“My life goes on in endless song. / Above earth's lamentation, / I hear the real, though far-off hymn / That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife / I hear its music ringing / It sounds an echo in my soul / How can I keep from singing?”
How can we keep from singing?
Fifty days ago we gathered here, on Easter Eve, to sing a song. It was an ancient song—a song of fire and water. We sang about new fire, kindled in the darkness, greeting the new light of resurrection. We sang about deep waters—the Red Sea and the Flood—which threaten to destroy but which God uses for good. We sang about the waters flowing out from God’s Temple—the waters of salvation which God gives freely to any who thirst. It was a night to rejoice in all God’s works—in all God’s deeds of power.
It was a night to celebrate God’s greatest victory, conquering death in the resurrection of Christ. And so we sang a song of fire and water—a song of how God has worked in the world. How could we keep from singing?
Since that night we’ve continued to sing this song of fire and water. These great fifty days are a season of change—of transformation. This Easter season invites us to hold onto those deeds of power that we proclaimed on Easter eve and let them change us. We have soaked ourselves in the song that rises above tumult, lamentation and strife—the song that reminds us that beauty comes out of brokenness.
We have sung this song as we have welcomed the children who have been buried and raised with Christ in the waters of baptism.We have sung this song as we have walked with the youth being confirmed as the Holy Spirit has rained down like life-giving fire to stir up and strengthen her gifts in their hearts. We have sung this song as we have laid bare the hurt and grief and anxiety in our hearts persevering together through the streams of our tears and the flames of our tempers, trusting the promise of unity Paul echoes for us today: that “in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body and made to drink of one Spirit.” We have seen God’s deeds of power in our midst. So how can we keep from singing?
On Pentecost we remember the next movement in this song of fire and water, as God pours out the Holy Spirit upon all flesh, transforming the Apostles—a ragtag bunch of hicks from Galilee—into an awesome witness to God’s universal reign. They’re drunk—not on wine that numbs and kills—but on the water of life Christ has drenched them in. They’re burning—not with flaming tempers or flashing resentments—but with the fiery light God has kindled in them.
Filled with the Spirit, the newborn Church starts to sing. They sing the same song that’s been on our lips these last fifty days—the song that proclaims God’s deeds of power. They sing about how the Messiah has come, fulfilling God’s promise in unexpected ways. They sing about how God’s children, who were once scattered, estranged, and divided, are now gathered and unified as one holy people. They sing about how God is renewing the face of the earth: about how things which were cast down are being raised up; about how things which had grown old are being made new. They sing the same song of fire and water, uttering the words that only God’s Spirit could teach them: “Jesus is Lord.”
In some ways, today—Pentecost—is an ending. It’s the coda of the season of Easter, concluding our focused reflection on the meaning of Resurrection and the tools we have for living this new life we receive in Christ. But in a real way, Pentecost is just the beginning. As the story unfolds, the first Christians go into the world, carrying with them this encounter with God and the Spirit-filled conviction that “Jesus is Lord.”
And they share this Good News wherever they go. The fire that rains down on them at Pentecost, becomes a contagious flame of renewal and light that they pass on to those that they meet. The spiritual deluge that soaks them today, becomes a mighty river of living water that flows from their hearts.
Yes, Pentecost seals up one chapter in the lives of the Apostles, but it also points them forward, on to what’s next. It points them forward to sharing the song of God’s deeds of power—the song of fire and water. They’ve soaked up the Spirit and been set ablaze. How can they keep from singing?
As we stand with the Apostles beginning their mission, Pentecost shows us the role that we have in carrying out God’s plan of salvation. The whole Church of God—that wonderful and sacred mystery—was anointed with the Holy Spirit that day. The whole Church. And that includes us. Paul assures us that this whole Church—the whole Body of Christ—shares in one Spirit, poured out on Pentecost. We have been set ablaze with the same fire as the Apostles. We have been filled with the same living water as them.
And we have received these gifts for the same reason as them: so that we can say with them that Jesus is Lord; so that the living water transforming our lives can well up within us for others; so that the light of God’s Spirit teaching our hearts can kindle a fire in others; so that the unity and love we share in and through God can be extended to others.
So, today, as some things end and others begin, remember that the song we’ve been singing ain’t over. It’s the song of the same Spirit—the same fire and water—that runs through the whole story of salvation. It’s the song that hails the new creation. It’s an ancient song—an endless song—as eternal as God’s love that sustains all creation. With such a song filling our hearts, how can we keep from singing?