PENTECOST AND FIRE AWARENESS
One of humankind’s first and greatest achievements was mastering fire, learning to control and harness potentially destructive power for human good. Almost all the technological innovations upon which our lives depend rely on the mastery of fire. When we turn on our ovens, we are relying on human technology for controlling and using fire for our benefit. When we turn on our bedroom lights, the chain of connections runs eventually back to a coal- or gas-fired power plant somewhere beyond our awareness. Tamed fire is a blessing to human society. Wildfires, on the other hand, are dangerous and even life-threatening. The distance between warming our hands at a backyard campfire and the turkey fryer burning down our garage is a matter of just a few degrees and inches.
This Sunday is Pentecost when we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit to the church, empowering us for mission, witness, and service in the world. Sometimes worshippers wear red on Pentecost as reminders of the “tongues of fire” that descended on believers gathered in the upper room who were waiting to be “clothed with power from on high.”
“Fire awareness” in the bible is not just limited to Pentecost, however. References to fire run like a bright thread from Genesis to Revelation. In the first chapters of Genesis, an angel with a flaming sword stands guard at the gates of Eden. In Exodus, Moses encounters a bush aflame with tongues of fire yet mysteriously the bush is not consumed. (Exodus 3:2) Later, the fleeing Israelites are guided by a pillar of fire; and Moses says of this fiery pillar that it guides the people “as a parent carries their child” (Deut. 1:31-32). Then, in the very last book of the bible, John the Seer describes Jesus as having “eyes like flames of fire.” (Rev. 4:5 & 1:14).
Sunday by Sunday we actually light a small fire in our sanctuary. Without much ceremony or notice, someone approaches the altar or table beneath the organ pipes and lights two tall candles. Those two small flames invite us to remember that we, like Moses before the burning bush, are on holy ground as we gather for worship. Those tiny flames of fire on our altar table every Sunday remind us of the tongues of fire that fell at Pentecost on the first believers and that still fall on us, calling us to be faithful witnesses and servants of God in the world.
Moses in Deuteronomy describes the pillar of fire that guided the wandering tribes of Israel as “a parent carrying their child.” When we come to worship feeling lost or in distress, those two small flames on our altar or table can brighten our spirits, reminding us that when we feel lost or uncertain One greater than ourselves stands with us and carries us when we are weak or weary.
In the premodern world, most homes had a central, open hearth where food was cooked and the house warmed. One nightly task was to “smoore the fire.” Usually the woman of the household prepared the coals in the hearth for the night by spreading them out in a circle and then sprinkling some ashes on top of them to slow their burning. Then a prayer was said. The next morning fresh peat would be added and the embers flared up into the day’s new fire. This ritual could keep a fire alive for years, sometimes for generations. In some parts of Ireland and Scotland it was common practice for a daughter who married to receive from her mother the gift of embers from the family hearth to take with her to start the hearth fire in her new home.
When the fire was smoored, it could look as if it had gone out; but the next morning it could come roaring back to life. It’s a good image for our lives. “I’ve lost my spark,” someone recently said to me, “and everything feels hard.” People occasionally say, “The trail I’d hoped to follow in life has ‘gone cold.’” Have you ever felt you just had to do something because that project or idea “lights a fire in my belly?” Those two small flames we light each Sunday prompt us to recall how a fire’s embers, no matter how cold they seen, can with a bit of attention, gentleness, and care burst back into warmth and light. The fire of the human heart is never completely extinguished. No matter how low it burns within us, the winds of the Spirit can blow across our hearts and fan them back into life.
Lit candles can be symbols of our heart’s deepest desires. Seeing them there on the altar or table is thus an invitation to bring our heart’s deepest desires into our silence and song, our prayer and meditation. This Sunday we’ll celebrate that first Pentecost when the Spirit descended like “tongues of fire.” Sometime during the service, I invite you to glance at those two candles on our altar or table. Let them remind you to bring your heart’s deepest desires to God in prayer and worship. Pray for the Spirit to blow where it wills in your life and to fan back into bright flames whatever is your heart’s deepest desire.
Blessings,
Pastor Thomas