The Softest Whir of Pentecost

Dear Friend,

By the time the angelus sounded from the bell tower, the crows had calmed down. They’d been raging for a good 15 minutes and I was sure that a fight had broken out, but as best as I could tell it was a war of shouting only, and what a ruckus! Lined up, dozens of them, along the red tiled crest of the roof over the long front portico…I thought they’d never shut up. 

“Peace be with you,” said Jesus to his disciples. Maybe the fear inside them at that moment had the same energy as the crows, except it was silent, throbbing without a sound. He showed them his hands and his side and in an instant, the Gospel tells us, they “rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” What an emotional turnaround! They were open now, to receive the gift.

In a poem entitled “Don’t Allow the Lucid Moment to Dissolve” the late Adam Zagajewski writes: “We haven’t risen yet to the level of ourselves/ Knowledge grows slowly like a wisdom tooth…” The disciples hadn’t risen yet, but maybe they were rising, glimpsing the extent of a vast new horizon, a nearly unbelievable possibility.  

Nearly. The church was being born and coming alive to the extent of God’s gift. And the backdrop was the sound of the clamoring crows - the “murder” of crows as such a group is called - giving voice to the chaos of our own current moment. The gift of peace and the moment of birth arrive with the flash of a wounded hand, like the chalk art image of the hummingbird - a gift from I Madonnari - sketched on the asphalt of the Mission plaza. It hovers, a defiant beauty! The softest whir of Pentecost!

Gratefully,

Fr. Dan ofm, Pastor