Sermon Delivered at Church of the Good Shepherd
Fort Lee, New Jersey,
Pentecost, June 5, 2022, at 8:00 and 10:00 a.m.
By The Rev. Stephen Galleher
Breathe on Me,
Breath of God!
“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” (Acts 21:1-2)
“You hide your face, and they are terrified; * you take away their breath, and they die and return to their dust.” (Psalm 104:30)
“Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” (John 14:9-10)
Surely one of the top miracles of our lives (and there are more of them than we can count) is the first breath we take when we are born. To confess my ignorance, I thought the doctor or midwife hit the newborn on its backside to get the baby breathing; but no, it happens without human intervention, just like a magic trick, though I’m sure the scientists have a more detailed explanation.
That first breath that we all take: I was going to say, “It takes our breath away.” But that’s not a good metaphor! This first breath is, in fact, the breath of life. This event holds a major place at the beginning of our Scripture: Genesis chapter 2, verse 7: “God formed [us] out of dirt from the ground and blew into [our] nostrils the breath of life. [We] came alive—living souls!”
What is breath? Do you think you know? Do you think you can see it? We see it on a cold winter’s day, when our warm breath meets freezing air, but the breath itself is invisible—and it points to something truly spiritual. Look at your own breath! Or better, since you cannot see it, focus on your own breath. Where do you think it comes from? Did you put it there? Did you have anything to do with the breath of the person sitting next to you.
This mysterious thing, for I suggest it is a mystery: so common, so close, and yet so wild and unknown. That this breath of mine and yours points to God, invisible yet ever present, surrounding us, within us, the presence of our life itself. And we know how precious it is with those of us with asthma, COPD, emphysema or who have had bouts of bronchitis. Just as suddenly as it has been given us, our breath can be taken away.
It was there at the beginning of creation. God’s spirit. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and void, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.” (Genesis 1:1-5)
God’s breath is the spirit of creation. It is life itself. And we recognize this all around us.
As when we say, “This kid is full of spirit.” Or addressing him directly, “That’s the spirit!” Or, “What a spirited horse we have here!”
And on this day in the church year, Pentecost, also known as Whitsunday, we celebrate the Holy Spirit, Jesus’s parting gift of himself as the earthly pilgrimage of Jesus ends. It is announced like this: “And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.” (Acts 21:1-2)
What is “a mighty wind” but another word for breath? It’s no wonder that God is often shown in art as blowing, and his breath as a mighty wind.
Spirit, wind, breath: all manifestations of the life of God. And the gift of Pentecost is that all those folks from so many tribes and languages were all talking like crazy (you know like a bunch of women at a tea party (sorry, ladies!), or like a bunch of men at the local pub—lots of noise. And guess what, they understood one another. Because the sound of the wind was the language of love.
Don’t we know what this language is about? We hear it all the time when we hear a beautiful symphony orchestra. A symphony orchestra is full of wind instruments, not just the reeds (the clarinets, oboes, and bassoons) but also the brass instruments (the trumpets, trombones, and horns), all of which are propelled by (you said it!)—the breath. Wind! And everyone in the audience of whatever nationality understands what is played. Just like at Pentecost.
And so, we needn’t get confused or roll our eyes over the notion of “the Holy Spirit.” The word Holy Spirit as the so-called third person of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—can become too abstract, something we had to memorize in our catechism or hear sung about by a beautiful choir. Ok, but the Holy Spirit is much more concrete. Suppose there is absolutely no distinction between the spirit, the breath that you and I breathe and God’s spirit, God’s Holy Spirit?
My breath and your breath. Can you say that there is a distinction between them? It is our life, right? I know. I am breathing and you and breathing. But what is the difference between these breathings? Are they not the one life? Substitute the word “spirit” for life. My spirit is no different from the spirit of that person in Romania I have never met. Aren’t they in one sense the same spirit, the same life? And is this one life that we both share not divine? Let’s call it “holy.” Ah, ha! I’ve got us. I’ve got us caught in the divine life that we all share and that we all breathe together.
And if we want to take it even further? What about our pet dogs and cats? The animals at the zoo and in the forests and seas?
We get an illustration of the point I have been making when Philip questions Jesus in today’s Gospel reading. “Lord,” Philip scolds Jesus, “show us the father and we will be happy.” And Jesus rebukes Philip, “Have I been with you so long and you don’t get my drift? He who has seen me has seen the father.” Isn’t that something. Do you think that when you look in your friend’s eyes or in your lover’s eyes, or anyone else’s eyes, you are seeing God itself? What do you think?
And so, we breathe. Did you have anything to do with the breath that you are breathing? Do you have any control over the next breath you will take? Do you have any control over when you draw your last breath? All gift, all sheer gift. And this breathing that we have been doing for, lo, these many years: is it one bit distinct from the God who created and sustains us? The breath is our life, and this breath and this life is the life of God.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love the way you love,
and do what you would do.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure,
until my will is one with yours,
to do and to endure.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
so shall I never die,
but live with you the perfect life
for all eternity.
Amen.