The unruly spirit - Acts 2:1-21 - Living by the Word - Column

Christian Century, May 12, 1993 by Beverly R. Gaventa

NOTHING LUKE tells us concerning the behavior of Jesus' followers after his Ascension prepares us for the astonishing character of Pentecost itself When the apostles rejoin other believers in Jerusalem, they establish an orderly and apparently secluded community life centered on prayer. Peter efficiently takes the necessary steps to replace Judas, thereby mending the circle and establishing the correctness of his own leadership. Things seem to be proceeding in a methodical fashion, right up through the opening verse of Acts 2.

Suddenly pandemonium breaks forth! Sound overwhelms the room. Tongues of fire reach out to seize people. If the speech that comes forth from believers is intelligible, it is simultaneously incredible. The walls cannot contain either the people or the Spirit that moves them. With an instantaneous shift of venue, the believers are thrust into public view, and the first chapters image of order is shattered forever.

So unruly is the Spirits entrance that we feel the need to tame it. Whenever I teach the Book of Acts, whether I am working with laypeople, seminarians or clergy, I find the responses to this story predictable and thoroughly unsatisfactory (and I include myself among the respendents). We want either to individualize or to institutionalize the coming of the Holy Spirit. By "individualize" I mean that we want to make the Holy Spirits coming a private act, a gift bestowed on certain individuals as a result of their own merit. The Spirit grants them astonishing gifts such as the ability to speak in tongues or see visions, or to speak prophetically to the church and the world. In the most extreme form, those who individualize the Spirit see that gift-turned-achievement as normative for all believers. They seem happy to talk about the day of Pentecost almost indefinitely.

Those who "institutionalize" the Holy Spirit often find this story disturbing and would prefer to skip it altogether. Rejecting that option, they emphasize the unique character of Pentecost and institutionalize it as the churchs birthday. Since the Spirit moves through the church, the churchs own procedures quickly become the chief locus for the Spirits activity, and the Spirit is viewed as a part of the institution itself.

Both approaches seek to move Pentecost off the streets of Jerusalem and back indoors where things are safe and secure. Out in the open, people will ask questions, jeer and demand an explanation. Peter will give the first of several speeches necessitated by the Spirits unruly conduct. Surely everyone will be happier if we can only pack the Spirit s roar and fire and outrageous speech neatly in a box, bringing them out at our convenience and for our own purposes.

The story of Luke-Acts demonstrates the absurdity of such a plan, for the Holy Spirit proves an unruly character. The Spirit brings about the pregnancy of a frightened girl. Marys praise is proclaimed not through the worthy priest Zechariah, but through his pregnant wife, Elizabeth. When Mary and Joseph take the infant Jesus to the Temple, it is the aged Simeon rather than the local authorities whom the Spirit enables to recognize Jesus as Israels glory and the worlds light.

All these events take place long before the Spirits arrival at Pentecost. Perhaps the churchs inauguration will encourage the Spirit to work within the sanctions of ecclesiastical predictability. But no. Peter begins the process of catechizing Cornelius's household, only to find that the Spirit has already made a decision and will include these gentiles whether the church likes it or not. Enjoying some success in Phrygia and Galatia, Paul unfolds the maps for Bithynia (apparently having decided for himself what course the mission should take), but the Spirit promptly stops him.

Luke portrays the work of the Spirit in ways that frustrate our hankering for "systematic theology." If the Johannine Jesus tells the curious and confused Nicodemus that the Spirit blows where it chooses, it is Luke who unfolds that truth as he tells story after startling story of the Spirits career.

The coming of the Spirit signals nothing less than the beginning of the eschaton, its invasion of the world and its bid for the worlds people. That eschatological outpouring manifests itself in individuals who are empowered to speak the gospel so that it may be heard. Those individuals do not become the Spirit's handlers, however, for the prophets words recall that it is "my Spirit," the Spirit of God, that brings about their speech.

By the same token, the eschatological outpouring brings about a church, as we see when those who hear Peters sermon come together in worship, fellowship and service. That fledgling institution does not become the proprietor, however. Even when the Spirit later consents to come upon people through the hands of Peter and others, it remains the Spirit of God rather than the Spirit of the church.

While the gifts of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost are dramatic, they are but a sign of the eschaton. In I Believe in the Resurrection of the Body, Rubem Alves identifies the Spirit as "the aperifil of the future." A taste. A promise of things to come. Perhaps I have been involved in too many conversations concerning this text, but I sense that many of us have misunderstood the "aperitif of the future." We want the Spirit to be like airplane coffee, weak but reliable, and administered in small quantities. Or we want the Spirit to be a can of diet soda, bubbly and ubiquitous, and capable of easy ownership. The heady aperitif tantalizes us, assuring us that the banquet to come will be magnificent.