Sermon, The Feast of Pentecost
St. Paul’s Lutheran Church
Newark, Delaware
Pastor Bruce Allen Heggen
19 May 2002

Acts 2:1-21
I Corinthians 12:3b-13
John 20:19-23

PARTNERS AND FRIENDS
IN THE POWER OF THE SPIRIT

Sister and Brothers:Grace and Peace, from God who gives us life and longing, and from Jesus Christ, our Centre and our Saviour. Amen.

One of the more embarrassing moments of my life in campus ministry was when students at Dartmouth College outed me as a person with a soft spot for country western music. We were heading from church back to the parsonage for Sunday dinner, and Matt asked if he could turn the car radio on. I said, “sure,” and remembered too late what we were about to hear, which we did: a tape of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band singing,

Just as long as Johnny’s got his fiddle,
and Jimmy’s got his drums along,
and Jeffy and me and Bobby will be
Singin’ all our favorite songs.
Catchin’ fire from the folks in the front row,
Fannin’ flames as the beat gets strong.
It’s great to be a part of somethin’ so good that’s lasted so long.

Matt had just been accepted to Yale Divinity School, and was planning to become a pastor. He seized the moment to practice ahead on pastoral care101. He said, "that’s okay, pastor, I like some country western music sometimes, too."
. . . . Gee thanks Matt.
. . . . Actually, I think it’s a pretty good song. Actually, I think it’s a pretty good Pentecost song. I think it could be a good song about the church: you’ve got a group of musicians on the road, and they’re committed to something wonderful, which is good music, and they have good energy and they’ve got a group of fans who like what they do. They also have bus break-downs and problems in their marriages and sometimes they have bad colds but suddenly they’re on stage and doing the thing that’s most important which is to make music: just as long as Johnny’s got his fiddle, and Jimmy’s got his drums along . . . Like being in the church, it’s great to be a part of somethin’ so good that’s lasted so long.
. . . . Harrumph, I hear some people say: what’s good about it?
. . . . There’s almost not a day, for instance, that that does not bring something about “the church” into the news. Most of it is not good news. The constant reporting of the scandal of clergy sexual abuse in the Roman Catholic Church, and some other denominations as well, has almost gotten to the point where we are more bored than horrified by the most recent break in the story. About ten days ago the New York Times reported again about the decline of “denominations” and the growth of “megachurches.” The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America is reported to be the fourth largest Protestant denomination in the United States after Southern Baptists, United Methodists . . . and Mormons. Most denominations are being torn apart by differing agendas regarding social concerns, and in particular, regarding the inclusion of people who understand themselves to be gay, lesbian, or bisexual. For Lutherans, the only issue as contentious is the ecumenical relationship we have established with the Episcopalians. In many denominations the discussions are uncharitable and acrimonious; several years ago, Tim Lull, president of Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, California, said to a group of campus pastors, “Let’s admit it: for many of us the ELCA has been a great disappointment.” His point was not to complain, but to say: denial doesn’t get us very far. One of the ways of responding to that disappointment in ours and in many denominations has been the withholding of contributions to support church structures and programs. Some people complain that such withholding is a demonstration of people’s lack of confidence in the church; others point out both more charitably and more accurately that many people find themselves caught between rising costs of living and fewer resources for earning a living, and the money is simply not there to give. These things come close to home: Jerry Knoche, the bishop of the Delaware Maryland Synod, wrote to each of the pastors and congregations of the synod several weeks ago to say that the level of financial support of the synod has not kept pace with the synod budget, and that after two years of deficit spending, the reserves are gone: synod support for many ministries must be cut, and support for others will be maintained at the current level. With so long a list of laments, the sign above the church door should probably read, “Welcome to Lake Woebegone.” With so much contention and frustration, who would need anything like this? The church: what’s good about it? There’s nothing here but a depressing litany of crises.
. . . . Well, what else is new? From day one, the New Testament makes clear, the church has never not been in crisis. Luke reports in the book of Acts that the spirit of God came to a very scared and very small group of helpless, hopeless men and women, and gave them courage to speak of Jesus. St. Paul wrote his letters to churches, most of whom were no less contentious than we are over matters of morality and authority. St. John’s book of Revelation is written to give confidence and hope to a church suffering from the persecution of Nero. St. Augustine wrote that the church would survive weak and faithless clergy who saved their own necks by turning their congregations over to their oppressors. St. Martin Luther reminded us that where men and women gathered in the name of Jesus, the church was present in spite of spiritual and exploitation by bishops and popes. The church has never not been in crisis, and the church has never not endured beyond a particular crisis because the church is not our possession to protect; the church is God’s gift to us: a place to know God’s grace and forgiveness and healing and love and power. And the church is not “up to us” – the church is dependent only on God’s faithfulness. And God is faithful, even when we will not or cannot be faithful.
. . . . So the church is good, first, because God is here, and God calls us to be here in God’s presence, here in this place. And the church is good, next, because we are here, responding to God’s call. We do not “make” the church, however: Jesus makes the church, and we are brought into the church which is Christ’s body when we hear his call to us. The Spirit of God whose presence in the world we celebrate on Pentecost is the Spirit of our crucified and risen Lord Jesus: and we respond to the call of Jesus because Jesus offers us something we sense that we need and trust that we can find here, for all the failures and faults of the church as a human institution. The soul and heartbeat of the church is Jesus, not an organization or denomination; and where Jesus is present, good things happen, and somehow we know that. Where Jesus is, the sick are healed: and not just the emotionally and spiritually sick but the physically ill also know relief when Jesus touches them. Where Jesus is, the hungry and thirsty are fed and given something to drink: and not just those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, but those who hunger and thirst, period: that’s why in the name of Jesus, Christians establish food pantries, and have pot lucks from which no one is excluded. We live in a world that is rightly frightened by lawlessness and terror: we live in a world where secular authorities seek to find those guilty of crime, and to bring them to justice. Jesus, too, is concerned about justice and accountability: but with a slightly different twist; for where Jesus is, justice is not simply a matter of guilt and punishment. Where Jesus is, justice is a matter of confessing sin, receiving forgiveness, and changing one’s life. And where Jesus is, none of us can escape his razored scrutiny of judgment and love.
. . . . There is another thing that is good about the church. Saint John tells us that after his resurrection, Jesus breathed on his disciples and promised them that, whatever happened, they would never be bereft of his presence; and he gave them the gift of the power to forgive and be reconciled with one another. And Saint Luke tells us that when the Holy Spirit of the crucified and risen Jesus came to his disciples a dove of peace came down to them to quell their anxiety and take away the edges of their differences of opinion; and they were touched with the power of fiery speech to proclaim the truth of their experience of Jesus. When this happens to the people of God, it does not remove all reason for complaint. But where Jesus is, lament is turned to praise. We gather in this place as God’s people, not because we have nothing to worry about: we gather, rather, because God hears our complaint, and listens: surely, here in this place God bears our griefs and carries our sorrows; here in this place as in no other we are able to honest about what moves us, what irritates us, what frightens us, what hurts. But in the presence of the crucified and risen Jesus God takes all our dying and raises it up into new joy.
. . . . So the church is in trouble: so what else is new? We are a people with colds and problems in our families, and sometimes the bus breaks down, and we’re anxious about the future, and we’re dismayed about the sometimes hostile and cantankerous ways we express our disagreement about issues that seem to threaten the unity of God’s church. And yet, again today we have been drawn to gather in the power of the Spirit and in response to God’s call to sing our praise to Jesus. We do it in many ways and with a variety of resources: with texts as ancient as the Psalms and as modern as this morning’s headlines; some of the music is from the fourteenth century and some is from the twenty-first. We do it sometimes with drums and guitars, and sometimes with the Zimbelstern to catch our attention as we sing “Holy, Holy, Holy” with all the people of God from every time and every place. Some rhythms are from nineteenth century Norway and some from post-apartheid South Africa, and some from just around the corner in the ’hood. But all these serve the purpose of the praise of God, and it is that that makes this gathering good:

Just as long as David’s at the organ,
And Lauri brings the choir along.
And John and me and you, we’ll all be
Singin’ all our favorite songs.
Catchin’ fire from Christians far away as Asia,
Fannin’ flames as the beat gets strong:
It’s great to be a part of something so good that’s lasted so long.

Amen.

Ibbotson, Jimmy, and Jeff Hanna, “Partners, Brothers and Friends.” On CD recording, Twenty Years of Dirt: The Best of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Warner Brothers Records, Inc. (W2 25382), 1986.

LINKS TO SERMONS
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