A homily for the Solemnity of Pentecost, June 8, 2025
Acts 2:1-11, 1 Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13, John 14:15-16, 23b-26
Back when I was a sophomore at Christian Brothers Academy in Lincroft, I was struggling to learn French. (I didn’t do much better in the years that followed, but that’s a story for another day.) My accent was horrendous, my memory of numbers was awful, and I failed miserably at determining which person, place or thing was a le and which was a la.
But one night as she was doing bed checks, Mom heard me talking in my sleep, in what she swore was flawless Français. I scoffed. So the next time she thought I was doing my best Maurice Chevalier, she recorded it, to play back in the morning.
I sounded more like the “pardon my French” you might hear on a golf course but never in church.
Indeed, I was babbling as the prideful citizens of Babel were cursed to do, and not speaking in tongues, as the Apostles were empowered to do after the Holy Spirit descended on them 2,000 years ago. Nope, no glossolalia here.
I can’t recall any instances in the 55 years since then that would qualify, either.
But for me, and for all of us energized by the Spirit — who visits us constantly, but especially on this powerful feast of Pentecost — the language is secondary at best, anyway.
What’s foremost is the message.
We’re called to speak truth.
We’re called to speak God’s truth.
We’re called to speak the truth proclaimed by the Son of God in every one of his words and every one of his actions.
We’re called to speak the truth of the Cross.
We’re commanded to proclaim the truth of Salvation, the truth that Jesus of Nazareth lived, died and rose from the dead to clear The Way for us to have a home in the Kingdom of God.
We’re ordered to use our words and actions to bring that Kingdom to life, as much as humanly possible, on this tormented blue marble in the sky that we call home right now.
And speaking this truth, this radical notion of loving each other as Jesus loved us — loves us — can be terrifying. Speaking this truth to earthly power when those in power love their power, cling to their power, and scorn love and empathy, might even be life-threatening.
Yeah: terrifying.
So: The Holy Spirit inspires us. Guides us. Teaches us. Teaches us what to say and do. Teaches us how to say and do what keeps us on The Way home to God and how to walk with our sisters and brothers on that path.
Sometimes we’ll lead them. Sometimes we’ll follow them (and occasionally nudge or prod them). Mostly, though, we’ll walk side by side, literally or figuratively, or both, because that’s what families do. Families created in the image and likeness of God.
This weekend, some appropriately timed gusts of wind served as simple symbols of the Holy Spirit’s whoosh. The windiness of this past winter and spring should have reminded us that, like the very air we breathe, the Spirit is always around us and in us, strong enough to bowl us over yet also gentle enough to comfort us in times of stress.
May we welcome and fully embrace the Holy Spirit in our lives, every day of our lives. May we be inspired.
