Pentecost B
My
sister and her family are camping this Memorial Day weekend,
and
I went to see them for a little while Friday night.
Someone
had given my 9-year-old nephew
his
first model car kit—a ’77 Pontiac Firebird—
and
he was sitting in the camper excited to get started.
It
was a scene right out of my own childhood—maybe yours, too:
a
cardboard box full of teeny tiny plastic parts,
an
instruction sheet covered with complicated diagrams,
and
a tube of sticky glue that promises to dry quickly…then never does.
In
recent years,
we’ve
heard the word “gathering” a lot in Catholic circles.
The
Entrance Chant of the Mass
is
commonly now called the “Gathering Song.”
New
and renovated church buildings don’t have vestibules;
they
have “gathering spaces.”
But
if you read official Church documents,
the preferred word you find for the faithful who come to Mass
isn’t
a “gathering,” but an “assembly.”
There’s
a real difference between the two,
and
it’s worthy of our reflection
as
we celebrate Pentecost this Sunday.
What
do we typically mean when we speak of a gathering?
I
think of a get-together like many people will have for Memorial Day:
something
casual and social—a party, a picnic, a barbeque.
People
gather to mix and mingle.
There’s
often no particular reason for it—
no
agenda; nothing specific to accomplish.
Many
are invited to a gathering;
whoever
can make it, comes.
An
assembly, however, is rather different, isn’t it?
I
think of assemblies in the school gymnasium.
Maybe
they’re different today, but when I was still in school
an
assembly was always a rather orderly affair:
students
were seated by class or homeroom,
there
were places for the teachers
and
the principal had a designated spot right up front.
An
assembly is always called with a very particular purpose in mind.
At
an assembly, your presence is expected
and
your absence is always noted.
Can
you begin see what difference it makes
that
the Church calls this an assembly
rather
than a gathering?
Like
my nephew’s model car,
we
as God’s people are “some assembly required.”
It’s
not enough that we gather—
like
so many parts collected in a single box.
The
pieces have to be put together,
and
that’s the specialty of the Holy Spirit.
The
Holy Spirit is given to us
like
an instruction sheet for putting the Church together.
He
is the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father—
sent
to guide us into all truth.
We’re
not interchangeable parts—
a
random gathering of individuals
who
happen to pray in the same place at the same time.
No,
we are members of one body—
each
part, with its own gifts, absolutely vital to the whole.
We
certainly see that at Mass:
the
priest has his role,
the deacon, servers, readers, musicians,
and
ministers of every sort have theirs,
as
does the entire assembly of the faithful.
We know
full well what confusion it causes
or inadvertently
takes another person’s task.
And
just as your own human body doesn’t function
simply
because all your parts are in the right places
(as
important as that may be),
so,
too, forming the Body of Christ is more
than
a matter of merely being in the right configuration.
Each
one of us must fully and consciously do his or her part
as
outlined in God’s original design.
It’s
not enough to occupy a pew!
We
need to know our purpose—as individuals and a whole—
and
be clear about why we do what we do.
Now,
the Holy Spirit isn’t only our instruction sheet;
he’s
also the glue that holds all these many parts together.
On
Pentecost, the Apostles were enabled
to
speak to the people of many nations in one voice—
in
a language everybody was able to understand.
What
had previously been just a large and very diverse gathering
could
now be assembled as one.
Consider
how we recite the Creed at Mass.
Each
part begins with, “I believe…”
Yes,
it is my personal profession of faith,
assenting
to all God has revealed.
But
it is also the voice of the whole Church speaking as one—
the
Church’s collective “I.”
You
see, the “glue” of the Holy Spirit unities us,
without
ever making us all the same.
A
gathering of soloists, each doing their own thing,
is
only able to make noise,
while
a choir assembled to sing a common song, even in multiple parts,
can
produce a most beautiful harmony.
we
can be so much more than the sum of our parts.
This
bond which the Holy Spirit forms
among
the disciples of Jesus
is,
of course, meant to hold us together
for
more than just an hour each Sunday.
That’s
why the Spirit is also something
that
my nephew’s model car will never need: fuel.
The
Holy Spirit is the power that moves things forward.
And
fuel, to do its job, must burn.
Do
we not find the Apostles marked by fire
after
receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit?
What
about us? Do we allow the same
Spirit to burn within us?
Would
anybody look at us and say,
“There’s
an assembly on fire for it’s faith”?
We
live in a time that has developed
some
incredible technologies for communication,
but
we seem to have lost our knack
for
building and sustaining authentic community.
We
have more ways to connect,
yet
are more isolated than ever.
I
think of the race to the parking lot that follows most Masses.
The
rush to get to the next thing
doesn’t
exactly say that we’ve connected on a deep level—
that
we’ve been fully assembled—does it?
If
it were only because we were in such a hurry
to
go out and spread the Gospel!
We
must give the Holy Spirit permission to change us—
to
glue us together following the pattern laid out by Christ
and
then ignite us with his holy fire—
I
suspect that model car kit
will
occupy my nephew much of this holiday weekend.
I
also suspect he won’t have a complete ’77 Firebird by Monday.
Some
assembly will still be required.
Likewise,
the Church is a work in progress—
assembled
not just once, but Sunday after Sunday,
year
after year, down through the ages.
While
the Church was first begun on Pentecost,
she
will only be fully assembled in heaven,
where
the risen Christ has gone in triumph before us.
As
members of his one Body,
let
us each play our unique part, all the while in perfect unity,
that
the Spirit sent out by the Lord
may
accomplish his mission within, among, and through us,
and
thus renew the very face of the earth.
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