"The church is on fire!"
One Saturday night, when I was a boy, I was wakened
by my mother's voice calling that out:
"The church is on fire!'

Frightened, I leaped from bed and raced to the window
from which I could see the church that I loved,
the church of which my father was the pastor,
the Irving Park Presbyterian Church in Chicago, Illinois.

[Inhale]  Uhhhhhhhh!  Sure enough!
Through the frosted panes of the sanctuary windows,
I could see flickering tongues of fire that seemed to be dancing
where I knew the pulpit and choir loft to be.

As I was looking, I heard the voice of my father coming up from below,
through the hot air register in the floor boards of my room—
the voice of my father pleading into the telephone:
"There's a fire in our church, 4053 N. Keeler Avenue.
Please!!  Come quickly!!!"

Panic filled my heart, and tears, my eyes.
I dashed downstairs, raced to my mother,
and clung to her for dear life—
as my father sprinted out the door
to unlock the church and meet the firefighters.

Soon, the blessed sound of sirens grew louder and louder, and
one, two, and finally three trucks screeched to a halt outside
and firemen sprang into action.

As church fires go, ours was not as bad as it could have been.
I heard the lieutenant tell my father
that he'd called it in just in time.
And I heard my mother say it must have been the Holy Spirit
that led her to go outside onto the back porch just when
she did,  so she'd spot the flicker of flames next door.

Our church on fire—a disaster, though, providentially, a minor one.

In the more recent past, just 11 days ago, on a Wednesday night,
there was a very different kind of fiery happening.
It occurred in Madison Square Garden,
Game 3 of the New York Knicks vs. the Miami Heat,
the night of a glorious Knicks playoff victory,
the night of the 32 to 2 run that saw the Knicks move
from 4 points down with 4:19 left in the 2nd quarter
to 26 points up with 5:00 left in the 3rd quarter.

In the next day's New York Times (5/13/99, p. D1),
reporter Selena Roberts offered this description of an arena on fire:
"It was as if Latrell Sprewell threw a match down on the court
just before the half and
a surreal flame spread throughout the building last night.
By the third quarter, the crowd looked  on fire
as the fans twirled their orange towels over their heads
like helicopter blades and nearly lifted
Madison Square Garden off its foundation."

The Garden, the Knicks, the crowd—all "on fire."
And, far from being a disaster, how glorious it was!

Yes, "on fire" can mean "being burned down and destroyed,"
a cause for panic and dismay.
But "on fire" can also mean "ablaze with high-intensity energy,"
"aflame with excitement, enthusiasm, ardor, and zeal,"
a cause for joy and celebration.

On the Day of Pentecost described in this morning's Second Lesson,
Jesus's first followers were set "on fire" by the Holy Spirit.
And they became a church "on fire,"
a group ablaze with energy, aflame with excitement.

The church of Christ began in a passionate blaze of the Spirit.
The consuming fervor of the disciples ignited everyone
who encountered them
and energized the spread of the Gospel throughout the world.

I believe that that same passionate blaze of the Spirit
is available to us here today at the Rutgers Presbyterian Church.

On this Day of Pentecost, we need only to pray, "O Lord,
help us to catch some of the flame that Your first followers had!
Help us to become a church 'on fire.'"

If we pray like that, who knows, we might even wake up tomorrow
and read this paragraph in the Times:
"It was as if the Holy Spirit threw a match down in the sanctuary
in the middle of the service
and a surreal flame spread throughout the church yesterday.
By the end of the sermon, the crowd looked  on fire as they
twirled their red, flame-colored towels over their heads
+ nearly lifted the Rutgers Church off its foundation."

Red towels—the color of flame, the color of Pentecost.  Well,
I wasn't able to arrange for us to have red towels this morning!
The closest I could come was these
flaming red bulletin covers that we can wave around!
(wave it!)  Oh yes, and please take a look at those covers.

The artwork reproduced here is Oscar Howe's painting "Ghost Dance."
In the late 19th century, on the plains of the North American West,
Indian ghost dancers were moved by visions and spiritual hope
to dance for the restoration of their land and of the buffalo.
Here, Howe's abstract depiction renders the ghost dancers' char-
acteristic red garments as flames of passion + consummation.

In today's differing cultural and spiritual context,
as we stand on the verge of the 21st century,
I see in this painting a powerful depiction
of the uncontainable flames of the Holy Spirit,
flames that burst out to release us—Spirit-filled—into
an ongoing dance of ministry and service in the world.

The story of the biblical Day of Pentecost is so dramatic
that it can create the impression that the gift to the church
of the fire of the Spirit was a one-time-only event way back when.
But the gifts bestowed on the church by the flame of the Spirit
are in fact ongoing and continuous, various and diverse.

So, even at this far remove from the first Day of Pentecost, we, too,
have every reason to hope that the Spirit will come upon us—
to offer us individually a distinctive gift of flame
and to offer us collectively a veritable dance of flames,
releasing us—Spirit-filled—
to the ministry of furthering Christ's service in the world.

Perhaps the Spirit wants today to ignite within you
a flame to help children grow into goodness,
possibly a flame to teach here next fall in our Sunday School,
or to assist us next year in our scouting program.

Perhaps the Spirit wants today to kindle within you
a fire to feed the hungry, possibly
a fire to help next fall with our Friday Night meal program
or to support today's Bread for the World offering of letters.

Perhaps the Spirit wants today to spark within you
a desire to help the homeless,
possibly a desire to support our weekend shelter program next fall,
or to become an advocate in our city for developing more SRO's.

Perhaps the Spirit wants today to fuel within you
a passion for doing justice,
possibly a passion for one of our Peace + Social Justice ministries,
like the West Siders Together's Brandeis High School project, or
the United Farm Workers' campaign for strawberry workers.

Perhaps the Spirit wants today to stir up within you
an eagerness to participate in the leadership of worship,
possibly an eagerness to serve as a layreader, usher, or greeter.

Or perhaps the Spirit wants today to ignite within you
a flame for some other form of service and ministry
that's quite different from anything I've yet mentioned.

But I know that there is a particular tongue of the Spirit's fire
that wants to touch you this Pentecost,
a particular gift of the Spirit that God's directing to you today—
a flame of call and of energy that you will experience   
by opening yourself to God in song and prayer,
by opening yourself now to the coming of the Spirit,
the Spirit that's promised to us for Pentecost.

I invite you to join me now in a period of singing and praying
for the coming of the Spirit that we may become a church "on fire."

Please take your hymnal and turn to #322, Spirit of the Living God.
#322.  Let's sing it through once.  Marshall, please, a chord:

Congregation sings while BES conducts.

You see the words of this hymn are really quite simple;
you only have to remember two lines:
"Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me," (repeat)
and "Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me." (repeat)
So you can now put your hymnal back in the rack.

Another thing we need to work on—to help us receive the Spirit—
is our posture.
We need to be open—not folded, closed, hunched over, but open!
So knees apart, feet on the floor, shoulders back, chin up,
arms outward or even upward, and eyes inward (closed)—
can you feel how much more open and receptive you are
in this position? 

Now, we're about to spend five minutes singing the prayer we've
learned, singing it in this open and welcoming posture—
our prayer that the flame of the Spirit of the living God
may indeed fall afresh on each of us today, that it
may indeed melt, and mold, and fill, and use each of us.

And as you pray, feel and experience in the depths of your heart
the call and gift for ministry that the Spirit is giving you today—
so that we may truly become a church "on fire" with the Spirit.

In the narthex on your way out, you'll find tables with some sheets,
sheets on which I invite you to put your name and phone number,
sheets on which you can ask me, as a follow up, to discuss
with you on the phone the gift and the call you feel today,
perhaps the gift and call to help children—there's a sheet,
or feed the hungry, or shelter the homeless,
or do justice, or lead worship,
or something else that's wonderful and Spirit-given.

So now check your posture,  and turn your eyes inward, and let's
sing that prayer of ours asking the flame of the Spirit to fill us.

(Marshall, play #322 through 5 times [4x words, 1x humming]
with gradually increasing intensity.)

 

["Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me. (2x)
Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.
Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me."]

[at the fifth time] "Just humming"

[after 5th time, period of silence, then:]

Exuberant Spirit of God,
bursting with the brightness of flame
into the coldness of our lives
to warm us with a passion for justice and beauty,
we praise you.

Exuberant Spirit of God,
sweeping us out of the dusty corners of our apathy
to breathe vitality into our struggles for change,
we praise you.

Exuberant Spirit of God,
speaking words that leap over barriers of mistrust
to convey messages of truth and new understanding,
we praise you.

Exuberant Spirit of God,
flame
wind
speech,
burn, breathe, speak in us;
fill your world with justice and with joy.  Amen.

(a prayer by Jan Berry)