By Sister Patty Beairsto
In my sacramental history, Confirmation stands out in my memory. I was not swept up in the power of the Spirit, nor did a tongue of fire descend over my head. What I remember most is those who were around me that day. My twin sister, my older brother and a favorite cousin all were confirmed at that same ritual. I have vivid recollections of the party my grandmother hosted afterwards. It was a lively gathering, other siblings, parents, aunts and uncles, plus more cousins stuffed in her small house.
Now so many years later, I have come to realize that my Irish family was my first faith community. Just like the group huddled in the upper room, my family knew the importance of huddling. Oh, we did it imperfectly, but we did it. We did it not in wildly effusive ways, but in times of change, loss and fear, as well as in times of celebration; we came and still come together.
In our fractured world, also full of profound change, loss and fear, what would it mean for us to come together? Are there lessons from our own family systems, faith communities, ministerial experiences and the Mercy community itself that could be shared? Are we desirous of receiving the gift of interpretation so that we can sort out the conflicting, cacophonous voices that swirl around us? And having received the gifts of the Spirit, are we willing to discern where the living God might be calling us to use those gifts in service of humanity?
As I write this, some are honoring warfare as the “call” of God, while others, like Pope Leo, are asking “all people of good will to search for peace and reject violence.” At the same time, we hear voices from deep in space aboard Artemis II. Astronaut Christina Koch says, “we will explore…we will inspire, but we will always choose earth, we will always choose each other.” Who among us is not moved by those pictures of our home planet and the moon sent from that mission. One Instagram post from the crew simply said “Amaze, Amaze, Amaze.” I hear the Spirit calling: reject violence, choose peace, choose earth, choose one another, and pray for the gift of amazement.
The author Kathleen Norris has a chapter in her book Amazing Grace entitled “Pentecostal.” In it, she recounts a visit to a Pentecostal church in her hometown, and a gathering that followed in the church basement. As she looked around, she said she began to wonder about her own Presbyterian church. She writes: “I had a vision of us all coming together, bearing our different wounds, offering differing gifts. The preachers, prophets, healers, discerners of spirits…each of us speaking in the language we know, and being understood, Pentecost, indeed.”
This great feast is sometimes referred to as the birthday of the Church. Perhaps this Pentecost is an invitation to a rebirth of sorts. Maybe our insides need a fresh breath or perhaps a howling wind. Is not our aching world in need of a free offering of personal gifts and the witness of the power of community? Maybe then in the strength of fresh breath and deepened connection, we can joyfully join anew in the mission of those once huddled in the upper room.