Pentecost 2011

This Pentecost-gift is what Ezekiel the Prophet spoke of 500 years earlier. That he was taken from his camp to a desert valley, littered with skeletons after a catastrophic battle, bones scattered all around him, crunching beneath his feet. In the moonlight, everywhere he looked, pale bones ghosted back the moon’s embrace- long bones of arm and leg, the tiny gravel of finger and toe, complex hoops of rib, pelvis butterflies, silenced jaws, emptied skulls, piled up and thrown around like a toddlers’ bedroom after too long unsupervised. The Valley of Dry Bones, devoid of life and hope and expectation.

But then God says to Ezekiel: Mortal being, can these dry bones live again? And Ezekiel says: Creator God, only you can know that. And before his eyes a dizzying dance begins as fingers are reconfigured by sinews which grow like jungle creepers, and as they become hands and spring onto wrists and elbows and what was once scattered and dashed is united and one once more, recognisable, re-created, body.

And muscle and skin reform, and what was skeleton is covered, and what was decomposed is recomposed, and what was lost, the human form, is found again.

And then God breathes out a breath of life and wind rushes into the valley from every corner of the earth and what was dead is alive again, and what lay lifeless, breathless, bloodless among the sand and the boulders stands up. Lungs refill, heart repumps, blood reflows, oxygen repowers, muscles restore, thoughts restart, life begins again. All around Ezekiel a vast and potent army of people stand on their feet and look to God, who has sent his Spirit to give them life again.

Without the Resurrection of Jesus and the promised coming of the Spirit the disciples, waiting in locked rooms for arrest and execution on Easter Eve, silent and terrified, unable to move in the daytime for fear of making a noise or scraping a chair, unable to open the shutters over the window in case someone saw the movement and told the guards, unable to go outside for fear, reliant for food and news on brave women who returned from the market with baskets laden looking anxiously over their shoulders to see if any were following, would still be waiting there now.

Over these last days since Easter Day the disciples have experienced the valley of dry bones for themselves- from shipwrecked mariners, leaderless followers, terrified men jumping at the sound of a foot on the stair they have come to believe again, to see that everything they had thought is true and better. But still they are in the upper room, waiting for the breath to come, and that is today, and that breath sends them bursting out of the door into the early morning sunshine, desperate and able to talk to everyone they meet of the Resurrection of Jesus. Filled with the Holy Spirit, with the breath of life, they are not dry bones any longer. Filled with the Holy Spirit, with the breath of life, they are not made for living behind walls and doors any more, but for living in the light, and the open air, and in public.

And we are here today because of them, and we are not different- filled with the Holy Spirit, with the breath of life, we are not made for living behind church doors but for living re-kindled lives in the light.

Another thought, because the Gifted Spirit does not stop with giving us life and driving us joyfully into the world to live for God. He also joyfully and continually guides our course and dictates our rhythm and encourages us to live as one church using the individual gifts each and every one of us has been given, gifts of wisdom and knowledge, of faith and healing and prophecy and speech and love.

Picture an elegant (19^th tea clipper, like the Cutty Sark, with their rolling names- Stag Hound, Thermopalyae, Sea Witch, Ariel, Lighning. Thin like a feather, elegant, poised in the docks like a greyhound in the slips, ready to pin back its ears and race across the ocean. The pinnacle of engineering, balanced and dedicated, every detail designed for pace and stamina- layered sails at the bow, three tall masts, acre upon acre of sail. Years in the building, decades of experience among the crew, centuries of hard-won experience in their training and in navigational technology and in the maps they rely upon. Ready to race across the ocean, to do everything it was conceived and made for.

Or picture any sailing ship you want to. The pinnacle of that generation’s human endeavour, of science and craft and technology. But everything waits for the wind. No movement, no direction, no life, no freedom, no joy, no fulfilment until the wind comes and settles and fills the sails.

And then think about dancing, whatever style of dancing you prefer. Another picture in your mind. You could be in a hotel after the happy couple have done their first dance, with friends and family and smiling faces everywhere. You could be at Hyde Town Hall some time ago, the only place to be of a night, the hope of meeting the one all around you. You could be in a nightclub in Manchester, low ceilings, dark room, pulses of vibrant light illuminating the faces of those around you.

But whatever your picture, whatever happy memory you have, the dance will not work without sound, without music, without the band, without the DJ, without ABBA or Strauss or Take That or Example filling your ears and somehow guiding your feet and your arms and your hips. Without the beat, without the drum, without the rhythm, without the tune, without the mood, without the music dancing is simply some people moving in a room on their own. It is the music which brings people together, which builds a community, which makes us move as one, together, united.

The Holy Spirit, given to the Church at Pentecost, given then and given now, which gives life to lifeless bodies. The Holy Spirit is the wind in our sails. The Holy Spirit is the music in our ears and arms and feet.

And the Holy Spirit is joyful and exciting and fun. Breath and life and the smiles on faces from muscles which once were withered. Droplets of water dolphining in the sunshine, fired by the thrusting of the clipper bow through the sea, rainbow dappled by the sun. A room full of people of all ages, from all backgrounds, united by the music and when they heard it before and what it evokes in them and what it will mean from today because of now, here, together. If you’re getting the picture that the Holy Spirit enjoys his job, enjoys knitting us together, enjoys giving us gifts and then helping us, encouraging us, inspiring us to use them then you would not be far wrong. That is what Pentecost is all about.

And so to my fourth and final image. Add to the Valley of Dry Bones and the beauty of a ship under full sail and a room united by music this picture. A bottle of champagne. It is evocative, laden with meaning. We open champagne at a party, at a baptism or a wedding, or when a race is won, or a trophy secured, after exams are survived or a deal is secured, or just because friends are round and we want to say something special, to remember. We keep the corks and we don’t even have to drink it to get the meaning- it’s enough to hear the pop of the cork and see the liquid arcing through the air to know, to smile.

So here is my final image. In the church, and in our lives, the Holy Spirit is the gas, the bubbles, the power in the bottle of champagne. Without him we stay in church and change nothing. But with him, in his power, in his joy and excitement and his sense that all things are possible for God’s people, we are given new life and a new heart, and we are given course and speed, and we are given rhythm and togetherness, and we are given joy. And with him we are sent and called and enabled to do the same for the world- not simply to learn to use the gifts we have been given but to help others do the same, not simply how to find the joy in life but to help others do the same, not simply to be the people of God but to help others do the same.

Without the Holy Spirit we are lifeless bodies, becalmed and motionless ships, shuffling dancers with no direction, flat champagne. But with the Holy Spirit, well, with the Holy Spirit, all things are possible, even bursting from behind locked doors on a Sunday morning to change the world.