Rev. Pamela Dolan
Pentecost Sermon
“Gifts of the Spirit”
May 19, 2024
“Madainn mhath, a chairdean!” Or, to say that again in plain old American English, “Good morning, friends!”
That is now the second time this morning that you’ve heard me at least try to say a few words in Scottish Gaelic, a language that I have been studying on Duolingo for about a year now and with which I am making very little headway. I can name a few farm animals–I especially like “tunnag,” which means duck and, of course, “gobhar,” which means goat–and I can order a whiskey, but I’m not sure that’s the basis of a very productive or meaningful conversation. The whole process of trying to learn Scottish Gaelic has been an ongoing lesson in humility for me.
My initial impulse to study Gaidhlig came about when I was preparing for my sabbatical and our family trip to Scotland. Now, if we’d been going to a country where the primary language was something other than English, then studying that language would have been a practical thing to do. I brushed up on Italian before we went to Rome, and French before a trip to Provence.
But, as my family was quick to point out, everyone in Scotland speaks English! I knew this to be true from having lived in St. Andrews for a year during college, but I did a little research anyway, and it turns out that over 90% of households in Scotland consider English their first or only language and (not to put too fine a point on it) in a recent census more households claimed Polish or Chinese as their mother tongue than Scottish Gaelic. Unless you head to the Outer Hebrides or one of the other remote parts of the Highlands, you’re unlikely to even hear it spoken in any sort of communal fashion at all.
So, why did I persist in studying it?
All I can say is, I wanted this trip to be more than a vacation. I was going on pilgrimage, and I thought that adopting a stance of unknowing, of wonder, of beginner’s mind, was going to be important for my inner journey, as well as my outer one. I wanted to understand the history and the culture of the land—and language, even an endangered, rarely-spoken language, is always a deep connection point to history and culture. I found this assertion from the United Nations helpful. They write, “Indigenous languages are not only methods of communication, but also extensive and complex systems of knowledge that have developed over millennia. They are central to the identity of indigenous peoples, the preservation of their cultures, worldviews and visions and an expression of self-determination. When indigenous languages are under threat, so too are indigenous peoples themselves.”[1]
Scottish Gaelic is one of many, many languages that has been pushed nearly to extinction by the forces of colonization and globalization. In a story with parallels to our own country’s history, Gaelic was legally banned as the English took over the country, and even sometimes violently suppressed. It took courage, commitment, and resilience for the Scottish people to keep it alive, along with the traditional culture it represents.
The story of the first Pentecost has taken on deeper meaning for me as I’ve found myself thinking more about what it means to speak a new language, recognizing that it communicates not just simple meaning but complex systems of knowledge, identity, and self-determination. It cannot be an insignificant thing that the first gift of the Holy Spirit was the gift of language. The disciples, as far as we know, were all speakers of Aramaic, the language of Jesus (which, by the way, is another endangered language today[2]). Some of them may have had some familiarity with other languages, but showing off a second language is not what is happening in this passage from Acts. Let’s be clear: the disciples have not been taking classes on Duolingo! When they begin to speak in other languages, it is entirely “as the Spirit gave them [the] ability” to do so.
By receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit, the disciples can reach new people, people from every nation under heaven, people that even Jesus did not touch in his earthly life. That’s what Pentecost is all about–the Spirit empowering followers of Jesus to do more together than we could ever do on our own, no matter how faithful and hardworking we might be. When we talk about the Church “meeting people where they are,” this is our first and most glorious example. It’s part of what turns an assortment of friends and strangers, in groups and outgroups, into the single community we call Church.
Language matters, because language is how we reach people, touch people, but also because it is how we learn from other people. Attempting to speak someone else’s language is a sign of deep respect, and it requires both humility and courage. When I was a little girl we lived on an island where none of the other children spoke English. Somehow my brother and I managed to play with these kids, and they with us, day after day, without ever understanding each other’s language. But I think that’s in large part because we were children. We were curious and unafraid of new things; we weren’t so worried about looking foolish or inept. That playfulness, that curiosity, is a gift that the church needs to recapture if we want to truly engage with the world around us and share the good news with more people. When we are learning new languages, whether literally or metaphorically, we are showing that we care and that we are willing to step out of our comfort zones. Our speech may be halting and imperfect, but it is our curiosity and humility, as well as our courage, that will reach people and help us connect in a mutual and respectful way.
The other thing that I take away from the Pentecost narrative this morning is how important it is to tell stories. Peter had a story to tell, a stirring story about men and women, young and old, seeing visions and dreaming dreams. The Church today has great stories to tell, also, stories that we need to learn to share, first with each other and then with the wider world. Today our walls are literally lined with these stories–stories of courage from around the Diocese, stories of communities of faith that are finding ways to reach out using new methods, new ideas, and sometimes new languages, to build up the Beloved Community and to care for God’s beautiful creation.
We are part of that story. You are part of that story. I hope you will take the time to read these particular stories of courage and be inspired, so that we can continue to dream our own dreams, dreams given to us by the Holy Spirit, and bring those dreams to life. And then write down the prayers that the Spirit whispers in your heart or shouts in your veins, and be prepared for something real and tangible to be asked of you and of all of us.
Pastor Steve Garnaas-Holmes has written a beautiful reflection about Pentecost that captures many of these same themes. He says that on this feast day,
“We embrace diversity, and learn to listen to each other,
to see from another’s perspective,
to give voice to a life other than our own,
to make central a language that’s not our own,
to communicate grace that’s not on our own terms. […]
On that Pentecost day I don’t imagine they were eloquent.
They spoke in halting Phrygian, mangled Mesopotamian.
It probably took some back-and-forth, some double-checking.
It required not just proclaiming but listening, relating,
and patience on the part of the hearers,
and courage and humility on the part of the speakers—
willingness to be beginners, to risk, to appear foolish,
to forgo the safety of being in the dominant group.
Pray for such humility and courage, to risk for the sake of love,
to be foolish for the sake of relating,
to let other people’s reality be real.
In such loving, the Holy Spirit will speak, loud and clear.”[3] That’s the spirit of Pentecost—to risk for the sake of love and be foolish for the sake of relating. Pentecost is our annual reminder that what we did yesterday is over and today is not the day for longing, regret, or nostalgia. God is always and forever singing a new song, breathing a new creation into being. Be of good cheer, my friends. Slainte mhath, a chairdean. Amen.
[1] The report continues, “The threat is the direct consequence of colonialism and colonial practices that resulted in the decimation of indigenous peoples, their cultures and languages. Through policies of assimilation, dispossession of lands, discriminatory laws and actions, indigenous languages in all regions face the threat of extinction. This is further exacerbated by globalization and the rise of a small number of culturally dominant languages. Increasingly, languages are no longer transmitted by parents to their children.”https://www.un.org/development/desa/indigenouspeoples/wp-content/uploads/sites/19/2018/04/Indigenous-Languages.pdf
[2]https://www.amesall.rutgers.edu/languages/125-aramaic#:~:text=The%20earliest%20attested%20inscriptions%20in,although%20it%20is%20severely%20endangered.
