"She Is the Holy Spirit To You"
On Thursday, Rebekah and I celebrated our twenty-first
wedding anniversary. As I think back over the past twenty-one years, I can’t
help but give thanks for all the blessings that God has given us, not least our
four wonderful children. But I am also struck by how much I have grown as a
person as a direct result of being married to Rebekah.
I have a friend who is a priest, his name is Fr. Jim Clark.
And Fr. Jim once told me how he does marriage counseling. He sits the couple
down, and offers two pieces of advice. First, he looks at the woman and says,
“You have a project on your hands.” And then he turns to the man and says, “She
is the Holy Spirit [to you.]” Now when I first heard this, my egalitarian
sensibilities were slightly offended. After all, this didn’t seem to be
particularly balanced or mutual. But for the most part, I think this is how our
marriage has played out. Let me offer just one example.
When we were first married, Rebekah would come home from
school or work and begin telling me about her day. If it hadn’t been a
particularly good day, and she was feeling bad, I would listen, and then I
would do one of two things. I would either explain why she didn’t need to feel
so bad, or I would offer suggestions on how to fix the situation. I thought I
was being helpful, but my advice and explanations rarely made her feel better, and
in actuality they generally had the opposite effect. Rebekah would complain, “I
want you to listen.” And I would say, “I am listening.” But I wasn’t listening,
not really. I hadn’t learned to listen or empathize. Instead life had taught me
to solve problems and fix things, to such a degree that I really didn’t know
the difference between listening and giving advice, the difference between
empathizing and fixing.
So early on in our marriage, Rebekah gave me John Gray’s
book, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. I read it. Reluctantly and
suspiciously, I read it. And my eyes began to open, ever so slowly. For
example, Gray writes:
When a woman is talking about the problems of her day, rather than assuming she is looking for solutions and giving solutions, a man can instead recognize that she is just needing to talk about her day and as a result she will feel better. With this insight, he is free to relax and listen without trying to interrupt with solutions (xxii).
Today, this all sounds like common sense to me, but twenty
years ago it was a complete revelation. I found it incredible. How could the simple
act of listening help Rebekah feel better? But it did, and it does.
“Mrs. Anderson, I don’t want you to do anything; I just want you to listen.”
A principle at an elementary school tells the following story. “One day I return from lunch to find one of my students sitting dejectedly in my office waiting to see me. I sit down next to Milly, and she says to me, ‘Mrs. Anderson, have you ever had a week when everything you did hurt somebody else, and you never intended to hurt anyone at all?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I understand.’ Milly then proceeds to describe her week in detail. But by now I was quite late for a very important meeting, and I was anxious not to keep a room full of people waiting. So I asked, ‘Milly, what can I do for you?’ Milly reached over, took both my shoulders in her hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and said very firmly, ‘Mrs. Anderson, I don’t want you to do anything; I just want you to listen.’[1]
“I don’t want you to do anything; I just want you to
listen.” The need for empathy—the need to be heard and understood—is one of our
greatest human needs. And it isn’t just women who need empathy, but men need it
just as much, as do kids. In this respect, men and women aren’t from two
different planets, one being Mars and the other being Venus. We are all of the
Earth, and our common need for empathy, for understanding, is part of the dust
that we have all been fashioned from.
And so, learning to listen empathetically can be extremely
powerful. Because when we listen attentively to another human being, when we
make ourselves fully present, we create an opportunity for that person to
express themselves; we create the space for them to be heard and understood.
And that is what we most need “in this transitory life,” when we are “in
trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity” (bcp 329).
Quoting again from Rabbi Kushner, whom I quoted in last
week’s sermon: “Human beings are God’s language.” That is,
When we cry out to God in our anguish, God responds by sending us people. Doctors and nurses work tirelessly to make us whole. Friends come and sit with us, hold our hands without speaking, without trying to explain away our suffering or diminish it by telling us of other people who have it worse. And though we did not know it, that is exactly what we need, the reassurance that we are not alone and that we are people worth caring about.
God often answers prayer by sending people, and sometimes we
are the people God sends as the answer to someone else’s prayer. And when this
happens, God is not asking us to take responsibility for their situation; God
is not asking us to offer explanations or solutions. More often than not, God
is calling us to be attentive, to listen and to be present with people in their
distress.
As Christians, God has given us the gift of the indwelling
Holy Spirit so that when we are present with people in their distress, they
might experience the comforting, consoling presence of God in and through us.
That is one of the deeper meanings of Pentecost.
The Deeper Meaning of Pentecost
Today, we generally think of Pentecost as a Christian
Holy-day, but in the first century, Pentecost was a Jewish festival. Also known
as the Feast of Weeks, it occurred seven weeks after Passover, or fifty days,
which is where it gets the name, Pentecost, meaning fiftieth. Originally it was
an agricultural festival that marked the end of the barley harvest, but by the
time of Jesus, Pentecost was also associated with the giving of the Law on Mt.
Sinai and the covenant between God and his people Israel.
In the first century, Pentecost was one of three pilgrimage
festivals. This meant that devout Jews would travel to Jerusalem from all
around the Roman Empire and beyond to celebrate it. Just prior to his ascending
into heaven, Jesus told his disciples to wait in Jerusalem until they were clothed
with power from on high, to wait until they were anointed by the Holy Spirit.
So they waited in Jerusalem for ten days, and finally, on the day of the great
festival of Pentecost, the Spirit descended as tongues of fire and rested on all
the disciples of Jesus; not just on the twelve apostles, mind you, but on each
and every one of Jesus’ followers.
According to Peter, God’s indiscriminate giving out of the
Holy Spirit was a fulfillment of a word that had been spoken long ago through the
prophet Joel.
In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
and they shall prophesy.
It’s remarkable; absolutely remarkable! And not just the speaking
in tongues; that’s amazing. But what is truly amazing and unprecedented is the fact
that the Spirit of God is now being poured out on all flesh. You see, in the
Old Testament, the Spirit was only ever given to a few, select individuals, generally
prophets, priests, and kings, people like Moses, King David, and Isaiah. They
were anointed with the indwelling Holy Spirit so that they might be equipped to
carry out the tasks that God had given them to do. But now because of Jesus, the
Holy Spirit is given to all of God’s people, regardless of age, gender, or social
status—on sons and daughters, on young men and old men, on male and female
slaves. And so, the deeper meaning of Pentecost lies in the fact that all of
God’s people are called into service and all of God’s people are empowered and
equipped by the Spirit to participate in what God is doing in the world. That
is what it means to be baptized by the Holy Spirit. And this is what we are
celebrating today with the baptisms of Breslyn and Isley.
The Holy Spirit and the Harvest
In Christian baptism, God gives us his very own Spirit, not
because we are deserving or special, but because we are needed. Once Jesus was
traveling about Galilee. He was “teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the
good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness.” Crowds
and crowds of people were coming to him, and “when he saw the crowds, he had
compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep
without a shepherd.” Turning to his
disciples, he said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are
few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his
harvest” (Matt 9:35–38).
The harvest is indeed plentiful. This broken and hurting world
is filled with broken and hurting people, people who are ripe with “trouble,
sorrow, need, sickness, addiction, fear, depression, and all manner of
adversity.” And what they need more than anything is the assurance of God’s
love and forgiveness. In baptism, we are all given the gift of the indwelling Holy
Spirit. The Spirit becomes our constant companion. The Spirit helps us in our
weakness, the Spirit teaches us to pray, the Spirit comforts us in our times of
distress, often by reminding us that we are treasured by God, that we are God’s
beloved daughters and sons.
But this gift of God’s presence is not for us alone; it is for
the whole world. And so the Holy Spirit compels us to seek out people in
distress, to give them our undivided attention, to listen and to be present. I
know that we often feel inadequate and ill-equipped for this task, but let me
say again what I said last week: Don’t underestimate the power of your presence
because it is through your presence that God makes his presence known. We are ambassadors
of God’s presence in this broken world. And as agents of God’s comfort, it is
not we who are providing the comfort, but God is providing his comfort through
us.
So this week, let us go and be present with someone in their
distress. And let us also, invite someone to be present with us in our distress.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Spirit.
[1]
Adapted from Marshall Rosenberg, Nonviolent
Communication (2nd ed., pp. 113–114).
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