HOLY SMOKE
Cooke’s-Portsmouth Church
May 24, 2015
Acts 2:1-21
The book by Crystal McVea titled, Waking Up In Heaven, chronicles the author’s account of her
time in heaven after she stopped breathing and was in code blue in a hospital room. For nine
minutes she was unconscious and unable to breathe on her own; but she had this heavenly
experience, before coming back to her body and living to tell the story. As with most things of
mystery there are many sceptics who doubt her experience.
Some will receive her story as proof of God’s existence and the existence of heaven. Others will
be skeptical in an age of reason and denial of faith. For some, her experience will be rendered
down to drug induced dream, or the confusion wrought by dire ill health. Some will roll their
eyes in judgement of the perceived naivete associated with all talk of faith, grace, mystery and
heaven. In one paragraph she sets up a dialectic that attests to the dichotomy. Rolled eyes caused
her to stop telling the story for a while.
She writes, The reaction I got to my story- and that one eye roll in particular- made me step back
and think harder about what had happened. I certainly didn’t think I was crazy; but the fact that
some people did caused a little doubt to creep into my mind. Was I remembering things
correctly? Was it possible my brain had played a trick on me? There are all kinds of theories
about why people report having visions- or what doctors call episodic experiences- when they
hover close to death. When a person stops breathing, they can have tunnel vision, which could
explain the tunnel so many people see. When your heart stops beating, you can see bright lights,
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which some people say is a medical phenomenon, not a spiritual one. And when your brain loses
oxygen, it can start firing neurons that haven’t been fired in years or even decades, which can
trigger memories of long ago people and experiences. Hard core skeptics can find a way to
dismiss any story about heaven as nothing more than a medical hiccup. (McVea-2013-p187189)
One person’s story of faith is another’s to challenge as medical side effect; and rolling eyes can
often cause one who has had the experience to question the value in sharing it. The reasonable
mind can readily explain and dismiss all talk of mystery as euphoria, creative imagination or
hallucination. One person’s experience of Holy mystery is dismissed as a by- product. For the
chosen disciples the experience of empowerment by the Holy Spirit is another’s to judge as
alcoholic stupor. One’s heavenly sign is another’s reaction to morphine; earthly signs are
explained and dismissed as coincidence, or undiscovered scientific law. One person’s experience
of mystery is another’s opiate of the people.
Kirstin Emery Saldine, Assistant Professor of Homiletics at Austin Presbyterian Theological
Seminary has written, This miraculous gifting of the Spirit to the church in Acts can be a
dispiriting passage to preach about year after year. After all, the contemporary church does not
much resemble the early church. Even the most faithful Christian will occasionally express a
nagging feeling that the church is a sorry shell of its awe inspiring birth, that somehow the
church has lost its thunder, that it no longer acts with conviction, that schisms and infighting
have stripped it of its unity and vitality. We speak of the church at the end of Christendom and of
its decline in the face of an ever increasing secularization of culture. Even the most encouraging
signs of spiritual growth, church renewal, and evangelism seem tepid compared to Pentecost’s
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infectious energy. How can brightly coloured streamers on the communion table and red stole
and pulpit drapery compete with tongues of fire? ( Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol 3).
She makes a valid point. How can coloured streamers and churchly accoutrement compete with
tongues of fire and the holy smoke of heavenly portent? The good news is that we are not
expected to recreate that fervor; nor are we to compare our contemporary celebration of
Pentecost to that day in Antiquity. We are not to replicate that day of holy mystery. Pentecost
reminds us that the church is integrally linked to God through Christ. The outpouring of the
Spirit is God’s presence in the world that continues to inspire, excite, ignite and enable, even if it
is in far more subtle ways.
I came to church very early one morning this week. I was behind because of the holiday and
having difficulty navigating my way through yet one more Pentecost sermon. I came early to sit
in the sanctuary and watch for the image of the red cross to make its pilgrimage across the front
of the sanctuary.(For those who have not experienced it the red cross inlaid into the window that
faces Norman Rogers casts a shadow over the sanctuary when it reflects the light of the early
morning sun. The red shadow of the cross makes its way across the front of the sanctuary. Every
year on Easter Sunday when we gather for the early morning service we watch as the red shadow
makes its way, miraculously falling on the wooden cross on the wall as we celebrate the
Eucharist.) It was overcast outside and there was no shadow, so I returned to my office and
began to write. Forty five minutes later I returned to the sacred space and there was the glorious
image making its way.
One arm of the cross was casting its red shadow onto the communion table that held the
communion trays. In the center of the table there was a Pentecost display with the red candles
and the entwined orange red and yellow cloths that looked like fire. There was red on the floor
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beside the altar between the pulpit and the organ. There was a smattering of red on the pews near
the aisle on the pulpit side and on the aisle where we all walk to greet one another in peace and
to make our way to our favourite seat. At one point the entire altar was swathed in glorious red,
and as the earth continued to move and the sun remained constant, the red shadow began to ebb,
and more of the natural wood was exposed.
The cross did not light up the back wall as it often does at Easter, but was concentrated on the
communion table, and down the aisle of the church. As I sat and watched the progression I
thought that this was the message of Pentecost.
The cross bathes the symbols of faith in light; infusing the chalice with new life and hope. What
began with the cross of crucifixion has found fulfillment in Pentecost. Despite the agony and
seeming failure of the cross there is the hope of the resurrection. After the resurrection there was
the ascension; and following the Ascension there was the giving of the Spirit at Pentecost to
remind us of the truth; to bind us together and to empower us in faith.
Like the rays that were on the floor between organ and altar, the shadow of the cross is underfoot
undergirding us with strength and hope. As the sun was covered in clouds sometimes the shadow
disappeared-as is the case at times when trials and tribulations impede our vision. But then it
would return; faint and pink blossoming to crimson in power and majesty; just as when we
reconnect with our faith after it has been challenged.
The experience was awesome; empowering and affirming. At one point the caretaker was
vacuuming the carpet in the narthex outside of the sanctuary doors and this too reminded that the
shadow of the cross is cast upon our work. In the midst of life and work there is the power of the
cross even if we are unaware of its presence. It goes before us and sheds light and power on the
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journey. This is the message of Pentecost: from the cross to the resurrection to the ascension to
|Pentecost and down the aisle and into the wider community of the world..
Today we celebrate the birth of the universal church. She is scarred and battered and weak with
age, but she still has a pulse, and a passionate heart that beats in hope. She is a tough old broad
who has survived schisms, Enlightenment and Post modernism. And though our experience of
church is very different from when Sunday schools were bursting at the seams and every pew
was filled, we must not lose heart. The teacup is still half full.
As the holy smoke continues to clear we can see that the fires have purged some tradition.
Churches, including our own need to do more with less, but thanks be to God we still have hope
in our future. We may not like to hear of yet another financial appeal but to even go out onto the
thin ice of asking- knowing that there are many who giving as much as they can- I take heart that
we have not given up entirely. We still try to see the teacup as half full. From heaven, to Calvary,
to Pentecost and down the center aisle into the world the shadow of the cross beacons and
empowers!. Thanks be to God! Amen.
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