Day of Pentecost (Year 4, NL)

Compared to other attributes we assign to God, cherishing has received little attention. It’s easily absorbed into the broader category of love. Yet cherishing is a specific kind of love—one the inspires deep commitment.

It’s been seven years, and I cannot access Jesus' word of peace. The tears still sting and slosh over my pail of remorse.

For my money, John’s is the only Gospel in which Jesus seems really lonely.

Back in the dark ages of the 20^th century, I remember an ad for the Yellow Pages that urged, “Let your fingers do the walking.” Now that texting has become the preferred means of communication, it seems our fingers actually do the talking.

I’ve been thinking about the complexity of communication with God, especially the challenge of praying at times when words are hard to come by. In response to such a dilemma, Paul essentially tells the Romans to let the Spirit do the talking.

Our brains are wired to allow us to read each other's minds, to feel each other's person.

With every cycle of our respiratory systems, we are sustained by the same intimate inspiration God exhaled into Adam’s muddy lungs. That breath permeates every cell of our being, nose to toes, invigorating our bodies and minds and souls until it is ready to be released, silently, from the same nostrils through which it came.

This is as ordinary as oxygen and carbon dioxide, and as extraordinary as spirit and miracle.

We might Bible-study our way through most of this difficult parable, but what do we do with the guest who is pulled in off the streets and then kicked out?

It's commonly suggested that the Pentecost story is a reversal of the chaotic separation of the Tower of Babel. That point gets debated. What isn't debatable is that people remain separated in abundant ways.

The Spirit's power is the power to bear witness.

At times I will again be struck by the smallness of the thing, of this bit of bread and sip of wine.