listening and laughing at pentecost...

Pentecost Sunday, one of my favorite liturgical holidays, and we were able to share it in the company of children and grandchildren in Brooklyn. It was holy ground for me as we walked through Central Park on Saturday: sailing boats in a pond, taking in a jazz ensemble, and racing through a new playground. There was time to laugh and listen, feast and be foolish, all in beautifully 70F weather. It was equally sacred to be in the sanctuary of St. Paul's Chapel in Manhattan where 4 infant baptisms, 3 confirmations of baptism, and Eucharist were celebrated in the Liturgy for Children. Grandson, Louie, sang in the choir lifting up a South African freedom song as well as "All Things Bright and Beautiful." What a grand time to be alive. 

Clarence Jordan, founder of Koinonia Farms and fount from which Habitat for Humanity sprang, once observed that the essence of Pentecost is being so touched by God's love for us that our experience empowers us with both the desire and ability to overcome human divisions. The true gift of tongues, Jordan preached, was the desire, creativity and grace to communicate and connect with people who looked, felt, sounded and often acted different from ourselves. At Pentecost, the early followers of Jesus finally encountered God's grace in much the way Mary Magdalene had while Jesus lived - and it compelled them to leave their fears behind and share the blessing they now knew to be at the heart of creation. Cynthia Bourgeault notes that Magdalene has been called the "apostle to the apostles" for she alone stood watch over Jesus through his passion, his crucifixion and then his resurrection. The men of the Jesus movement are likewise enlightened by God's spirit of grace at Pentecost and move into the world much like Mary. They are all wildly open to God's love and eager to figure out ways to multiply the miracle.

Jordan writes that God's grace inspired the apostles to get over themselves: St. Paul called this becoming "all things for all people." So, if you are called to touch
the hearts of young investment bankers on Wall Street, you need to know how to speak Wall Street. If you're energized by connecting to hipsters, you have to know how to groove. If you want to cross the racial divide, you damn well better learn the real history of racial oppression in the US of A. If you want to live in solidarity with women, that sexist crap has got to be crucified. And, if you want to talk and minister to children, you have to practice speaking simply, honestly and directly about the love of Jesus that you know directly - not abstractions - but from your experience.

Too often little ones in worship are treated like props in an adult religious pageant. Or the message is dumbed-down but still irrelevant. Or the sermon becomes a poorly edited, crudely truncated version of what you really wanted to say to the adults at 11 am. After 40 years of trying all of these dead-ends - and more - I have come to trust that children's worship must truly be for children. I have found that it is best not spend a lot of time crafting a theologically sophisticated sermon for this liturgy. There is a time and place for sophisticated thinking, but not in children's worship. Rather, give up trying to be cute and just share a well-considered, concise, and tender-hearted conversation about God's love. No need to entertain or impress. Just be loving and open and listen to who is at the heart of these liturgies. I love that St. Paul's Chapel welcomes all the children to gather around the altar for Eucharist - and some of the celebrants even invite them to share in the blessing on the bread and wine, too - it is simple, brilliant and real. It is participation that tears down all artificial walls of church hierarchy
while authentically welcoming our little ones into the feast. 

This calls to mind what Matthew Fox recently wrote about the archetype of the Grandfather. Classically this is the sennex, the elder male called by God to share wisdom with children and young adults through an open, gentle and joyful heart. Wisdom is never passed on by grouchy old men or bewildered, bumbling fools. No, it is the old timer who listens, loves and laughs with the children, wrapping them in a protective shield of compassion, who passes on truth and tradition to impressionable hearts, minds and bodies. Fox writes:

When we become freed from the daily burdens of work, career and raising of children we become more like we were when we were young–our time is more our own, and our heart can focus more on what matters. On what remains...Elders are often neglected in US society, which tends to value people for their consuming power (“I buy therefore I am”). Older men have a tremendous amount to share with younger generations. Time and experience, laughter and a certain detachment from everyday life—all that wisdom can be shared between the oldest and the youngest in society. But this wisdom does not spring forth of its own accord: for elders to play their rightful role they need to stay alive and stay in love with life.

For three days we were blessed with living into the deepest truths of Pentecost for grandparents as we sat with our little ones and listened to their stories. And laughed at their jokes. And walked with them in the park. And sang songs and hymns with them in worship. And celebrated the gift of love with their momma and daddy at meal times. And just savored their presence without any agenda. Anna, who will be two later this summer, already knows how to communicate in a combination of sign language, English and Spanish. Talk about Pentecost! And Louie sings, moves, fantasizes, and then engages in such creative ways that it often feels like we're in the midst of tongues of fire. On the way home from worship, we started laughing so hard on the R Train that we almost lost track of our stop. We were given the gift of time with these precious children so that we could hear and learn their language. And we are the richer for it all. Thanks be to God.