Day of Pentecost, Year A | I Corinthians 12:3b-13
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
May 28, 2023
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
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A few weeks ago we talked about how the Bible isn’t really about you—at least, not you (or me) as an individual. The Bible generally speaks to us—you and I are included only because we fall within that broader group, even on Pentecost. Remembering that concept can help disrupt some of our more common self-focused or “what’s in it for me” type of thinking, guiding us to consider what might be of greater value for the whole of the Church or society rather than “me” as a particular human within the Church.
If we were reading it directly in the Bible, most of us would probably look at today’s Epistle as a sort of introduction for one of Paul’s famous “body” passages. Within two verses he’ll be well into telling us things like, “If the foot would say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,’ that would not make it any less a part of the body.”[1] That section tends to get a lot of attention throughout Modern American Christianity, with this portion generally lost in its shadow. However, I suspect we generally miss Paul’s main point about the body, largely because we forget to read it not only in light of the communal aspect of Christianity but especially in connection with what he just told us today.
Because of our inherent focus on individualism, we naturally read I Corinthians with a focus on self: which of these things is my spiritual gift? What part of the body might I be? Where exactly do I fit in the grand scheme of things? Is this a complete list of available gifts, or might I offer something totally original and unique? While it might be fun to try to figure those things out—and there are plenty of materials available that claim to help you do just that—that isn’t really where Paul has been trying to direct our attention. His focus here isn’t on the self but on unity. We, the Church, are the one body of Christ, animated—as a whole—by one breath.
It's been a while since we talked about it, but you might remember that the preferred translations for the Greek word pneuma are, in order of significance, “air,” “wind,” “breath,” and finally, if none of the others make sense, “spirit.” We tend to think of the words “soul” or “spirit” more or less as synonyms, both referring to the intangible essence of our being that fills our bodies with life. But when the Bible was written, they were neither as tightly connected to one another nor necessarily as noncorporeal as we consider them today. “Soul,”[2] in Jesus’ day, more or less referenced a particular person—the identity and personality of each of us as independent beings; the things that make you distinctively “you.” Although it’s impossible touch a personality, it clearly displays itself through the way any particular person interacts with reality. The “spirit,” on the other hand, was quite literally tangible—just place your hand in front of your mouth and breathe out. The air that blows against your palm and fingers—that’s pneuma. Pneuma is everywhere around us, yet pneuma is inside of us. When moisture levels and temperatures are right, you can even see it. The Ancient World connected that internal aspect of pneuma with whatever it is that animates a body. If it has breath going in and out, it’s alive. If it no longer breathes,[3] it isn’t. The soul—as individual personality—existed only so long as the breath remained flowing in and around the body.
Just like people have pneuma, within that worldview, God does too. And when the Bible refers to the Holy Spirit, that’s what we’re talking about: God’s own, personal Breath—the animating, life-empowering aspect of who God is, that from which all life derives and without which no life could be. It’s the living, flowing personality of God expressed through all the motion and activity found throughout Creation.
We frequently describe God’s Breath as “holy,” but that’s another word we need to make sure we’re defining the same way. Most theologians and pastors will tell you that “holy” is a description of something set aside or dedicated to God. During the Eucharist, when I say the blessing over the bread and wine those things become “holy” in that sense—“Gifts of God for the People of God.”[4] But just like pneuma has a few layers of connected meaning, so does the word for “holy.” The one that most directly applies when we’re talking about the Holy Spirit—God’s Sacred Breath—has less to do with something set apart in worship or reserved for use by an ordained individual and more to do with the effect that thing has on the world around it.
When we consider certain objects, we think in terms of whether they’re clean or dirty. If something dirty touches something that’s clean, like dropping a plate of Memorial Day cookout on the lawn, the clean objects (food) become dirty, making it difficult or impossible to use them again. We think of “holy” things the same way: they start as clean or pure, but if something somehow corrupts or dirties them, they become “defiled.” However, the deepest, most raw form of holiness—like that which comes directly from God—can’t be defiled. That’s because anything that touches something truly holy doesn’t spread its lesser, corrupt essence on- or into the holy thing; rather, the holy thing cleanses or purifies whatever makes contact with it.[5] But it isn’t that holiness simply absorbs the defilement or washes it off like dirt on your hands, leaving it somewhere it still might cause corruption. In a way, true holiness is very nearly infectious, entering that which nears or touches it and burning away anything that can’t bear the purity and goodness.
It's like fire under a cast iron pan. The pan absorbs the heat, but the fire itself doesn’t get any less hot. Left long enough and on a strong enough flame, the pan begins to glow with its own light. Eventually anything stuck to the pan—no matter how dirty it might have been or how long it’s crusted on the bottom—turns to ash and blows away. All that’s left is fire and heat and the conduit which, although still a pan, now also “cleanses” that which attempts to touch it.[6]
So it is with the Holy Spirit. God’s Breath, the base empowerment of life itself, behaves in the same way as the fire. When it enters or flows through a body, it doesn’t take on the sins or failures or mistakes that have been bound to that body, simply hiding them or brushing them off. It dissolves them, no matter what they may have been, and continues to purify and cleanse the body until it takes in and begins radiating “holiness” itself. That doesn’t necessarily mean scars from the past will completely disappear—a dent in the cast iron pan will remain there until it’s ultimately reforged. But even those scars or apparent blemishes will come to carry the same level of heat and holiness as the rest of the body.
This is what we can think of happening in the life of an individual who dedicates themself to God, but more than that—and more to the Bible’s point—this is what should be happening among us as a whole—throughout the Church itself. When we, as a body, are exposed to or come more and more into contact with God’s magnificent Breath, we take on more heat and energy. That energy doesn’t stay put, though; it spreads from person to person (or molecule to molecule), eventually raising the temperature of the whole group. Breathing the Spirit long enough, even the furthest reaches of the pan—those connected to the body but who might not be able to directly contact the fire—begin to feel the burn and bear the same energy.
That’s why we need each other and why any gifts God might give us are important—though not so we can flex our own pride or for the sake of our individual empowerment. The significance of any gift lies in how it allows us to connect with one another, encouraging and helping one another, “breathing” purity and holiness into one another’s lives—raising the heat of the whole, if you will. To be our best, to shine God’s light throughout Las Cruces, we need all of us working together—inside the church building and out. All of us breathing God’s Air. All of us absorbing God’s own dynamic Life and reality-changing Love. All of us reaching out to those around us—inside the church building and out. All of us a living, breathing whole. All of us empowered to love and serve. All of our actions radiating God’s Cleansing Breath throughout last every corner our world.
[1] I Corinthians 12:15 | All Bible quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted.
[2] Psuche
[3] Or never had breath in the first place
[4] 1979 Book of Common Prayer, page. 364
[5] Zechariah 14:20 talks about a time when everyday pots and pans and even the bells on a horse’s harness would be holy; this is one of that idea’s fulfilments.
[6] It’s possible to take the simile further, talking about how the iron that makes up the pan eventually begins to melt, offering itself to the flame in such a way that the iron and the flame become one.