THE DAY OF PENTECOST:

It’s Not A Birth Until There’s Breath

(Acts 2:1-21; I Corinthians 12:3-13; John 20:19-23)

To the Moms in attendance here this morning: Happy Mother’s Day!  Of course I’m not a mother.  But do you remember those commercials on television a few years back?  The actor/spokesman would begin by saying, “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV.”  Well, as I said, I’m not a mother, but I was there when my wife Jeanette became one….  Now before you go thinking the wrong thing, I’m just talking about being in the delivery room here!

It was June of 1987.  Jeanette and I had been married for nearly seven years at that point and our parents (especially mine) were anxiously looking for grandchildren from us.  Especially what would be, in my parent’s case, their first grandchild.  But we had decided to wait until I had finished seminary, and more importantly had received a call.  In other words, making some money!

So there we were living in rural Kentucky when Jeanette got pregnant.  I still remember those days, just like they were yesterday.  I remember the bouts of morning sickness which afflicted Jeanette at any and all hours of the day and night.  I remember how, when it got really bad, the only thing she could keep down in her stomach was McDonald’s hamburgers and french fries…  Of course, being the ever dutiful husband, I would volunteer to make a Mickey D’s run whenever she needed one.  And I also remember that, the next time we went to her doctor for a check-up, Jeanette had gained 10 pounds, but I had gained 20!

I also remember the day that Jeanette informed me that her feet had disappeared, and I got all concerned until I realized that what she meant was that she couldn’t see them anymore.  And I remember the fashion-challenged maternity clothes, the back aches and swollen legs, her being constantly tired – as if some kind of parasite was growing inside of her and sucking every ounce of energy and nourishment out of her, which, in a manner of speaking, was what was actually happening, I guess.

I remember the mood swings, and the lack of patience, and, as her due date neared, the desire for it all to just be finally over with!  And, most of all, I remember thinking that I was glad it wasn’t me!  As my mother-in-law likes to say, and I wholeheartedly agree, “If men had to have the babies, there wouldn’t be any more children in this world.”  So my hat’s off to you, Moms, you deserve it!

Well, getting back to our own first experience with motherhood, I was serving two small congregations at that time, one in town and the other out in the country.  The town church had the early service on Sunday mornings so that the country church could then have the late service, which would allow the dairy farmers in the congregation (of which there were several) to get their milking done before going to church.

On this particular morning there had been a baptism at the late service (the little boy’s name was Adam Weiss), and afterwards his grandmother had invited us, along with the family, over to her house for dinner.  We then had an enjoyable time visiting with the Weiss clan, and when Jeanette I returned home later that afternoon we both laid down for naps, Jeanette upstairs in our bedroom, and me downstairs on the couch.

I remember that I was pretty tired and quickly fell into a rather deep sleep.  But then, suddenly, at one point I was awakened by a “thud” from upstairs, which my mind quickly concluded (even in its groggy state) was the sound of feet hitting the floor.  The thud was then quickly followed by frantic footsteps running across the second story of the parsonage in the direction of the bathroom.  Obviously it was Jeanette.  And I remember thinking to myself, “Boy she hasn’t moved that fast in, oh… about nine months now.”

Then it suddenly hit me.  Nine months?  Holy cow, this is it!  The baby is here!  And I ran up the stairs, taking three at a time, and found Jeanette in the bathroom.  “I think my water broke,” she said.  In retrospect, what other explanation could there have been.  But being first-timers at this, we still called the hospital anyway, and after listening to Jeanette’s description of what had just taken place, they told us to come on in.

Now we had taken the “healthy pregnancy” course over at the hospital, and we had our checklist ready and our bags packed, so to speak.  But I was running around mindlessly in a hundred different directions until Jeanette finally grabbed me by the arm, squeezed it, and said, “The contractions are coming closer now – GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!”

So I did.  And just about an hour later, on June 28, 1987, a little after eight o’clock in the evening, Kristyn Marie Kropa was born.  For a small, rural, community hospital they were actually pretty advanced and sophisticated.  Labor and delivery both took place in what they called a “birthing room” which was decorated to look like your own bedroom at home, complete with tables and dressers and lamps and even a rocking chair.

And there were plenty of nurses available, as well.  One of them actually took our camera and snapped picture while I got to cut the umbilical cord and then gently place Kristyn in a warm LeBoyer bath.

But the moment I will always remember the most, the moment I will always cherish, the moment when it all suddenly became a reality for me, was when Kristyn took her first breaths… and then started to cry, that telltale bleat or whimper of a newborn.

Up until that very moment, you see, there were nine months of development and preparation and anticipation and excitement, but until she took those first breaths it was all just “potential” – that is to say, everything necessary for life was in place and had taken place – but only then was all that potential turned into reality. Only when our daughter took her first few breaths outside the womb was there a birth… of course, to be technical, a live birth.

You see, already at that point, early in my ministry, I had sat and listened as a parishioner painfully described for me (many years after it had taken place) how, during her first pregnancy, she had carried the baby to full term.  But then just a few days before she was due, she noticed that the baby had stopped moving and kicking inside of her.  And when she finally went into labor, sadly, her baby was stillborn.  In other words, there was no breath; no cries or whimpers; no life.  And the pain and the anguish she had felt at that moment had not dissipated very much in the three plus decades since.

That, of course, is both the mystery and the miracle of birth.  It’s not a birth, a live birth, until there’s breath.

I remember when Jeanette and I went through that healthy pregnancy course over at the hospital, the nurse who was leading it walked all of us expecting couples through the science of conception, and pregnancy, and birth, and so forth.  But a number of times during her presentations over those weeks she would say, in effect, “We know what happens here, at this stage in the baby’s development, but we don’t know exactly how it happens.”

And I remember thinking to myself, at the time, that with all of our sophisticated techniques, diagnostic equipment, and medical know-how, we still don’t fully understand, nor can we adequately explain, the miracle of birth and life.  Wonderfully (in my mind at least), there is still a degree of mystery.  To date, God has not fully divulged all the secrets of life to us, and, personally, I kind of like that…

But also, in over twenty years as a parish pastor, I have been there at the end of life as well; when the pulse and heart rate slow, and the breathing becomes weak and shallow, and then finally ceases.  One moment there is life… and breath, and in the very next moment, in a split second, that precious gift of life has suddenly slipped away.  And the only thing really missing was breath… the gentle rising and falling of the chest, the inhaling and exhaling of the lungs.  So if, in a real sense, life truly begins with that first breath, then it is also true that life ends with that final breath.  And then all those breaths in between, all the mysteries and miracles of what we call life, are a gift from God.

Well, believe it or not, it’s exactly the same in the church.  In today’s gospel, we heard that on Easter evening Jesus came and stood among his disciples.  At this point they were but a small and fearful group, huddled together behind locked doors.  But Jesus greeted them with the words, “Peace be with you.”  After he said this, he showed them the wounds in his hands and side so they would know that it was truly him.  Again, he said, “Peace be with you,” this time adding, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

It was the first hint of that important mission he was about to give them, and to all who would follow after them.

And then he did something interesting.  He breathed on them, says today’s Gospel, and as he did so he said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

Now what’s so interesting here, fascinating really, is that in the biblical languages – both Hebrew and Greek – the words for “breath” and “spirit” are actually one in the same, and are often even used interchangeably.  So, biblically speaking at least, it only stands to reason that they would receive the Holy Spirit in this manner; by actually receiving “breath” itself from the mouth of God’s Son.

In fact, the same words can also be translated as “wind” or breeze” as well. For instance, in the very first verses of the Bible, in the book of Genesis, where it says, “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep,” the next phrase, depending on the version you’re looking at, of course, is translated differently.  Most versions of the Bible say, “and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters.”  But the NRSV, the New Revised Standard Version (which is the one we primarily use in the Lutheran church) says, “while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”  Again, “Spirit” and “wind” and “breath” are all variations of the same root word and mean essentially the very same thing…

However, the disciples, as we know, weren’t necessarily the most clever or observant fellows on the block.  So, maybe, that’s why there had to be another, more dramatic, reception of the Holy Spirit; one that was sure to “get their attention.”

Therefore, in a different version of the story, the one recorded in the book of Acts, Jesus, just before his ascension, ordered the disciples to stay and wait in Jerusalem until “the promise of the Father” was fulfilled.  And then Jesus explained this by saying to them, “…you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  Which, then, sets the stage for our first reading this morning…

It’s ten days after Jesus promised them the gift and the power of the Holy Spirit.  The disciples are once again together, this time in the same house getting ready to observe the day of Pentecost, which occurred seven weeks after the Passover and in Jewish tradition celebrated the giving of the Law.

Suddenly, however, there came a sound like the rush of a mighty, or violent, wind and it filled the entire house, we are told.  And in that very same moment the disciples were also filled with the Holy Spirit.  That is, the Holy Wind blew into their midst and gave them life.

Because immediately the disciples went out and were able to witness to the good news of Jesus Christ and to God’s deeds of power in a way that they never had before – especially by having the ability to speak that day to everyone in the crowd in each person’s native tongue.  It was in that very same moment that the disciples began to fulfill the vision and the mission Jesus had given to them; to be his witnesses… and to go out into the world making disciples of all nations.

In fact, it was in that very same moment that, we look back now and say, the Christian Church was actually born. It was in that moment when those first followers received the Holy Spirit, as that violent wind blew through their house, that they, too, received the breath of life.

In other words, just as it is at the arrival of a newborn baby, it’s not a birth until there’s breath…

The Rev. Robert Two Bulls, is an Episcopal priest and also a Lakota Indian, who lives and works in Los Angeles, California.

At one point, he was given a 1901 edition of the New Testament in the Dakota language; translated from the original Greek.

He writes about spending many hours pouring over the text, taking key words and translating then into English as well as comparing them to the original Greek.  “When the title, ‘The Holy Spirit,’” he notes, “was translated into the Lakota language, the translator, with the help of knowledgeable elders, came up with the words Woniya Wakan. The English translation for Woniya is ‘breath.’  When broken down further, niya means ‘to breathe,’ and wo, a prefix, signifies that the action is accomplished by blowing.  Woniya, then, is life, or that first breath we take when we come out of our mother’s womb.  Wakan means sacred, holy, or something incomprehensible having or giving, which means having an endowed spiritual power.  My mind can get around and understand the meaning of the Holy Spirit,” he writes, “perhaps just like my ancestors, who converted to Christianity, did.  The Word was spoken and the sacred breath of God came upon them and they had new life.”

That’s what took place on the Day of Pentecost.  The Holy Spirit, the breath of life, literally blew into the lives of a ragtag group of frightened disciples like a mighty wind, and gave them the power and the boldness to become witnesses of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth.  With the gift of the Holy Spirit, they were indeed “born again,” born a second time – this time outside their mother’s womb.  With the gift of the Holy Spirit they had new life, and they now lived and breathed on their own.

Their time with Jesus was sort of like being in the womb, you might say.  They were attached to him as closely as a human fetus is attached to its mother by the umbilical cord.  In other words, up until this point they couldn’t really live or do anything by themselves, or on their own.  And the Gospels are certainly full of examples proving that this was the case.

But then Jesus left them, their resurrected Lord had rejoined the Father, and that cord had been cut.  However, he had not abandoned them for now, on Pentecost, they had received the Holy Spirit, they had received the breath of life, and, what’s more… they could actually begin to breathe on their own. And, as we heard, with the very first breaths out of their mouths they began to testify to God’s deeds of power, especially those in and through Jesus Christ.

Before this, before the Holy Spirit, they could only remain huddled together in an upstairs room (which interestingly enough rhymes with womb, for that is exactly, again, what it was for them).  They had neither the power, nor the boldness, nor the inclination to go out into the world to do anything, let alone proclaim the gospel as Jesus had assured them they would.  At this point, just like a baby still in the womb, they were all about “potential,” but not yet a “reality.”  Again… it’s not a birth until there’s breath.

But then, on Pentecost of course, that potential turned into reality. Everything necessary for their life as the church was in place, and had taken place.  For two whole years, remember, they had walked with Jesus and had absorbed his teachings; learning at the feet of the master, as they say.  It was the “gestational” period, if you will, for the church.  But only when the Holy Spirit, the Holy Wind, the Holy Breath had come upon them was there a birth; the birth of the church.

And the church, even today, cannot exist apart from the Holy Spirit, the breath of life.  For when the church loses the Holy Spirit, when the church – any church – ignores, or turns away from  the power of the Spirit working in their midst, calling them to be witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ, and sending them out into the world to make disciples, then that church ceases to be the church.  It is, in fact, spiritually dead.  There is no more life, no more breath.

In spite of all of our sophisticated theologies and practical know-how, the fact remains that the life of the church is also a mystery and a miracle.  And apart from God, apart from the Holy Spirit, there can be no church.

Now some would say that many of the churches in our day are already spiritually dead.  Or at least close to it.  The mainline denominations, including the Lutheran Church, are certainly declining in numbers, and apparently in passion and energy as well.  Their pulse and heart rate are dangerously low.  Their breathing seem shallow and labored.

So some of these same people would also say that what we need today is a “Second Reformation” to recover our past and our purpose in order to turn things around.  But after studying today’s lessons, however, I’m not so sure.  I’m not so sure that a Second Reformation is enough.  What we really need, perhaps, is a second Pentecost. Because without the Holy Spirit, the breath of life, there is no church.  Nor can there ever be one …

Amen