What a wonder it would be, what a breeze of life, what a fire of zeal, if differences in the church were marked by these gifts of Pentecost. In the Letter to the Galatians ( Gal 5:19-23) we read that, as opposed to sexual indulgence, idolatry, wrangling, jealousy, ill-temper, disagreements, factions, envy, and orgy, “what this Spirit brings is different: love, joy, peace, trustfulness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, patience, and self-control.” It transforms labor as well as the human heart. It permeates deep intelligence as well as high feeling. It is the Spirit, as the great hymn “Veni Sancte Spiritus” recalls, which inhabits the heart of the poor as well as the solitary.
This is the Spirit that Jesus, in John’s Gospel, breathes in a moment of peace, igniting discipleship. It was so strong a confirmation of faith in Jesus that believers could speak in a way that was not only united but was universally understood. This is the Spirit that on Pentecost filled the disciples. “Jesus is Lord,” is their fundamental message, announced by those who drink of the same Spirit. But to be one body, they must have one Spirit and speak with one voice. The diversity of the members makes them a body.
The variety of talents and works, whether of Jew or Greek, slave or free, serves the common good. One might wonder, for example, whether some of the sharp quarrels between liberal and conservative, right and left, traditionalist and reformist are more a function of particularism and resentment than they are expressions of profound faith.Īre there not gifts of conservatives that liberals miss? Isn’t there a ministry the liberal gives us that the conservative does not? Do not traditionalists as well as innovators have a charism? Don’t contemplatives, social activists, Catholic Workers, and urban families all embody our faith in ways both necessary and complementary? These examples, of course, are just caricatures but they do suggest attitudes that stir hostility and division in the church. Why didn’t she challenge the unjust political and economic structures?) Even that Mother Teresa, she only did band-aid work, anyway. Why do they care only about the poor-and not the rest of us? At least they could take better care of their own kin. Has there ever been a time when we did not secretly desire to be like them? But this desire, too, sometimes sours and the example of “do-gooders” feels more like a rebuke than an inspiration. Surely those who have devoted their lives to the corporal works of mercy win the respect of us all. After all, we can’t hope for heaven on earth. (These people ought to get their own act together instead of trying to change the world. In our worse moments, however, we wish they wouldn’t bother us or remind us that the gospels challenge our way of life. Many of us, in our better moments, admire Christian social activists-people who hunger, thirst, and labor for justice. They usually are the ones who don’t care about peace and justice, as long as they are having a good time.) (They’re nothing but enthusiasts, extroverts with slick surface and little depth. How do those people manage to be so outgoing and open? The same hints of our inferiority, however, set us on the way to envy and then resentment. Then again, others of us wish we had the charism of community: family, relationships, friends, parties, gatherings. What a gift to speak the language of such love.
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