Un/Expected Spirit

I wasn’t able to celebrate Mass this weekend. After avoiding Covid since the beginning of the pandemic, I finally succumbed on Friday and tested positive. Hence the gravelly voice in this read message.

In this episode, I reflect on the true meaning of Pentecost, inviting us to move beyond gentle images and recognise the dramatic arrival of the Holy Spirit as a powerful, transformative force. Drawing from Scripture, I explore how Pentecost marks the birth of the Church as a living temple, uniting diverse peoples and empowering us for service. I encourage everyone to open themselves to the Spirit’s boldness, allowing God’s presence to stir us into action, so that together we may witness Christ’s love and bring hope to our communities.

It’s a tremendous joy to gather here today as we celebrate one of the most vibrant and foundational feasts in our Church calendar: Pentecost. For many, Pentecost might simply suggest images of a dove descending, or perhaps a gentle breeze – a lovely, serene picture. But if we truly delve into the account from the Acts of the Apostles, what we find is far more dynamic, far more dramatic, and, dare I say, far more exciting than a quiet flutter.

Readings Acts 2 more carefully, we notice the arrival of the Holy Spirit on that day didn’t quite correspond to what anyone would have expected, and yet, it was precisely what the Jewish prophets, from Isaiah to Ezekiel, Joel, and Zechariah, had hoped for: “a new work of the presence and Spirit of God in this new age.” It was an outpouring that “blows open the doors” of human expectation.

Imagine the scene, not as a gentle spiritual awakening, but as something truly earth-shattering. Luke tells us, “Suddenly there came from heaven a noise like a violent rushing wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting.” A violent rushing wind! Not a whisper, but a force. And then, the visual: “There appeared to them tongues as of fire distributing themselves, and they rested on each of them.” Fire! I don’t know about you, but if I saw flames descending and resting on people’s heads, my first instinct wouldn’t be quiet contemplation; it would probably be to duck for cover or to ask, “Is that lightning coming at me?” This was terrifying, bewildering, and utterly undeniable.

But here’s the profound theological shift Luke is pointing to. Fire, in the Bible, is a powerful symbol of God’s manifest presence. Think of Moses at the burning bush on Mount Sinai, or the glory cloud and fire over the tabernacle, and later, Solomon’s Temple. These were “temple spaces,” places where heaven and earth met, where God’s glory manifested itself. The radical, transformative message of Pentecost is this: now, Jesus’s people are where heaven and earth meet. This small group of disciples, filled with the Spirit, become the new temple, a temple not made of stone or cedar, but “made of people.” We, brothers and sisters, are that living temple.

And this new, living temple was immediately activated for universal service. Consider the diversity of the crowd gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost, a major pilgrimage feast. Luke explicitly lists people from fifteen different regions: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, from Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya, Cyrene, Rome, Cretans, and Arabs. This wasn’t just a local gathering; these were Jews, or converts to Judaism, from “every nation under heaven.” They were multicultural, speaking diverse languages, but united by their Jewish heritage.

The miracle of Pentecost was that these Galilean disciples began to “speak with other tongues” – that is, in languages they didn’t know – and crucially, every person in that vast crowd “was hearing them… speaking in their own language.” It’s a striking reversal of the Tower of Babel, where languages were confused to scatter humanity. Here, languages are miraculously understood to unite humanity, to gather them into the new community of God.

Peter then stands up and, empowered by the Spirit, gives a sermon that pulls directly from the Hebrew prophets, especially Ezekiel. He tells them, “Let all the house of Israel know,” echoing Ezekiel’s vision of the restoration and reunification of the twelve tribes. This Pentecost event, then, isn’t just a spiritual phenomenon; it’s the direct answer to the apostles’ earlier question to Jesus: “When is the time for you to restore the kingdom to Israel?” Here it is! The kingdom of God is breaking forth, not in a political overthrow, but in a spiritual transformation that gathers the scattered tribes into a new covenant people.

And what was the immediate outcome of this Spirit-filled experience? Peter declares, “You will receive power and become my witnesses.” They don’t just feel good; they become witnesses. They don’t hoard this divine power; they proclaim it. Thousands believed and were added to their number. And here’s where the Spirit’s availability for service truly shines. These newly converted Jews from all corners of the ancient world wouldn’t just stay in Jerusalem. They would eventually return to their homes in Iran, Mesopotamia, North Africa, Rome—carrying with them the fire of the Holy Spirit and the message of Jesus. This happened years, even a decade or more, before Paul would set out on his missionary journeys. The Spirit transformed them into the “nucleus” of this new movement, actively spreading the Gospel.

My friends, this same Holy Spirit, the very breath and power of God, is not a relic of ancient history. It is available to each one of us today. Through our baptism, through our confirmation, the Holy Spirit has been poured out upon us. We, too, are part of this living temple, inheritors of that same divine power. The Spirit is not given to us merely for our personal comfort, for a warm feeling on a Sunday, or for a private mystical experience. No, the Spirit is given for service.

What does that look like in our lives, here in Campbelltown, in 2025? It means that the violent rushing wind of the Spirit can stir us from complacency. It means the tongues of fire can ignite a boldness within us to speak God’s truth, even when it’s challenging. It means that when we see the suffering around us – the loneliness, the poverty, the injustice – the Spirit gives us the compassion and the courage to act, to serve, to be Christ’s hands and feet in our world.

Perhaps you feel inadequate, unsure how you can serve. Maybe you think, “I’m not a priest; I’m not a missionary.” But the Spirit transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. The Spirit empowers parents to raise their children in faith, neighbours to show kindness, professionals to embody ethical integrity, and ordinary people to speak a word of hope to someone in despair. It’s about being a witness in your daily life, using whatever gifts you have, wherever you are.

So, let us open ourselves to this “expected but unexpected” Spirit once more. Let us invite that same violent wind to sweep through the cobwebs of our complacency, and those tongues of fire to rest upon us—not to consume us, but to ignite within us a fervent desire for service. May we, as individuals and as a community, truly be the living temple of God, constantly being transformed by the Spirit to carry Christ’s light and love to every corner of our world, beginning right here in our own homes and community. Amen.