Perhaps you have noticed the fine print. Tonight, we are not celebrating Pentecost. Granted, the colors are the same. You may have even noticed the banner of the Holy Spirit as you entered the church, but for now we are celebrating the vigil of Pentecost, recapturing a feeling of anticipation. As the gospel tells us, “There was no spirit, because Jesus had not yet been glorified.”
Like the apostles in the upper room, we find ourselves waiting, much like those who came to the Easter Vigil, fifty days ago. That night we came into a dark church anticipating the resurrection of Jesus. Our darkness was soon dispelled by the light of the Easter candle. For the past seven weeks, we have been in the company of the risen Lord. Tonight, that isn’t the case. Instead, we encounter Jesus standing in the temple area, inviting anyone who thirsts to come to him.
How odd that may seem, given that this is still the season of Easter. Unlike the vigil of Easter, this vigil occurs in the midst of rejoicing. We know that Jesus is raised from the dead. We have been singing alleluias for seven weeks with great joy; we have been covered by the saving waters of baptism. However, the readings tonight remind us that something is missing. That something is the Holy Spirit, the least understood and most unappreciated person of the Holy Trinity. That is what the disciples were waiting for in the days following Jesus’ ascension. Without the Spirit, the Church would never have been born and the good news of Jesus would have simply faded away.
I don’t doubt that the Holy Spirit is missing from the lives of many Catholics today. Granted, like me, they were baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit and a fair number of them were even confirmed, the one sacrament we most associate with the Holy Spirit, but I venture to say that the Spirit is missing from their lives, otherwise, they would be here in our midst. Instead, their faith is lifeless, like dry bones.
God wants us to yearn for the Holy Spirit in our lives. Imagine yourself on a roller coaster; the thrill that comes with every climb, the excitement that comes with each descent. Or imagine the great anticipation you had as a child waiting for Christmas or your birthday or the arrival of a close relative or friend. That is what God wants us to experience with our faith. He wants to infuse breath into our dry bones. God wants our faith to be alive and be vibrant, but that can only happen if we quiet ourselves enough from our busy lives to hear the breath of the Spirit in our midst.
As St. Paul points out, in hope we are saved but do we truly care? Until we find ourselves in a crisis, a fair number don’t. Ho-hum is the attitude many people have about their relationship with God. I will call them “flat Christians.” They remind me of the flat characters one finds in movies or novels who never get excited; they do what is expected of them, acting in predictable ways. Flat Christians live as though nothing exciting will ever happen.
Are you one of them, or can you imagine the Holy Spirit coming on the scene and infusing you with an enthusiasm equal to any you have ever experienced before? For the past nine days, our parish has been praying a novena, which we conclude tonight, invoking the Holy Spirit to come into our lives. Why? Because without its presence in our midst, we risk becoming flat Christians.
We implore the Holy Spirit to penetrate us, to bring life to our dry bones, to give new life to our faith, to transform us just as our gifts of bread and wine are transformed.
For some of us, encountering the Spirit takes a crisis rather than a vigil. In his novel, Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens touches on that reality. As a young child, Oliver is orphaned. He is sent to a workhouse in London. Eventually he winds up being taken in by a band of professional pickpockets. They are the only family that Oliver has ever known.
There comes a moment in this story when Oliver has to face rejection by those he loved. Ultimately the collapse of this young boy’s world brings him in touch with a grandfather he never knew.
Remember the promise Jesus made that he would never leave us orphaned? He assured his listeners that the Father would give them the Spirit of truth, which the world neither sees nor accepts, for it rejects divine wisdom. He will send us that Spirit, but not likely with the same drama of dancing flames that the apostles witnessed in the upper room.
As creatures and sinners we need the Holy Spirit to sustain our relationship with God, to love God and our neighbor in the deepest way that allows for acceptance and forgiveness when the need for either arise.
The ancient Hebrew word for Spirit is ruah, which means breath. So quiet is our typical breath that we hardly notice. In much the same way, the Spirit is present in our midst, working quietly when and where we least expect: in our homes, our workplaces, during a crisis, an illness, in the aftermath of a tragedy or a crime. The bottom line is this: Jesus Christ will not disappoint those who are eager to be with him, for in their eagerness, they will encounter his gift of the Holy Spirit. He will quench their thirst and give life to their dry bones.