Pentecost

Wind is one of those brilliant metaphors for God that affords one hours of playful theological speculation.

I have always loved Table Mountain. As a teenager I particularly enjoyed climbing up to the Table face overlooking the city bowl when a strong, hot North-Easter was blowing. This is the wind that presages a cold front. If it approaches the face of the mountain at the right angle the city bowl funnels it directly up the face. The wind is therefore concentrated into a vertical blast. Standing a few metres away from the cliff edge there is no wind. As you approach the edge you can feel the wind being sucked off the top of the mountain by the vertical blast. You can lean out into the wind and be held up by it leaning our over the cliff. We would try to find a rock with the right shape and weight so that when it was lobbed over the cliff it would hover.

God’s power has always been clearly demonstrated in the awesome power of wind: that something so insubstantial as air can hold a rock.

I also think of God as having a sense of humour…

In the Cedarberg there is a starkly beautiful peak called Sneuberg which is cold year round, if not always iced over. At the base of the peak is a small, basic hut and nearby is a long drop (latrine). The door of the latrine faces away from the peak but there has for many years been a large gap in the panelling at the back. In the evenings a bitterly cold wind blows off the peak and down into the valley below so that when (generally after a little nightcap) you take your bedtime constitutional, carefully cocooned in winter down, all sleepiness is blown to smithereens and one soberly contemplates being alive, very alive. The constitutional may or may not happen…

Then there are those hot sticky February days in Cape Town when the tar becomes syrup and the cement is hot enough to cook on. One longs for the healing balm of the South Easter. When it comes, it starts as a slight lilt in the air, just enough to make one’s sweat begin to cool. When it gets up a good speed it blows all the pollution away, clearing the city and air.

Sometimes the street children exploit the strange way eddies form in the city around the tall buildings. When the strong Cape Doctor swirls across the cobbles of Green Market Square it provides enough propulsion to send the lighter kids skittering across the cobbles in card board boxes.

The story of Acts 2:1-29 often gets people talking about how weird it must have been to have tongues of fire dancing around the room and people speaking in languages they had never heard. This misses the point. Luke speaks metaphorically to communicate something more important than whether or not flames actually lit up people’s hairdos.

Pilgrims from all over the world - as it was then - came to Jerusalem expecting to meet God. No doubt some, if not many, were disillusioned by not finding God in the Temple. Certainly they were all surprised when they discovered God in ordinary people, especially this bunch of misfits: women speaking in public, peasants speaking like seers and these were the ones whose master was exterminated like a common criminal – yet here they are speaking to us as friends without fear.

Pentecost speaks to the desire for human unity just as the story of Babel does in the Hebrew Scriptures. The people of Babel had a common language and common purpose, yet they were ultimately scattered across the earth in confusion. Unity is not formed when people seek a common language or a common purpose. These are not ends in themselves but merely convenient instruments.

The people of Pentecost discovered something far more valuable. They shared their lives together, holding everything in common. They cared for one another making sure no one in their community struggled while others were privileged. We’re told, “awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved” (Acts 2:43-47).

Genuine unity is based on love, the kind of love the Pentecostal people discovered.