May 19 | Day of Pentecost, Year B
Acts 2:1-21 or Ezek. 37:1-14
Ps. 104:25-35, 37
Rom. 8:22-27 or Acts 2:1-21
John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15
Having witnessed on several occasions the death of a parishioner and on two others the death of a loved one, I know whereof the psalmist speaks: “you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust” (Ps. 104:30). The breath is taken slowly and furtively as the body fights to live while weakening and falling into the abyss of death. Faith, indeed, says that death is not the end, and yet death feels like an end, the end of something, the end of someone, the end of life and hope.
We must all at some time feel this: “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely” (Ezek. 37:11). In a time of captivity and crisis, long ago, the whole house of Israel believed itself trapped by the specter of death. The prophet Ezekiel says, “The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry” (Ezek. 37:1-2).
All hope is lost. We have no strength within ourselves to help ourselves. Human help is of no avail. Where is God, and what will he do? In the valley of the shadow of death, there is a divine presence at work, doing precisely this: “You send forth your Spirit, and they are created; and so you renew the face of the earth” (Ps. 104:31). Ezekiel gives an archetypal vision: “So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them” (Ezek. 37:7-8). And yet there was no life, for life is in the breath. God does not stop with a lifeless image of a human being. “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live” (Ezek. 37:9). Incredibly, the dead come to life. “The breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude” (Ezek. 37:10).
We see death for what it is. Is not life, at times, a living death? Do we not carry within ourselves the wounds of Christ? Still, the Spirit moves over the face of our frail existence. The Spirit fills “the whole house,” bringing new life to everyone, everywhere. The Spirit is the Catholic breath of God shed abroad throughout the world. The Spirit is no less a personal and private gift, resting like tongues of fire upon each of the disciples. The Spirit conveys a deep knowledge of God through visions and dreams. “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams” (Acts 2:17). The Spirit, Jesus promises, “will guide you into all truth” (John 16:13).
“All we go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia” (Burial, Rite I). Our song is “Alleluia” because we have been raised by the Spirit of God, given new visions and new dreams that will guide us into all truth, now and evermore.
Look It Up: John 15:7
Think About It: It is to our advantage that the Spirit comes.