Meandering Thoughts
It's Sunday Morning, Spring 2006, two Sunday's before Pentecost.
Pentecost and its history has played prominently in my life.
I remember the first time that I really read and pondered the 2nd chapter of Acts: I believe it was in either the third or 4th grade. Without any instruction to the contrary, I assumed that the miracle was in what was heard by the listeners, not what was spoken by the apostles. It seemed to my logical mind that the 11 were, speaking as normal, only empowered by the Spirit. However the miracle was that the hearers heard their own languages being spoken. (Sort of like a heavenly imposed bable-fish, for those familiar with the Hitch-hikers Guide.)
I still believe that, as it is rendered in some translations, this phenomenon would be a logical understanding. However, it is obvious from the writings of the church fathers and the context of other scriptures, that the meaning was a miracle of what was spoken, not that which was understood. None the less, this was the first time that I can remember seriously pondering this miracle. One which is often promulgated as merely the, "Birthday of the church", but which has far greater meaning and richness.
My second memorable encounter with the "tongues" aspect of Pentecost came during my adolescent years. Ones understanding of this event would be necessarily be colored by which side of Vatican two framed ones formative years (If Catholic) or how one was taught about, not only Pentecost, but also ecumenism, regardless the tradition of their Christian training or lack thereof.
In my case I was born during the Pontificate of John XXIII and had my first communion and confirmation, contemporaneously with the meetings that comprised the Second Vatican Council. Therefore these sacraments and their instructions were administered fully in pre-vatican II forms, although the stirrings of change were indeed starting to color the mindset of those involved in their administration. The other factor in this back-story, if you will, is that I was raised in the rather unique town of Oak Ridge Tennessee. Although this was probably one of the most diverse small towns of this era, that diversity was still rather stratified in comparison to modern cosmopolitan demographics. Despite this, the area was still less than 2% Catholic (We went to the only Catholic church in a multi-county area.) We were therefore, by both the diversification and the sparsity of Catholics, much more ecumenistic than most Christians at that time.
As one could surmise, many of my friends and acquaintances were anything other than Catholic. So we not only occasionally discussed our faiths but, every now and then, I would be invited to and attend services at various Protestant and Jewish places of worship. It was at this time that I had my first brushes with Fundamental Protestant Pentecostalism. I knew enough to see that there was some substance to their beliefs in scripture; that certain verses that they "zeroed in on" were obviously under-emphasized by most Christians.
Despite this understanding, their actions, the whole aspect of many people randomly and loudly "speaking in tongues", together with the almost chaotic spontaneity of their services were to this young sacramentallized Roman Catholic, in a word, "WEIRD!!" I decided that they could believe that and have their services in such a manner if that's what "floats their collective boats", but I was certainly not going to have any part of it.
Little did I know that the Spirit of Pentecost was going to enter the staid ole Roman Catholic tradition (Or as I would come to understand, RE-enter.) And that it was also going to be a major impact on my own walk in the future.
More on this later; to paraphrase a Psalm, "As a doe in the desert pants for running water, my daughter's heart longs to get on the computer. . ." Lol!!
Pentecost and its history has played prominently in my life.
I remember the first time that I really read and pondered the 2nd chapter of Acts: I believe it was in either the third or 4th grade. Without any instruction to the contrary, I assumed that the miracle was in what was heard by the listeners, not what was spoken by the apostles. It seemed to my logical mind that the 11 were, speaking as normal, only empowered by the Spirit. However the miracle was that the hearers heard their own languages being spoken. (Sort of like a heavenly imposed bable-fish, for those familiar with the Hitch-hikers Guide.)
I still believe that, as it is rendered in some translations, this phenomenon would be a logical understanding. However, it is obvious from the writings of the church fathers and the context of other scriptures, that the meaning was a miracle of what was spoken, not that which was understood. None the less, this was the first time that I can remember seriously pondering this miracle. One which is often promulgated as merely the, "Birthday of the church", but which has far greater meaning and richness.
My second memorable encounter with the "tongues" aspect of Pentecost came during my adolescent years. Ones understanding of this event would be necessarily be colored by which side of Vatican two framed ones formative years (If Catholic) or how one was taught about, not only Pentecost, but also ecumenism, regardless the tradition of their Christian training or lack thereof.
In my case I was born during the Pontificate of John XXIII and had my first communion and confirmation, contemporaneously with the meetings that comprised the Second Vatican Council. Therefore these sacraments and their instructions were administered fully in pre-vatican II forms, although the stirrings of change were indeed starting to color the mindset of those involved in their administration. The other factor in this back-story, if you will, is that I was raised in the rather unique town of Oak Ridge Tennessee. Although this was probably one of the most diverse small towns of this era, that diversity was still rather stratified in comparison to modern cosmopolitan demographics. Despite this, the area was still less than 2% Catholic (We went to the only Catholic church in a multi-county area.) We were therefore, by both the diversification and the sparsity of Catholics, much more ecumenistic than most Christians at that time.
As one could surmise, many of my friends and acquaintances were anything other than Catholic. So we not only occasionally discussed our faiths but, every now and then, I would be invited to and attend services at various Protestant and Jewish places of worship. It was at this time that I had my first brushes with Fundamental Protestant Pentecostalism. I knew enough to see that there was some substance to their beliefs in scripture; that certain verses that they "zeroed in on" were obviously under-emphasized by most Christians.
Despite this understanding, their actions, the whole aspect of many people randomly and loudly "speaking in tongues", together with the almost chaotic spontaneity of their services were to this young sacramentallized Roman Catholic, in a word, "WEIRD!!" I decided that they could believe that and have their services in such a manner if that's what "floats their collective boats", but I was certainly not going to have any part of it.
Little did I know that the Spirit of Pentecost was going to enter the staid ole Roman Catholic tradition (Or as I would come to understand, RE-enter.) And that it was also going to be a major impact on my own walk in the future.
More on this later; to paraphrase a Psalm, "As a doe in the desert pants for running water, my daughter's heart longs to get on the computer. . ." Lol!!