St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL
Acts 2:1–21
Good morning, St. John’s.
We have got a lot going on today!
Today is Pentecost:
the birthday of the Church,
the coming of the Holy Spirit,
and the one day a year
when it is totally acceptable
to show up to church looking like a lit match.
You wore red, right?
You did not forget?
Because if you forgot, do not worry . . .
the Holy Spirit will find you anyway.
She is sneaky like that.
And on this beautiful day,
we are doing three beautiful, Spirit-filled things:
1. We are celebrating Pentecost itself;
2. we are baptizing baby Lettie into the household of God;
3. and we are saying farewell and thank you
to the legendary Betsy Calhoun,
who has been leading the music of this parish
for the last thirty-five years.
That’s a lot of Holy Spirit in one morning, folks!
So let’s back up for a second.
* * *
What even is Pentecost?
Well, for starters,
it is one of the Church’s biggest feast days,
right up there with Christmas and Easter.
The word Pentecost means “fiftieth,”
because it falls exactly 50 days after Passover
and 50 days after Easter.
And on this day all those years ago,
the disciples were all huddled together in fear
when the Holy Spirit came WHOOSHING in
like a hurricane from heaven,
lit their heads on fire,
and sent them out to tell the world
that Christ is alive
and God’s love is for everyone.
That, my friends, is why we wear red . . .
not just because it is a good summer color
but because it is the color of Spirit,
the color of courage,
the color of fire.
And do you want to know the best part of the story of Pentecost?
Do you want to know the grace of it all, right up front?
Y’all, the grace of this story and the grace of this day is that
God does not wait around for us to get our act together
before the Holy Spirit shows up.
Those disciples were not particularly brave.
They were not particularly eloquent.
And yet,
there came the Holy Spirit . . .
like wind,
like fire,
like a flame that cannot be extinguished.
The same is true for you and me.
* * *
But as much as I love all this red—
the fire, the flame, the flash of it all—
there is another image for the Holy Spirit
that I love even more.
And it feels especially fitting this week
with all the luscious rain we have had in Tallahassee.
Back in the fourth century,
a bishop named St. Cyril of Jerusalem
thought about the Holy Spirit and said,
“Nah. Forget about fire.
I say the Holy Spirit is like rain.”
Think about that.
He’s not wrong.
Rain does not pick favorites.
Rain does not wait for you to get your act together.
Rain just falls . . .
on the just and the unjust,
on the thirsty and the unprepared,
on the well-tended garden
and the cracked, dry ground.
Rain is the same everywhere you go.
Water is water is water.
But when it falls,
it does something miraculous.
It does not stay rain.
It becomes something more.
In the lily, it becomes white.
In the rose, it becomes red.
In the fields, green and strong.
In the vine, it becomes fruit.
In the wheat, it becomes bread.
In the world, it becomes life.
And so it is,
says Cyril of Jerusalem,
with the Holy Spirit.
There is only
one Body and one Spirit;
one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism;
one God and Father of all,
but that Spirit becomes exactly what is needed,
in each of us,
for the sake of us
and for all the world.
In the musician, the Spirit becomes melody.
In the preacher, the Spirit becomes word.
In the peacemaker, the Spirit becomes courage.
In the weary, the Spirit becomes strength.
In the child, the Spirit becomes possibility.
The Holy Spirit is not a relic.
She is the Lord, the giver of life,
the rain . . .
still falling,
still forming,
still becoming
what this aching, beautiful world needs most.
And the miracle is this:
it becomes it through you.
* * *
Which brings me to Lettie.
In just a few minutes,
we will pour the waters of baptism over her head.
We will welcome her as Christ’s own forever.
And we will pray that the Holy Spirit will guide her
all the days of her life.
Now, the truth is she will not remember a bit of it.
But you will.
All of you.
You will remember this moment.
You will remember those waters.
And you will promise that you will do everything in your power
to help Lettie grow into the full person
God is creating her to be.
The same Spirit that hovered over creation,
the same Spirit that poured down on the disciples,
the same Spirit that rained down on you in your baptism . . .
is falling fresh again today.
And just like rain,
it will become in Lettie
exactly what the world needs most from her.
* * *
But while Lettie is just getting started,
we are also giving thanks today
for someone who has given her life
to this church and to its music:
our beloved Betsy Calhoun.
For thirty-five years,
Betsy has let the Spirit move through this place
to teach, to shape, to inspire, to praise.
She has lifted hearts and taught children.
She has shepherded choirs and steadied clergy.
She has weathered changes in
rectors,
organs,
singers,
and choirs.
And all along, the Spirit has used her
to bring forth music we did not know we could make . . .
to draw forth from our lips
chants of sorrow and songs of joy,
hymns of hope and anthems of praise.
If St. Cyril of Jerusalem is right—
if the Holy Spirit really is like rain—
then Betsy has been one of the great, deep-rooted trees
in the middle of this parish garden:
strong, wise, and alive with the Spirit’s music.
And she has done it all with
steadiness,
and brilliance,
and that hilarious, gregarious cackle
that makes you laugh, too.
Truth is, Betsy hates it when we talk about her,
and I can guarantee she is hating this part
of this sermon right now.
But it is only because Betsy truly believes
that none of these things are about her.
They are about the Holy Spirit and community,
and what the grace of God has done through all of us together.
Betsy, for the last 35 years you allowed the Holy Spirit
to flow through you and to bless us all,
and all our lives are forever better because of it.
So thank you.
* * *
So . . .
with all these wonderful things happening in our midst,
what do we do now?
Well, we celebrate.
We laugh.
We cry.
We sing.
We pour water.
We give thanks.
But most of all today,
we remember that the Holy Spirit
is not a one-day-only kind of deal.
The Spirit is still falling.
Still filling.
Still flowing.
Today, it falls on Lettie.
Today, it flows through Betsy.
And today, it rests on you . . . all of you.
So open your hands.
Lift up your heads.
Take in a deep breath.
For the Spirit of the Lord God is upon you.
You have everything you need
to make Christ known
and to make this world
a better, more beautiful place.
So happy Pentecost, y’all,
and let it rain.
Amen.