impoverished world:
would you really want a world 
without either lions or lambs?
According to St. Thomas,
a world that encompasses difference 
better reflects the infinite goodness 
and perfection of God.
And a church that encompasses difference—
the differing gifts of the Spirit
as well as the providential differences 
of ethnicity, culture, race, and experience—
better reflects the reality of Christ,
of whose body we are members.

The Spirit does difference differently,
neither seeing it as a threat,
nor ignoring its reality,
nor letting it eclipse our common identity
as those who have been given to drink 
of the one Spirit.
Through the power of the Spirit
the risen Jesus steps through our locked doors
and speaks to us the word he spoke
to the disciples in the upper room:
Peace.

In the midst of a world 
in which difference 
often generates conflict
or is seen as a threat,
he gives us through the Spirit 
the gift of his peace,
calling us to embody that peace:
“As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
May God’s Spirit accompany us as we go forth,
so that we may be for the world 
the peace he has spoken to us,
and may God have mercy on us all. 

Saturday, May 8, 2021

Easter 6


You can learn some amazing things on the internet,
particularly if you frequent the fever swamps
of Twitter or Reddit or, God forbid, 
the comments section of the New York Times.
For example, I have learned that there are certain people
that you are allowed to hate, 
though who those people are depends on your tribe.
In certain circles, you are allowed to hate those 
who like the music of the St. Louis Jesuits,
or those who like the old Latin Mass.
You are allowed to hate 
those who say you have a moral obligation
to get vaccinated against Covid-19,
or those who are hesitant about getting vaccinated.
You are allowed to hate 
those who hold the Church’s traditional view on human sexuality,
or those who are gay or lesbian or transgender,
those who say that black lives matter,
or those who say that all lives matter,
those who believe that President Biden won a free and fair election,
or those who believe that the last election was stolen.

I have also learned that the relative anonymity of the internet
helps you to reduce people to positions,
and in so doing strip them 
of the complexity and richness and paradox
that accompanies every human life.
I have learned that you can call such people 
scum or fascists or homophobes 
or libtards or feminazis or just-plain-old-Nazis
or really anything you like,
because, well, they are wrong.
And I have learned that if you show any respect
to those who are wrong,
if you suggest that they might not 
be reducible to their mistaken opinion,
or if you suggest that something 
other than hatred and mockery might be called for
in persuading them to change their views,
then you are aiding and abetting them 
in their wrongness,
and you are just as bad as they are.

Yes, you can learn some amazing things on the internet,
where anonymity enables contempt,
and the contempt that we learn there spills over
into our daily lives and our personal interactions,
poisons our politics and contaminates our culture.

But you can also learn some amazing things 
in the Holy Scriptures.
You can learn that Jesus commands us 
to love one another as he has loved us.
You can learn that whoever is without love 
does not know God, for God is love.
You can learn that we are all called
to become friends of God
and therefore friends of each other,
even to the point of laying down our lives.
You can learn that God’s Holy Spirit
transforms enemies into friends,
that God shows no partiality,
that even a hated Gentile like Cornelius,
who is not only a Roman 
but part of an occupying army,
can receive God’s favor 
and become a new creation.

Please do not misunderstand me.
Right and wrong do exist.
People do hold views and take actions
that are not simply mistaken, but sinful.
We do have a moral obligation to point out untruths,
to offer fraternal correction to the erring,
to spring to the defense 
of the oppressed and defenseless,
even to denounce error and sin 
in ways that might occasion offense.
But we also have a moral obligation—
indeed, a command from Jesus Christ himself—
to do all this in such a way
that we speak the truth in love,
to speak of those with whom we disagree
as if they were someone’s beloved child or sibling.
Because that is what they are:
they are beloved children of God
and, at least potentially, 
our brother or sister in Christ.

Over the past few decades,
as our world has become more secularized,
it has become common to hear people talk about 
how the Church must become more “counter-cultural”:
how even in the face of worldly rejection and ridicule
Christians are called to hold fast to the Gospel 
and resist the negative trends
that are present in modern, secular culture. 
And we can all think of ways in which Catholic beliefs and values 
go against the current of a variety of cultural trends:
in advocating for the dignity of human life 
from conception to natural death,
in holding to the permanence and sanctity of marriage,
in teaching that private ownership is not an absolute value
but is directed to the common good and flourishing of all,
in criticizing nationalist and racist ideologies
that divide the human family.

More and more it seems to me, however,
that the most countercultural teaching of the Gospel,
is Jesus’ command, “love one another.”
This is the Gospel teaching that,
if put into practice, 
will engender rejection and ridicule,
that will even get you called an enemy of humanity,
a collaborator with evil and a corruptor of morality.
It is also the Gospel teaching that,
if not put into practice,
will make the countercultural stance of the Church
into just one more form of tribal rivalry.

Believe me, I know from experience 
how hard this teaching is;
I am in no way free of the dark impulse
to try to dismiss and destroy
those with whom I disagree.
Yet for us who claim the name of Christian
this is the true line in the sand 
that must not be crossed;
this is the non-negotiable truth.
As the poet W. H. Auden put it:
“We must love one another or die.”
For whoever is without love—
the love that is God’s Spirit poured into our hearts,
the love that breaches the barriers of human enmity, 
the love that lays down its life—
does not know God, for God is love.
So let us pray that the God who loves us
would give us a share in his love, 
and may God have mercy on us all.