Holy Commonality, Sacred Diversity - Pentecost (Acts 2:1-21)

In 2014, I participated in a seminary exchange program in the Dominican Republic. Unlike my experience at Virginia Theological Seminary, my time at el Centro de Estudios Teológicos in the capital city of Santo Domingo was filled with mango juice, bachata dancing, and classes taught exclusively in Spanish. However, just like VTS, seminary in the DR included Bible study, worship, and field education.

My field education assignment was in a small town called Baní, in the southwest region of the country. My supervisor was a powerhouse divorcee and single mom named the Rev. Milquella Mendoza. She is a charismatic worship leader who preaches without notes and tolerates zero disrespect. And, she served not one but three churches: one large parish in the downtown area, and two smaller congregations that met outside and served just a few of the many impoverished neighborhoods on the outskirts of town.

On my first weekend in Baní, Rev. Mendoza and I headed out just after dinner on Saturday evening to celebrate Holy Eucharist in one of the small, outdoor congregations. To my surprise, before we headed out of town, we pulled into a neighborhood I was unfamiliar with, and stopped in front of a house that I’d never seen before. 

Much to my dismay, three women in small but bright fascinator hats and matching white, patent leather sandals clamored out of the house and into the car. Now, my Spanish was certainly improving, and at this point, I could hold my own in a one on one conversation, so long as the other person had plenty of time on their hands and wanted to talk about church. In a car full of women talking at full volume all at the same time, I was hopelessly overwhelmed. 

I had no idea what to say to my new acquaintances, but that didn’t matter, because I couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise. These ladies chattered nonstop until we arrived at a pavilion in the middle of a tiny village of clay huts, where they promptly unlocked a small shed and started fiddling with what appeared to be strips of cloth. Suddenly, the light bulb went off in my brain like a tongue of fire and I immediately understood almost everything the women were saying. The language of an altar guild is universal. 

My glimpse of the Holy Spirit in the Dominican Republic was both life-giving and formative, but I can hardly imagine the fiery ordeal on the morning of the first Pentecost. Jerusalem was filled with folks from all over who spoke any number of languages. They may have felt isolated, out of place, even disenfranchised. Then suddenly, they found themselves deeply connected to the strangers all around them, perhaps they even felt a sense of belonging in the midst of the tumult. This is surely a powerful first act of the Holy Spirit. 

We sometimes hear that the first Pentecost is the theological undoing of the Tower of Babel from the book of Genesis. If you recall the story, the people tried to build a tower tall enough to reach heaven so that they too could have the wisdom and power of God. Their linguistic and cultural unity allowed them to work together on this project, which disappointed God. They misused the gift of commonality that God had given them. So in its place, God gave them diversity, and their heavenly tower project was quickly put on ice.

But, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it 40 times, diversity is never a punishment. We know from our own lives and from the witness of the Church and Holy Scripture that it is not God’s grand design for the world to be filled with people who all look the same, all think the same, all speak the same, or even all worship in the same way. 

And the gift of diversity that was revealed at Babel was not taken away at the first Pentecost. The people did not begin speaking the same language, they began to understand one another’s languages. They were able to connect with their neighbors in a deeply spiritual way in the midst of diversity, not in spite of it. 

Instead of becoming a homogenous blob, the people became a fuller expression of God’s great and multifaceted nature. Instead of diversity being undone, it became beautiful and holy, no longer a hindrance. The Holy Spirit came into the world not to mold humanity into one model, but to bless and sanctify all of humankind, in all its wonderful variety, and to help us connect with one another and celebrate the great and multifaceted nature of humanity.

I heard a theologian this week say that at the first Pentecost, God took down the guard rails on the bowling lane of human life. With the Holy Spirit as our advocate, we are being sent out to do the work God has given us to do, equipped with all the gifts the Spirit provides. I could have used a few extra gifts during my time in the Dominican Republic. The gift of speaking in tongues perhaps, or maybe just a personal translator. 

But the truth is, the language barrier between myself and the Dominican altar guild was beautiful and holy. There is so much we may never have learned about each other if we had been able to use a common language to simply achieve our goals and move on. And we may not have learned that we didn’t need a common language at all to worship together faithfully. 

Pentecost is one of the most joyful feasts of the church year. We celebrate both our holy commonality as God’s children and the sacred, dynamic diversity we’ve been given in order to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. These are both present in spades here at Christ Church, as well as an energetic and passionate altar guild! Perhaps today we borrow a little of their vitality as we revel in the coming of the Holy Spirit. Amen.