Reflection
The excitement of Peter addressing the crowd of Jews in Jerusalem after Pentecost was contagious. Following the strong speech in today’s first reading, many were swept up in his enthusiasm and joined the apostles in following Christ.
Most of us have had similar exciting moments when we are transformed by a spiritual experience. It may not always be after a dynamic homily like Peter’s. More likely it was a very personal moment: the birth of a child, a song that touched deep feelings, a moment of grace when a poor women smiles at you in gratitude for alms, the gentle hand in your moment of fear or grief, reading prophetic words of Pope Leo, Pope Francis, St. Oscar Romero, Sister Thea Bowman, or Dorothy Day.
In each of these times, something inside let you know the Divine was present.
But each of us has also experienced stretches of God’s absence. Perhaps a dry period in daily prayer that never seemed to end, or a feeling of being absolutely alone and overwhelmed with fear. The great 16th-century Spanish mystic and Carmelite friar St John of the Cross called such a moment “the dark night of the soul.”
These times of void, however, can often be more transformative than a hundred Easter liturgies with trumpet sounds.
These are the times when we have nowhere else to turn except down, on our knees, to cry out to God for help.
Darkness can be an occasion for God to break through our shell of self-assurance and independence. Today’s psalm is reassuring:
“I bless the Lord who counsels me; even in the night my heart exhorts me. I set the Lord ever before me; with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.”
The Holy Spirit will infuse us with what we need, but most often only when we need it, not before.
In our busy, distracting world, it is so easy to strive to have it all and become all we can be. We are assaulted by news, advertisements, entertainments, sports, and the expectation that we don’t want to miss out on opportunities or chances to be in the know. It is a whirlwind of stimulations and distractions that can leave one feeling inadequate and empty.
The writer of Acts describes Pentecost with the dramatic sounds of wind and various languages and fire. The author wanted to grab our attention, to focus on the drama of the moment. Indeed it is a history-altering event when the almighty God, who created the vast universe as well as each individual cell of our artistically constructed bodies, infuses us with all the gifts we need to live rich, authentic lives of creativity and love.
But most often we don’t experience God with drama or the powerful words of Peter. Instead, if we pay attention, we will find God in a nurse’s gentle tending of a wound, in the sparkle of a baby’s eyes, in young lovers giggling on a park bench, in our parent’s tolerance of our mistakes, in a co-worker listening to our disappointments, in the encouraging words of the pope who points to simple ways of living without violence and hate.
These small, everyday experiences can lift us from our dark place. We can be drawn into love and find serene joy. These moments are our mini-Pentecosts of everyday life.
Perhaps today you can find a quiet spot to be in the presence of God to experience the Spirit alive in you and all around you.
