A little while back I was watching some television show, and for some random plot reason or another one of the characters ended up in a monastery which was under a vow of silence. She was assigned to clean a wine vat with another resident, and there was a rather comical scene, because the vat was big enough that they were both inside it to clean it, but with a rounded “floor” to stand on, they kept falling and giggling, and the one who lived there showed our character how to strap rags to her feet which helped keep traction and stay upright. Eventually, they cleaned together in clearly companionable silence for quite some time, pointing out interesting things to each other wordlessly. Eventually, our character finds a slate or a piece of paper and wrote on it: My name is Jane. And the other wrote back: “Ik spreek alleen Nederlands” (I only speak Dutch).
It’s not quite the Pentecost story, and I have to wonder how the various members of the early church, come from all over the region to gather together after the ascension, felt, before the inrushing of wind, before the tongues of fire. When they were gathered, united by a faith in the One God, and in the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, but not able to communicate with each other. Did they stare? Did they invent some sign language like the two women cleaning the wine vat? Did they try to speak in their own languages, and did they laugh or get frustrated with the cacophony?
I wonder about this time, this time just before Pentecost, Jesus has said that he will be with them to the end of the age, that he will send the Holy Spirit, but this in between space must have been anxious. I believe that there’s something in there for us too. I’ve been told that I have an unusual communication style. I can certainly talk a lot, but I have been told by a mentor that the problem, and note he did say problem, with me is that I refuse to see things as they aren’t. Weird comment, right? When he said it, I realized that I just assumed that this was at least the goal of everyone’s communication, and it isn’t. And I started to spot the ways that it can be a problem for me. I can be so focused on the truth of a situation, that I forget to listen to the other person, or I can be so focused on the truth of a situation that I can’t hear another, more subtle truth that is not being directly expressed by the words being spoken. Ultimately, this can leave me in the same situation as being surrounded by people who speak different languages, but it’s in my own language!
And maybe that’s why the Holy Spirit allowed people to understand, but did not reverse the curse of Babel and make every language the same. Because, sabes que? When I am speaking a second language, I am actually sometimes a better communicator. I have to think more carefully about what I am saying, I have to choose from a smaller lexicon, and I have to listen more carefully to the other person. I have to be more aware of the non-verbal cues, and I have to be more patient with myself and with them. My father was raised in a convent, and the nuns would always say at school dances that you had to leave enough room between you and your dance partner for the Holy Spirit to dance. And so maybe that’s the lesson I learn when speaking a second language, one that I could bring into my everyday communication.
Maybe it’s what we need when talking to each other in general. Leave room for the Holy Spirit to dance in the distance between what I am saying and you are hearing. Leave room for the Holy Spirit to dance in the distance between what I am hearing and what you are saying. Even leave room for the Holy Spirit to dance in what I’m saying and what I mean to say. Or what I think I mean to say. Or what I think you are hearing. I could go on listing all the ways that we can get tangled up in our communication, but I think you get the point.
Next time that we are talking to someone, or listening to someone, and especially in a conversation of conflict, can we try to leave a more room for the Holy Spirit to dance? Can we try to listen more carefully, to speak more clearly, to be more patient with ourselves and with each other? Yes, my literal soul is always going to hear the literal meaning first, but with the help of the Holy Spirit, I can also try harder to hear the meaning behind the words, the meaning that is not being spoken.
And so, as we celebrate Pentecost, let us remember that the Holy Spirit is always with us, always willing to help us to communicate, to listen, and to understand each other. Let us leave room for the Holy Spirit to dance in our conversations, and may we be open to the ways that the Spirit can transform our communication, our relationships, and even our world. Amen.