31 May 2020 – Sermon for Whit Sunday

The term Pentecost was one which I came to somewhat later in life.  Growing up, it had always been, and probably always will be, Whitsun.  It was undoubtedly a major feast, but not particularly of the church.  Whitsun was a time for holidays, new clothes, wondering whether the policemen would be in full uniform or shirt sleeves, and above all, walking.  That was what Whitsun was about.

In the north, in my youth, Whitsun was about walking, through the streets, with brass bands and huge banners; stopping the traffic; and for some (though not for me) and an extra day’s holiday from school on Whit Monday or Whit Friday. 

Whitsun was, overall about two things:  Coming together as a community; and showing off.  Which churches had the best band; the most scholars in the Sunday School;  whose scholars were the best turned out;  the best banners; the best tea afterwards.  All of these, seemlingly insignificant trifles meant much to communities who often had little to celebrate.  They helped to bring cohesion – though they were, and are, essentially inward looking.  These are celebrations for the ‘in-crowd’ – incomers and strangers, let alone those from other faith traditions, must be utterly bewildered.

In that respect, they’re not much different to that first Pentecost which we heard read about from Acts.  Something entirely unexpected and ‘other’ happening.

It might not surprise you to hear that I’m always slightly suspicious when I hear Pentecost spoken of as the birthday of the church, or the coming of the Holy Spirit.  Our Gospel reading makes it clear that the Holy Spirit had always been with God’s people; had never (and we might add would never) desert them.  The Church – though not as we know it – was already existent.  Over the fifty days since Easter, they had been coming to terms with what had happened.  They spent their time, as we’re told elsewhere in Acts, worshipping God in the temple.  It wasn’t a wasted time, but rather a settling time. 

The defining feature for me about Pentecost is that it took this comfortable existence and shook it up.  Had Pentecost never happened, the disciples would probably have remained a small and insignificant sect in the Roman province of Judea, waiting to be wiped out as a consequence of the Jewish Revolt in the years after 66AD.

This small group, though, were changed by these 50 days, and in doing so, the world was changed too.  The real heart of the message of Pentecost lies in the sending out.  Our Ascension readings contained the line “go and make disciples of all men” – and Pentecost is the push.  The sending out to spread the Good News (the Euangelion) of the new ruler of the world across the whole known world.

This might, of course, make this Pentecost more difficult than most.  Spreading – at least the coronavirus – is what we least want to do at the moment.  With over 60,000 cumulative deaths, a daily death rate in the 300s, and nearly three months of lockdown, now is certainly not the time to be going forth and multiplying this particular problem. 

The Coronvirus, though, is not the only infectious thing.  The Good News of the kingdom is infectious too.  The way in which it spread in the early years, and has continued to do so, is testament to the enduring truths of the Gospel.  Despite war, famine, plague, racism, slavery and all the ills of modern society, the essential message of the Gospel has never been changed.  We, each of us, are known and loved by God, and in our lives we show what that means.  This year, we might be better doing that from our homes than in our churches and in the streets.  It’s no less a sharing of the love of Christ than Whit Walks, band contests or hog roasts.  Their time will come again, but, for this year, our love for each other is best shown by keeping ourselves and others safe.