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DIAKONIA BIBLE STUDY #2

Shaken by the Wind of God’s Empowering, Equipping Spirit

Acts 2, Genesis 11; Romans 8

[note to translator—during the session itself, I may omit some of this if time is getting short.

It sounds like the right time length when I practice, but with a crowd the pace may slow

down. If you want to contact me at all, my e-mail is gsayler@wartburgseminary.edu ]

Good morning! I trust you had a good Sunday free-time experience and a restful evening and

are ready to resume our work together. Friday we focused on the calming, creating wind of God

as a source of hope and courage for our ministries in these often terribly chaotic times. This

morning, we turn our attention to the empowering, equipping wind of God shaking us out of

our comfort zones and sending us forth in ever new ways to look beyond ourselves at the shape

of our ministries in our time and places. We begin with the well-known story of the birth of the

church at Pentecost.

The continuation of the Apostle Luke’s account of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, the Book

of Acts begins in Jerusalem where the 11 disciples have gathered to pick a successor for Judas

as they await the outpouring of the Holy Spirit promised by Jesus prior to his ascension.

Politically, Jerusalem was under the control of the Roman Empire and its local henchmen.

Imperial Rome was not a kind ruler. On the contrary, its military might imposed an artificial

unity on conquered peoples in the name of “peace” that masked the violence, injustice, and

periodic terror of Roman rule. Our story begins as faithful Jews from a wide geographical

expanse gather in Jerusalem 50 days after Passover for the Pentecost celebration of the

ingathering of the first fruits of harvest. One of three times a year when Jews from all over the

Roman world gather in Jerusalem, the pilgrims and Jewish residents of the city come together

to thank God for all of God’s goodness to them. Despite Rome’s onerous presence, then, the

city is filled with faithful Jews who share a common faith in Israel’s God, but who are different

from each other in so many other ways. Our text begins as the festival is concluding.

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Acts 2:1-3 “And when the day of Pentecost was coming to its close, they all were together in

one place. And suddenly there was a noise from heaven like a violent wind rushing by and it

filled the house where they were sitting, and there appeared divided tongues, as if of fire, and a

tongue rested on each one.”

While the crowds fill the streets, the disciples are together inside a house, walled away from

the din and smells and rushing around of the crowds outside. Suddenly, the quiet of this

comfortable place is interrupted by the noise of a violent wind rushing by—a wind so strong

that it makes the winds that make Chicago the Windy City--winds which you may have

experienced at times this week--seem incredibly calm. This is not the gentle, hovering wind of

Genesis 1, but a forceful blast filling the house, disrupting everyone and everything it touches.

With it come tongues—the organs of speech—tongues as if of fire resting on the heads of the

disciples. The imagery is powerful. In Genesis 1, God birthed creation by speaking it into being;

in Acts 2 the presence of the tongues foreshadows the speaking in many languages that will

herald the birth of the church.

The phrase “as of fire” reminds us of the variety of settings in which fire appears in the Old

Testament. In Exodus 3, for example, Moses encounters a bush that burns and burns but

doesn’t burn out, a sign to him of God’s holy presence and God’s commitment to lead the

Israelites safely through whatever fiery tribulations their journeys may take them. Similarly, in

Daniel 3, God protects Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace to which

Nebuchadnezzar had consigned them by stationing an angel in the furnace with them. And one

more example: the profound promise of Isaiah 43:2: “Whenever you walk through the fire you

shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” God’s holy presence, God’s

protection in times of trial, God’s perpetual promise—all reflected in the image of fire—and in

our text signified by the tongues like fire accompanying the rushing wind. The text continues:

Acts 2:4 “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as

the Spirit gave them utterance.”

Can you envision what it might have been like to be caught in this wind, to inhale the in-

dwelling Spirit, the wind that changes everything for the disciples, propeling them out of their

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comfort zones into adventures they never would have never believed could happen? Can you

see the tongues as of fire on their heads, and hear their voices suddenly speaking in languages

unknown to the disciples, but known to the multitudes of pilgrims gathered in Jerusalem that

day? What an amazing sight: tongues like of fire on the disciples’ heads signifying God’s holy

presence, God’s protection in times of trial, God’s perpetual promise even as the disciples’

physical tongues speak that which normally would be impossible.

We are not told the disciples’ initial reaction to this interruption of their quiet day, to what is

happening within and through them, but we are told the reaction of the crowds who hear

them. It is one of chaos and confusion.

Acts 2:5-13 “Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.

And at this sound the crowd gathered and was confused, because each person heard the

disciples speaking in the person’s native language. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are

not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each one of us, in our own

native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and

Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to

Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our languages

we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying

one to another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new

wine.”

There is a lot to unpack in these few verses. Hearing the noise of all those languages being

spoken, a crowd gathers. Their initial reaction to this outpouring of the Holy Spirit is mass

confusion, first because each person hears in their own language despite the cacophony of

voices simultaneously speaking different languages and secondly because of the reputation of

the speakers. Galilee was a rural area north of Jerusalem with a predominantly peasant

population. The question “are not these men Galileans?” reflects the stereotype of Galileans as

uneducated, simple, and backward. In this country, the colloquial term for that populace would

be “hick.” I imagine each of you has a word in your language for this stereotype as well.

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Through the speaking of the disciples, each ethnic group gathered in Jerusalem hears in its own

language the Gospel proclamation of God’s deeds of power. On that Pentecost day, the playing

field—so uneven within the societal structures of the Roman Empire—was totally level. Each

person heard the same Gospel but in their own language.

When God spoke creation into being in Genesis 1, no contrary voices were heard. When the

Spirit, speaking through the disciples, speaks the church into being in Acts, the response is

divided. The text says that all who heard were amazed and perplexed as they asked “what does

this mean?” But not everyone in the crowd is open to pondering the possibility that what is

happening is something totally new, something with potential to push them out of their

comfort zones into a different future than they had ever envisioned for themselves or for the

world. On the contrary, a segment of the crowd dismisses the whole event by sneeringly

asserting that the disciples are acting strange because they are drunk on wine.

Before we move to Peter’s reply to the question “what does this mean?,” it is helpful to pause a

bit and look briefly at another story that in some intriguing ways serves as a backdrop to Acts 2.

Interpreters long have noted a relationship between Acts 2 and the Genesis 11 story of the

Tower of Babel. In both texts, diversity of languages plays a crucial role. In both texts, God’s

action causes confusion which propels people out of their comfort zones into new, unknown

and often nerve-wracking adventures among people and places they never dreamt they would

go.

Genesis 11:1-9 “Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they

migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And

they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had

brick for stone and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build for ourselves a city,

and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we

shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.” The Lord came down to see the

city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the Lord said, “Look, they are one people, and

they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that

they propose to do now will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their

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language there, so that they will not understand one another’s speech.” So the Lord scattered

them abroad from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city.

Therefore it was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth;

and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of the earth.”

Often, the diversity of languages and cultures with which the story ends is understood as a

punishment for the sin of building the tower. According to this interpretation, God desires that

all people be a unified whole with everyone essentially alike. When this desire gets thwarted by

prideful humanity building the tower reaching into the heavens, God punishes humanity by

dividing the peoples of the earth into different ethnic groups spread throughout the world.

According to this interpretation, Acts 2 reverses the Tower of Babel account by re-establishing

the unity of humanity that God desires.

This interpretation is one way to understand the story. But another way of reading Genesis 11

suggests a different interpretation—one with significant implications for the relationship

between Genesis 11 and Acts 2 and for the shape of our ministries as well.

Genesis 11 begins with the inhabitants of the earth in a very comfortable, safe place. Their

unified language makes it possible for them to control their environment, to work hard

together and build a great city with its tower reaching into the heavens. If the humans can

scale the heavens, they can reach God’s abode. If they can accomplish this, they can consider

themselves gods. Their unity allows them to believe that they can control the universe. In

many ways, the unified control they claim will reverberate millennia later in the controlled

“unity” Rome tries to impose upon its conquered territories.

Back to Genesis 11: Looking down from the heavens, God sees and—noting that this kind of

unity is not a good thing—God acts. Speaking to the heavenly council—probably what today

we would call angels—God decides to confuse humanity’s language so that various groups can

no longer understand each other. This action complete, God scatters humanity in their

multiple, distinct ethnic groups throughout the earth.

According to this reading of Genesis 11, a unity in which everyone essentially is alike is not a

goal to be desired; on the contrary, the controlled unity within the uneven power structures

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that it generates is an obstacle that must be overcome. God’s response—dividing humanity

into multiple expressions, each with its own language and traditions—is a gift, not a

punishment. Only in diversity of expressions can the many shapes and colors of human

potential be realized. Only in diversity can the unique gifts of every person and each ethnic

group come to full fruition.

According to this reading of Genesis 11, rather than reversing the Tower of Babel story, Acts 2

completes it as each of the multiple expressions of humanity is able to hear the good news of

God’s deeds of power in their own languages. There is only one Gospel. The value of unity in

the Gospel is not denied, but is situated within the context of multiple expressions of the Good

News adaptable to each particular ethnic group addressed.

Unity in diversity—a theme that permeates much of contemporary Christian thought and many

of our diaconates as well. It is a value that we treasure, a practice we try to embody. At the

same time, genuine Pentecost unity in diversity—unity in the Gospel in which no one person or

group is privileged, in which each person has an equal seat at the table—is often more a dream

to be realized than a present reality to be celebrated. Why? Because genuine Gospel unity in

diversity assumes a level playing field where every voice is equally heard and valued. Our

historical realities, social structures, and material conditions, however, have created and

continue to sustain a terribly uneven field.

Recently, a friend asked me why the Diakonia presentations can be heard only in English or

German. I replied that most all of the attendees will have some fluency in one of these

languages. While this is true and while it certainly would be impossible simultaneously to

translate each presentation into the primary language of each person here, the reality remains

that some of us will have a much easier time understanding what is being said than others will.

Historically, English and German were languages of missionaries to parts of Africa, Asia, Central

and South America. They also were languages of the colonizers who imposed their own

controlled unity upon the lands they illegally occupied, violating the dignity and rights of the

colonized, much as the builders of the tower of Babel sought to violate the dignity and rights of

God by breeching the boundary the Creator had set between the heavens and earth.

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All of us share, in different ways, in this heritage of colonization. Those among us whose

ancestors were among the colonized know full well that the playing field was and typically

remains uneven. Those among us whose ancestors were among the colonizers, unaware of the

privileges that whiteness of skin historically and structurally has conferred, often remain unable

to see that for the playing field to be truly even so that there can be genuine unity in diversity,

we need to first do our own work of repentance and repair. Only after we do that work can the

playing field potentially become even and each diverse group among us affirmed in its

uniqueness and given the equal place each deserves. Pentecost work is hard work.

While I was preparing this study, I received word that one of my deaconess sisters, Geri Plato,

had died after a long illness. Geri, who was consecrated in 1958, was the first African American

to join the community of which I am a part—the Valparaiso Lutheran Deaconess community.

Geri grew up in the United States during the era of segregation when African Americans were

kept “separate” from white Americans through a variety of insidious laws and customs. During

her college years at Valparaiso University—about 60 miles east of here—stores could and did

refuse to accept Geri’s business because of her skin color. But Geri persevered and eventually

became one of the matriarchs of our overwhelmingly white deaconess community. Our

community long has prioritized unity in diversity as one of our highest values. Yet, situated as

we are in the United States of America, a nation plagued by structural racism since its founding,

only last summer did we white sisters begin seriously to grapple together with the reality of

white privilege and its ongoing impact on us and on those among whom we serve. As African

American sisters gently have tried to tell us for decades, the playing field is not even. By

ignoring or denying this crucial factor, we who are white inadvertently perpetuate the very

oppressive structures we want to challenge in our commitment to unity in diversity. Again,

Pentecost work is hard work.

How about you where you live and serve? What are the issues with which you struggle in your

work for unity in diversity? Be it through racial, economic, political, or religious structures,

injustice exists whenever uneven playing fields continue to privilege some at the expense of

others. And this, I suggest, needs to be a crucial component in our interpretation of biblical

texts in these days of increasing global disparities in wealth and resources, of hostilities toward

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immigrants, and of nationalistic fervor promoting violent rhetoric against individuals and groups

different from the dominant group in any particular society.

In Genesis 11, by attempting to breech the boundary God set between the heavens and the

earth, a united humanity privileged itself against God, with no thought of consequences. The

effort did not work. In Acts 2, we encounter part of the diversity God created in response to

humanity’s ill-conceived unity. But note—when the Spirit comes, differences do not go away,

languages do not become the same. Instead, the one message of Jesus’ death and resurrection

gets translated into the individual languages of each person assembled in that crowd. Multiple

expressions of the Gospel among diverse peoples is affirmed, not bemoaned. When the playing

field is level, as it was in Jerusalem on that solemn occasion, unity in diversity becomes a reality.

The birth of the church is a blessing of multiple expressions of the Gospel, each formulated to

address the realities of the particular communities who hear the good news.

In interesting ways, Genesis 11 and Acts 2 highlight the unsettling nature of God’s in-breaking

presence in our world. Both stories begin with the participants in places of safety and comfort

—the citizens of Babel behind their city walls, and the disciples within the walls of a room. In

both accounts confusion is the initial reaction to God’s intervention. Confusion pushes the

citizens of Babel outside the safety of their walls into diverse lands with diverse languages—into

a new way of life they could have never dreamed possible. Shaken by God’s response to their

ill-conceived unity, their lives will never be the same.

Confusion pushes the crowd in Jerusalem outside the safety of their walls into the presence of

the disciples, from whom they hear good news with potential to propel them into a new way of

life. Shaken by the wind heralding the coming of the Spirit, their lives will never be the same.

Not everyone, of course, responds positively to the phenomenon of the disciples’ speaking in

many languages. Instead, some folk resist the notion of anything new happening, dismissing

the disciples as the kind of men who would get drunk even early in the day. Catherine and

Justo Gonzales suggest that the mockers’ resistance is symptomatic of people who think they

already are “in the know,” that they have possession of the truth and nothing left to learn. In

our time, perhaps the mockers might represent groups of Christians so bound by their doctrines

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and their traditions that they cannot hear voices crying out for alternate ways to articulate the

Gospel in order to address new and vastly changed situations. Whenever we are sure we have

the answers and have nothing to learn, we risk missing the leading of the Spirit’s wind because

it blows differently than we had expected and often in such unsettling ways.

Returning to the Acts 2 text, we hear Peter’s response to the crowd:

Acts 2:14-21 “Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd:

“People of Judea and all those living in Jerusalem, let this be known to you and listen to what I

say. These men are not drunk as you suppose, for it is only the third hour of the day, but this is

what was spoken through the prophet Joel: In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will

pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your

young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both

men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will

show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire and smoky

mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the

Lord’s great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be

saved.”

This is not the first time that a New Testament text cites a prophet’s words as now fulfilled. In

Luke, for example, Jesus cites Isaiah 63:1-3 in his inaugural sermon in his hometown synagogue,

adding to it “today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21). In Jesus’ life

and ministry, the day of salvation, justice, righteousness, and peace—shalom in its fullness—

has broken into our world……and the world will never be the same.

[note: Isaiah 63:1-3 will appear on a power point slide, but will not be read aloud.]

Speaking after Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension, Peter cites Joel’s proclamation of the

future day of salvation, expanding its focus in light of the Pentecost experience: shaken by the

wind of the Spirit, all people are invited to participate in the day of salvation now here among

us—all people, each in their own language and in the contexts of their own cultures. Diversity

is affirmed, not negated; the wind of the Spirit is free to blow where it will as Jesus’ followers

proclaim the Good News in ways appropriate to differing contexts.

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The age of salvation has broken in, but as we all know, it is not yet here in its fullness. Those of

us who are Lutherans, lovers of paradox that we are, refer to this reality as the “no longer/not

yet” paradox. No longer bound under the power of sin and death, but not yet living in the

fullness of salvation that will come when Jesus returns in glory, we follow Jesus by living the

Gospel message in the here and now. Taking up our crosses we follow Jesus’ example by

reaching out to the broken and outcast, challenging structures that hurt and harm any of God’s

creation, and working for justice and peace. Through it all, the wind of the Spirit keeps blowing,

shaking us out of our comfort zones into adventures we could not have dreamt possible. As we

deaconesses and deacons know all too well, this calling is not for the faint-hearted! For

strength along our way, we turn to the Letter to the Romans and to the Apostle Paul’s

description of what being shaken by the wind of the Spirit is all about.

Concerned that Gentiles who have come to faith in Jesus Christ might falter in their callings in

the no longer/not yet reality in which we live, Paul talks about the enduring work of the Spirit in

the lives of the faithful. His discussion culminates in Romans 8, where what he terms the

“Spirit/flesh” paradox concludes with a profound statement of the work of the Spirit in shaping

us and shaking us into the ministries to which we are called.

Romans 8:15-17: “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have

received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father! It is that very Spirit bearing witness

with our spirit that we are children of God and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint

heirs with Christ—if in fact we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”

By God’s grace, shaken by the wind of the Spirit, we have been given the spirit of adoption—

made children of God and joint heirs with Christ. This is our identity; this shapes us for the

service to which we are called. Trusting that we are who God declares us to be, we are

receptive to the Spirit’s empowering wind shaking us out of our comfort zones and equipping

us to look beyond ourselves to see the shape our ministries are called to take in these rapidly

changing times.

As Paul makes clear, acting on what we see and hear almost inevitably leads us into suffering.

Not that we seek suffering as if somehow it validates our call: rather, we go forth to serve

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knowing full well that whenever people of faith challenge institutions and structures that allow

or promote situations of oppression and injustice, suffering is likely to follow. In the no longer/

not yet time in which we live, we are no longer where we were, but not yet where we will be.

And so we cry out “Abba, Father—come and save.”

St Paul continues: “I consider that the suffering of this present time is not worth comparing

with the glory about to be revealed to us. For creation waits with eager longing for the

revealing of the children of God; for creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by

the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself will be set free from bondage to

decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole

creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we

ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the

redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For

who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with

patience” (Romans 8:18-22).

Our cries to God, our groaning in our service is matched by that of creation itself groaning

under the weight of global warming, the devastation of environments, the depleted ozone layer

and all the many other ecological crises inflicted on and infecting the beautiful world that God

has made and called good. Together with creation, we wait eagerly for the day when “not yet”

gives way to the fullness of the salvation of our God. Shaken by the wind of the Spirit, we are

given eyes to see the larger picture of what will be even as we struggle in the here and now.

Shaken by the wind of this larger picture, we gain hope and strength for patience—patience as

our willingness to keep plodding on even when we are tempted to give up overwhelmed by the

suffering around or within us. And there is more:

Romans 8: 26-27 “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray

as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words. And God, who

searches the heart, knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because the Spirit intercedes for the

saints according to the will of God.”

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When we cannot pray, the Spirit prays for us—what a gift, what a treasure! Little could the

disciples have imagined the power, protection, presence, and promise unleashed by coming of

the Spirit on that windy Pentecost day.

I was raised several states west and north of here near what for a long time was the second

largest earth-rolled dam in the world—the Garrison Dam of western North Dakota. The

purpose of the Dam was to construct a unified system to control of the flow of the great

Missouri River as it runs from north to south, basically turning the river into a unified well-

contained and controlled channels. To facilitate the building of this massive structure, natural

habitats were destroyed, ecological balances were upset, and numerous communities—mainly

of Native Americans—were forced to re-locate. When the Dam was completed early in my

childhood, the powers-that-be were certain that they now had the channeled river under their

control for perpetuity.

But, alas and alack, they forgot the power of the wind. North Dakota probably is one of the

windiest places on earth. For over 60 years now, the wind has been blowing against the massive

embankments walling in the water—and, over time it has been wearing away the rocks and

concrete that limited the water’s flow to its artificially constructed channels. The wind keeps ,

blowing—and one day, it will blow away the embankments meant to control and contain the

water, and the great Missouri River once again will flow free.

So it is with the wind of the Holy Spirit. Individuals, communities, corporate powers, and

nations can try to channel, contain and control the Spirit’s force by creating and maintaining

social structures that benefit the few at the expense of the many, but their efforts are doomed

to fail. The wind of the Spirit blows where it will and will keep blowing until the great day when

all human attempts to control and contain the lives of any of God’s beloved will fall and God will

bring all things to completion. Shaken by that wind, empowered and equipped by its force for

the new, unknown, sometimes nerve-wracking adventures on which we are sent, we are called

and privileged to do our part as servants particularly among the broken, the outsiders, and the

oppressed in our time and places, comforted and strengthened by Paul’s concluding words in

Romans 8:

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“What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? God who did

not withhold the only Son, but gave him up for all of us, will God not with him also give us

everything else?.....Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship or distress or

persecution or famine or nakedness or peril or sword?.....No in all these things we are more

than conquerors through God who loves us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor

angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus

our Lord.”

Shaken by the wind that no human power can channel, contain or control, with the wind of the

Spirit empowering and equipping us, sending us where it will, embracing and encouraging us

along our way, praying for us when words elude us, what can we say but thanks be to God for

this inexpressible gift.