Pentecost 2022

 

Lectionary readings: Acts 2:1-21 and John 14:8-17, 25-27

Once [according to the historian Josephus] there were two brothers, named Anilai and Asinai, part of the Jewish diaspora living within the Parthian empire. They were poor, fatherless boys, and their widowed mother found them apprenticeship to a weaver. Whether they were indolent, or their master unjust, who can now say; but when he punished them for laziness, they ran away to become outlaws, hiding out in the marshlands of the great Euphrates River. Other discontented Jewish boys flocked to them, and they organised themselves to extort protection money from the semi-nomadic shepherds of that region, in time establishing a small bandit state.

This displeased the Parthian governor of Babylonia, who determined to defeat them by means of a surprise attack on the Sabbath. It may be clear by now that these were not the most devout of Jews, and they fought back regardless, humiliating their attacker. Impressed, the Parthian king Artabanus III, having had enough of putting down rebellions among his own satraps, made a treaty with the brothers, recognising their control over the territory they anyway occupied.

And so, it might well have continued, had Anilai not married the gentile widow of a Parthian general he had killed in battle. This divided his camp, even coming between the brothers themselves. For Asinai was vocal in condemning his brother’s actions; so much so that the general’s widow murdered her bandit brother-in-law by poisoning him. Anilai limped on, alone, until his resources ran out. Around 33AD—as, in far-off Jerusalem Peter was addressing a crowd of gathered diaspora pilgrims—the bandit state came to an end. Of course, that state did not represent most of the Parthian Jews, but nonetheless its presence had kept them safe, after a fashion. With its demise, Babylonian discontent with their Jewish neighbours rose-up with renewed vigour, the diaspora community fleeing, yet again, in search of peace.

Some of those Parthian Jews were there on the day of Pentecost.

In truth, similar stories and more could be said of all the territories and diaspora peoples listed that day: the Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene; visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes; Cretans and Arabs. In every direction around Jerusalem, contested lands, contested identities. Surrounding nations who had enslaved the Jewish people: the exodus from Egypt, the Babylonian exile. Tribes of distant relatives we don’t speak about in polite company. Nations, such as Rome, who had invaded and occupied the long-promised land. This is not so much a list of tricky place names or exotic holiday destinations as a summary of every ebb and flow of the story of God’s people, and every high tide mark they had washed up on.

Messy stories of human lives, both personal and collective. People doing whatever it takes to get by. And of God, who is not impressed by our heroic adventures, nor it transpires repulsed by our shabbiest dealings, but who sees us and who wants to be with us, wherever we find ourselves. Who, by God’s very nature, comes as Jesus to save us, to restore us, to bless us, by God’s own transformative presence, being with us—and to send us out to be a blessing, God’s own transformative presence in every place, however broken and full of ghosts it may be.

You must go looking for the stories, or else stumble across them by chance, of lives transformed by the Holy Spirit poured out on all flesh, such that the elderly sowed dreams of a future worth hoping for, and the young generation spoke truth to power in the face of whatever stood opposed to that dream. Though most of the stories are lost to time, held only now by God. But the Spirit has been poured out continuously since that day, giving rise to dreams that birth visions that mature into dreams that birth vision anew, in unbroken succession down to our own day, and far beyond.

Every Spirit-empowered, Spirit-encouraged, dream-vision-movement-reality that has changed the face of the world by drawing those on the margins, the oppressed and left-behind, to be enfolded and honoured; these are the works of Jesus, done through his sisters and brothers, of which he said, ‘these works are greater than the ones I began with.’ No longer confined to one forgotten corner of a now long-dead empire: freedom for slaves, civil rights recognised, equality for women, inclusion for those with disabilities, healing for the sick, a welcome home for the refugee. Precious things that cannot be taken for granted, and work yet still to do—new visions and dreams rising in every generation; new crises of judgement to be faced, by which all that opposes the love of God in Christ Jesus is humbled and all that shares in his glory is honoured. And all with the purpose that as Jesus is with the Father, so, by the Spirit, the Father and the Son are with us. God with us. What a time to be alive. Come, Holy Spirit.