As many of you know, Pentecost is one of my favorite church holy days. Those who may not be familiar with liturgical traditions that include special Sundays may not have a clue what this day is about or why it matters, and there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I would suggest that our Old Testament lesson stands to remind us that anything that we set up as important might not be important to God.
Having said that, it may also have struck you as odd that God acted in the way God did in this passage from Genesis. Am I not always preaching unity? Why would God want to keep us from working together?
We’ll get to that in a minute, but first I want to acknowledge the movement of the Spirit of God in these two passages. Taken together, along with the contexts they are pulled from, what we see today is a movement from the problem of exclusion to the problem of inclusion.
At first glance, it seems that God, in Genesis 11, is the one who created the problem of exclusion. God created the divisions between us. God started the “othering” that led to tribalism, nationalism, and conflicting agendas between people groups by confusing our language and scattering us across the earth — at least that is what the text seems to say. Why would God do this?
The simple answer is, I’m not sure. I don’t think any of us can be. We can, however, look to the rest of scripture and find that the character of God is one of love, and we can look to other historical accounts and examples of this type of story and these events and find something deeper. One thing that we know is that this story was written centuries after the events they describe from an oral tradition that told stories to try to figure out why the world was the way it was. Another is that there are accounts of towers like these in the region that would later be known as Babylon — some of them made by cruel taskmasters in an attempt to build platforms to interface with heavenly beings that we now call stars.
From the text itself, we find that “the people” who are descendants of Noah are trying to “make a name for themselves.” In other words, they are trying to establish themselves independently from God. Some scholars have even described the tower as a siege tower with hopes of ascending to the throne above the dome that they believed was the sky. When we think of it that way and we see that they had the bricks and mortar that they made, as opposed to the stone and tar provided by God, we end up with a picture of people getting a little ahead of themselves in thinking that they do not need the providence of God.
With all of that in mind, it seems that what we have in this story is not simply a petulant God who scattered us to keep us down but a merciful God who scattered us in order to keep us from trying to control things that are beyond our reach. Likewise, we have a nice (albeit overly convenient) explanation for the differences between us that may not be rooted in fact but is certainly rooted in the reality that our conflicts arise from our desire to be in charge of things that may be beyond our reach.
One last thing to pull it all together is that the word “Babel” is usually something that means confusing speech or nonsense, but in origin, it actually means “the gate of God.” The people were standing at the gate of God with the intent of becoming as God (or at least those in power had that intent), so God confused their speech and scattered them throughout the earth.
Blame God if you want, but this story says that we created the problem of exclusion, the reality of the “other,” together. That’s what excites me so much about Pentecost! It’s a celebration of the fact that God flipped the script so that the problem was no longer one of exclusion but of inclusion!
Before we get into that, I should say that we who follow Jesus did not invent Pentecost. I suppose you could say that we appropriated it because the idea of celebrating God’s active presence 50 days (Penta) after the Passover was already in place with the Festival of Shavuot, which many of our Jewish siblings celebrated yesterday! Shavuot is a festival of harvest, and it is also a time to remember the giving of the law at Mount Sinai. It is a time to acknowledge and give thanks for the providence of God.
Acts 2 reminds us that it was at just such a festival that devout Jews from every tribe and nation were in Jerusalem, and they heard — each in their own native language — about the good news of God through the disciples! As the story continues, Peter tells them about the sacrificial love of God expressed through Jesus and 3,000 of them repent and believe and become baptized! Wow. What a great problem that would be!
What a great problem we still have if even one believes and repents and is baptized! Before I say more about how that might be a problem, I want to be clear about those words, “Repent and Believe”. We just finished a series on John’s Gospel, and now we are getting Luke’s perspective. Repent was the invitation given by John the baptizer before Jesus was baptized, and it meant “acknowledge God as the center of your life — the locus from which you make decisions.” Belief in Luke’s gospel was a recognition of Jesus as the one to initiate the jubilee of God from Isaiah 61 where debts are canceled and prisoners go free. To repent and believe means putting those things together in a way that demonstrates hope, provides for those in need, and glorifies God!
Baptism is, of course, a natural conclusion for repentance and belief, but it is also a way to acknowledge what God has done, is doing, and will do through us as we live into the hope that we discover through a life of faith. Of course, we baptize babies in our tradition because we believe that God is at work in our lives before we know it or think we need it. In baptism, we not only affirm what we believe but also what God believes about us — that we are beloved members of the house and family of God. While that only happens once (we do not re-baptize) we reaffirm our own baptism every time we consider God’s redemptive work in us and in the church.
This could certainly begin a larger conversation about communion as a continuation of the covenant of baptism, and I’m glad to have that conversation with you, but I want to return to the problem of inclusion. What I mean by that is that the reality of the gift of God’s Spirit on Pentecost is a barrier-breaking, comfort-shaking removal of the “otherness” that we like to keep between us.
According to @diffchurch, a content creator who has 1,570 followers on TikTok, “Jesus did not want to create an “in-group” that would banish others to an “out-group.” He wanted to create a “come on in-group,” where everyone is welcomed, celebrated, affirmed, loved, and [made to feel that they] belonged; or to put it another way, Jesus threatened people with inclusion. If people were to be excluded it would be because they refused to accept their own acceptance.”
What does that sound like to you? Is it just a bunch of confusing babel to say that the problem of acceptance is that we have to offer the same level of acceptance that we have received, or does that sound like an invitation to enter the gateway to God?
Either way, this table stands before you and proclaims acceptance for those who follow the way of Jesus. Either way, God’s love anticipates the need to continually invite all of humanity into deeper and deeper faith. The problem then becomes one of how to love one another more fully, and I would much rather have that problem than all of the anger and hatred that comes from the struggle for power that we see played out every day.
Rest assured that new towers are being built every day, but God’s desire is for our unity. The Spirit of God was made known to the world through Jesus and those that followed him, and today we experience it in this place and in every place that we demonstrate love and mercy and hope in a way that makes others say, “What must I do to receive the Holy Spirit of God?”
At the table of God, we repent. At the table of God, we recenter our lives. At the table of God, we believe that the Kingdom of God is both present and unfolding before us. At the table of God, we live into the baptismal covenant and we join the “come on in-group” because we are “welcomed, celebrated, affirmed, loved, and [made to feel that we] belong.”
The beautiful thing is that so are they, whoever “they” are, and the next movement of the Spirit is to create the problem of extending the same welcome that we have received — and thanks be to God for that. Amen.
Having said that, it may also have struck you as odd that God acted in the way God did in this passage from Genesis. Am I not always preaching unity? Why would God want to keep us from working together?
We’ll get to that in a minute, but first I want to acknowledge the movement of the Spirit of God in these two passages. Taken together, along with the contexts they are pulled from, what we see today is a movement from the problem of exclusion to the problem of inclusion.
At first glance, it seems that God, in Genesis 11, is the one who created the problem of exclusion. God created the divisions between us. God started the “othering” that led to tribalism, nationalism, and conflicting agendas between people groups by confusing our language and scattering us across the earth — at least that is what the text seems to say. Why would God do this?
The simple answer is, I’m not sure. I don’t think any of us can be. We can, however, look to the rest of scripture and find that the character of God is one of love, and we can look to other historical accounts and examples of this type of story and these events and find something deeper. One thing that we know is that this story was written centuries after the events they describe from an oral tradition that told stories to try to figure out why the world was the way it was. Another is that there are accounts of towers like these in the region that would later be known as Babylon — some of them made by cruel taskmasters in an attempt to build platforms to interface with heavenly beings that we now call stars.
From the text itself, we find that “the people” who are descendants of Noah are trying to “make a name for themselves.” In other words, they are trying to establish themselves independently from God. Some scholars have even described the tower as a siege tower with hopes of ascending to the throne above the dome that they believed was the sky. When we think of it that way and we see that they had the bricks and mortar that they made, as opposed to the stone and tar provided by God, we end up with a picture of people getting a little ahead of themselves in thinking that they do not need the providence of God.
With all of that in mind, it seems that what we have in this story is not simply a petulant God who scattered us to keep us down but a merciful God who scattered us in order to keep us from trying to control things that are beyond our reach. Likewise, we have a nice (albeit overly convenient) explanation for the differences between us that may not be rooted in fact but is certainly rooted in the reality that our conflicts arise from our desire to be in charge of things that may be beyond our reach.
One last thing to pull it all together is that the word “Babel” is usually something that means confusing speech or nonsense, but in origin, it actually means “the gate of God.” The people were standing at the gate of God with the intent of becoming as God (or at least those in power had that intent), so God confused their speech and scattered them throughout the earth.
Blame God if you want, but this story says that we created the problem of exclusion, the reality of the “other,” together. That’s what excites me so much about Pentecost! It’s a celebration of the fact that God flipped the script so that the problem was no longer one of exclusion but of inclusion!
Before we get into that, I should say that we who follow Jesus did not invent Pentecost. I suppose you could say that we appropriated it because the idea of celebrating God’s active presence 50 days (Penta) after the Passover was already in place with the Festival of Shavuot, which many of our Jewish siblings celebrated yesterday! Shavuot is a festival of harvest, and it is also a time to remember the giving of the law at Mount Sinai. It is a time to acknowledge and give thanks for the providence of God.
Acts 2 reminds us that it was at just such a festival that devout Jews from every tribe and nation were in Jerusalem, and they heard — each in their own native language — about the good news of God through the disciples! As the story continues, Peter tells them about the sacrificial love of God expressed through Jesus and 3,000 of them repent and believe and become baptized! Wow. What a great problem that would be!
What a great problem we still have if even one believes and repents and is baptized! Before I say more about how that might be a problem, I want to be clear about those words, “Repent and Believe”. We just finished a series on John’s Gospel, and now we are getting Luke’s perspective. Repent was the invitation given by John the baptizer before Jesus was baptized, and it meant “acknowledge God as the center of your life — the locus from which you make decisions.” Belief in Luke’s gospel was a recognition of Jesus as the one to initiate the jubilee of God from Isaiah 61 where debts are canceled and prisoners go free. To repent and believe means putting those things together in a way that demonstrates hope, provides for those in need, and glorifies God!
Baptism is, of course, a natural conclusion for repentance and belief, but it is also a way to acknowledge what God has done, is doing, and will do through us as we live into the hope that we discover through a life of faith. Of course, we baptize babies in our tradition because we believe that God is at work in our lives before we know it or think we need it. In baptism, we not only affirm what we believe but also what God believes about us — that we are beloved members of the house and family of God. While that only happens once (we do not re-baptize) we reaffirm our own baptism every time we consider God’s redemptive work in us and in the church.
This could certainly begin a larger conversation about communion as a continuation of the covenant of baptism, and I’m glad to have that conversation with you, but I want to return to the problem of inclusion. What I mean by that is that the reality of the gift of God’s Spirit on Pentecost is a barrier-breaking, comfort-shaking removal of the “otherness” that we like to keep between us.
According to @diffchurch, a content creator who has 1,570 followers on TikTok, “Jesus did not want to create an “in-group” that would banish others to an “out-group.” He wanted to create a “come on in-group,” where everyone is welcomed, celebrated, affirmed, loved, and [made to feel that they] belonged; or to put it another way, Jesus threatened people with inclusion. If people were to be excluded it would be because they refused to accept their own acceptance.”
What does that sound like to you? Is it just a bunch of confusing babel to say that the problem of acceptance is that we have to offer the same level of acceptance that we have received, or does that sound like an invitation to enter the gateway to God?
Either way, this table stands before you and proclaims acceptance for those who follow the way of Jesus. Either way, God’s love anticipates the need to continually invite all of humanity into deeper and deeper faith. The problem then becomes one of how to love one another more fully, and I would much rather have that problem than all of the anger and hatred that comes from the struggle for power that we see played out every day.
Rest assured that new towers are being built every day, but God’s desire is for our unity. The Spirit of God was made known to the world through Jesus and those that followed him, and today we experience it in this place and in every place that we demonstrate love and mercy and hope in a way that makes others say, “What must I do to receive the Holy Spirit of God?”
At the table of God, we repent. At the table of God, we recenter our lives. At the table of God, we believe that the Kingdom of God is both present and unfolding before us. At the table of God, we live into the baptismal covenant and we join the “come on in-group” because we are “welcomed, celebrated, affirmed, loved, and [made to feel that we] belong.”
The beautiful thing is that so are they, whoever “they” are, and the next movement of the Spirit is to create the problem of extending the same welcome that we have received — and thanks be to God for that. Amen.
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