Acts 2:1-11
1 Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13
John 20:19-23
It's so
funny how the Holy Spirit is at work in all our lives.
Usually
in a moment of weakness, our Creator reveals Himself to us through the Holy
Spirit and provides a beautiful life's lesson.
Christ
comes in amazing gift form to heal us from our broken human condition. And it all happens through the power of the
Holy Spirit that is breathed on us all at Baptism.
As my
favorite rock group U2 writes, “The Spirit… She moves in mysterious
ways.”
Why
“She?” From the Old Testament, Wisdom is
known as Sophia (Proverbs 8). We refer to her now as
the Holy Spirit. And the Holy Spirit has
guided the Mother Church throughout the centuries.
During
our formation, the Archdiocese’s lead theologian Fr. Mike Raschko said the
following: “The Holy Spirit is a
difficult topic to discuss because 'she' is very elusive. The Spirit
is the one person of the Trinity that doesn't have 'form' around her.
When we think about the Father, we
primarily think about the creator. We can relate to the Father as the maker of
the universe. When we think about the Son, we think about the person of the
Trinity that entered history to redeem us (Jesus). There is a human being with
a human story to look at. When we think about the Holy Spirit, there is nothing
to quickly grab onto.”
The
Apostles are experiencing their first Holy Spirit moment in today’s Gospel and
it transforms their lives forever.
They’re
in hiding, angry, worrying, freaked out, then Jesus walks through locked doors
and says, “Peace be with you,” breaths
the Holy Spirit upon them and everything changes.
Fear and
darkness are banished. Courage and
enthusiasm for the Gospel take their place. In that moment, Christ’s Church is created.
“The Spirit… She moves in mysterious
ways.”
I had a transformative
Holy Spirit experience a few years back while on a trip to Europe with my
family.
As you
know, on Friday, we commemorated the 70th Anniversary of
D-Day, the turning point to World War Two in Europe.
On a
cold, blustery and rainy day in December of 2011, our family traveled to
Normandy Beach.
We drove
a rental car from the beautiful French village of Bayeux. Needless to say,
driving in a foreign country where English is not the official language
provides challenges for most Americans. When you are an impatient driver like
me, the frustration gets magnified a hundredfold.
My son
Connor was the navigator for the trip due to his brilliance at reading maps, and
operating complicated GPS systems.
Unfortunately
he took the brunt of my frustration as we tried in vain to find the Normandy
American Cemetery. I was feeling lousy for letting my Irish temper get the best
of me while driving through the French countryside.
Late on
a dark dreary day, we finally found our destination. At first, I drove down to
Omaha beach to see where the U.S. troops landed. We spent a quiet moment
walking the beach as waves washed the shores where so many young men the ages
of our two sons had died on June 6, 1944.
On the
hillside above the beach were some German bunkers. While Sean and Connor were crawling
around these dens of death and destruction, I walked up the hillside alone and
noticed that the cemetery was just a little further up the path.
Saving
Private Ryan is a favorite movie. Like most people, I cry every time James
Francis Ryan walks through the cemetery as an old man filled with all those
painful memories.
As I
prepared for what I was about to experience, I prayed a decade of the rosary
for all those young lives cut short on that fateful and important day in our
history. I also prayed my family would forgive me for losing my cool while
driving there.
I was by
myself as the rows and rows of crosses appeared after rounding a corner. Emotions swelled. A tear ran down my cheek.
Just
then, a guy walked up and asked, "Are you an American?" I said, "Yes,"
and he introduced himself as "Andy" and started showing me around the
cemetery.
He told
me not all of the graves were for servicemen. Three women are buried at the
cemetery, mostly servicewomen nurses and Red Cross workers.
He asked
what I did. I told him I was in formation to become a deacon in the Catholic
Church. He then showed me the graves of four chaplains who died on the beach
that day. Andy said chaplains had one of
the most dangerous jobs in the Normandy invasion due to their low numbers and
high death rate.
I asked
Andy what he did at the Cemetery. He said nonchalantly, "I'm the
Director."
Just
then my family showed up. I introduced everyone to Dwight "Andy"
Anderson, Director of the Normandy American Cemetery.
Then he
showed us the graves of the brothers who inspired the movie Saving Private Ryan:
Preston and Robert Niland. He told us
the movie embellished some of the details, but basically got much of the story
right.
Two
brothers were killed during the invasion, one on Omaha beach, the other on Utah
beach. A third brother Edward was a prisoner of war in a Japanese camp in the
Pacific at the time of the Normandy invasion. The fourth brother Frederick
"Fritz" Niland eventually was returned home. He's the one the movie
was about.
After
spending a long time showing us the outdoor stone chapel and other important
grave markers, he asked our family if we would join a few other Americans on site
that day to take down the American Flag for the night. We said, "We'd be
honored."
My wife Mary
offered to video the experience on my iPhone. Oldest son Sean took photographs.
Connor and I joined the ranks as the lowering of colors service began.
As the
flag touched our fingers and we began to fold it, the skies opened up in a
torrential downpour. It was almost as if heaven was sending down tears on this
solemn moment.
Just as
the rain soaked us on that cold December day, the Holy Spirit is drenching the
disciples at the feast of Pentecost, pouring over them and changing them
forever.
“The
Spirit… She moves in mysterious ways.”
The
quiet whisper of God in our special moment plays loudly and clearly in my mind
now: When you're lost, when you’re
frustrated, when you’re angry, when you’re freaked out, trust in God, and God
alone, to get you through it. Allow the Holy Spirit to pour down on you and
everything will be alright.
My
exasperation with driving, getting lost, backtracking, double-backtracking, was
all part of God's plan to make sure our family experienced something remarkable
at Normandy.
Had we not
gotten lost, we would have never received a beautiful gift from God. We would have missed a divine moment when
heaven and earth intersected, but for a brief moment.
Jesus
reminds his disciples this weekend his peace is with them always. Trust Christ’s peace in your life.
As we
experience Pentecost, I encourage you to let the Holy Spirit soak you with
Christ’s goodness. Let it permeate your
very being. Let is transform you in ways
that will heal your troubled soul.
Allow the
Spirit to move in mysterious ways in your life.
May the
peace of Pentecost be with you always.
