The Day Of Pentecost
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VII, Cycle C
Object:
Theme For The Day
The miracle of Pentecost is not so much as miracle of speaking, as of listening.
First Lesson
Acts 2:1-21
The Day Of Pentecost
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. This, of course, is the classic Pentecost story: the disciples gathered in fear, the sound of a rushing wind, tongues of fire, and a babble of languages -- as the disciples are empowered to bring the gospel to the ends of the earth. In Luke's understanding, the languages spoken are intelligible human tongues, not the ecstatic tongues of 1 Corinthians 14. The purpose of the Spirit's gift is to enable the spread of the good news. The "devout Jews from every nation under heaven" of verse 4 is the result of the diaspora that has spread Judaism across the Mediterranean world, and even to points east. That widespread dispersion of an ethnic minority, creating a core of people in the middle of many larger cultures who were familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures, provided rich soil for the spread of Christianity. Judaism flourished, as flowers thrive in urban window boxes. When the seeds of Christianity, riding the wind of the Holy Spirit, happened by, the earth had already been prepared. The latter section of this passage (vv. 14-21) relates Peter's sermon to the astonished crowd. Grounding his remarks in Joel 2:28-32, Peter interprets these remarkable events as the work of the Holy Spirit.
Alternate First Lesson
Genesis 11:1-9
The Tower Of Babel
Picking up on the theme of the diversity of languages present in the Pentecost narrative, the lectionary editors have chosen this patriarchal fable from Genesis, which explains the diversity of human languages as the consequence of sin. The particular sin involved is pride -- as expressed in the desire to build a tower to reach God. For the exilic era readers of the final edition of this book, the Babel tower would have called to mind a Babylonian ziggurat. In Akkadian, the language of Babylon, "Babel" means "the gate of God." This folk tale, whose origins are likely much earlier than the exile, was likely modified in such a way that the Babylonians come out in a derogatory light -- although the sin of pride is, sadly, universal in human cultures.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 8:14-17
The Spirit Of Adoption
In this concluding section of a larger argument in which Paul has been outlining the differences between life "according to the flesh" and life "according to the spirit," the apostle moves on to introduce the idea of adoption. Through the Holy Spirit, those who follow Jesus Christ are adopted as God's children (vv. 14-15). Along with that adoption comes an inheritance; Christians are, in fact, "joint heirs with Christ" (v. 17a). As with any inheritance, there is an element of waiting, for now, it is but a promise. It is also an inheritance that has some ambiguity to it, for it includes both suffering and glory (v. 17b).
Alternate New Testament Lesson
Acts 2:1-21
The Day Of Pentecost
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. (See First Lesson, above.)
The Gospel
John 14:8-17 (25-27)
The Spirit Of Truth
Philip voices the universal question of human spiritual aspiration: "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied" (v. 8). Jesus responds that this question is no longer necessary, for "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (v. 9). "If in my name you ask me for anything," he continues, "I will do it" (v. 14). In subsequent verses, he promises that God "will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever" (v. 16; see the Sixth Sunday Of Easter, for more on the Holy Spirit as paraklete, or advocate). In verse 17, he identifies this advocate with "the Spirit of truth." Verses 25-27, which were part of the lectionary selection for the Sixth Sunday Of Easter, are an optional addition.
Preaching Possibilities
Some of the most intractable disagreements between people can be traced to differences of language. This is why translators play such a large role in diplomatic discussions. It's highly important to get the language right.
Some will remember an embarrassing incident that took place during Jimmy Carter's presidency. President Carter made a state visit to Poland, one which attracted a great deal of attention because the Cold War was still going on. The eyes of the world were on the American President, and his efforts at international reconciliation. President Carter began a major speech in Warsaw by saying, in Polish, "I have lustful desire in my heart for the Polish people." What he meant to say, of course, was "I have great love for the Polish people." The problem was, he relied on a U.S. Army translator who didn't know Polish very well, and whose real specialty was nineteenth-century Russian. It was almost unbelievable that, with millions of people of Polish background living in the U.S., the government couldn't locate a competent Polish speaker to translate for the president, but that's exactly what happened. Fortunately, the Poles -- while bewildered at first -- responded with humor and grace, and an international incident was averted.
The biblical writers know all about language difficulties from the very earliest days. There is that compelling story from the eleventh chapter of Genesis, of the Tower of Babel. So confident was that primitive culture that its mighty technology could reach the sky, even to the point of touching God, that the Lord had no choice but to cast the tower down, and scatter the people of the world into different language groups.
For centuries, that was the world everyone knew. A world of clashing cultures, of rampant misunderstanding, of wars and famines and conflicts that could so easily be avoided, if only everyone could sit down together and, for but a moment, talk the same language.
Even when the language is supposedly held in common, there can be differences. It was Winston Churchill who said that England and the United States are "two countries divided by a common language." Yet how often that can be true even within the most intimate of human institutions, the family! How easy it can be for husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister, to talk with each other for hours on end, both parties speaking English -- yet neither one truly understanding the other on the deepest level.
There was one brief interlude when the sun broke through the clouds of human misunderstanding, and the divisions of Babel were mended. It was the "Feast of Weeks," also called Pentecost: one of the greatest holy days of the Jewish year. Thousands of the faithful had descended upon Jerusalem, from every corner of the known world. They had come to remember the giving of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai.
Among those who had gathered in the city were the confused, dispirited followers of one Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified. "They were all together in one place," the scriptures tell us. Most of these men and women had seen Jesus with their own eyes, after he had risen from the dead. But now that he had departed, and they would see him no more.
What next? That was the question. What next, when you have just seen the whole history of the human race cracked open, and put back together again?
"Suddenly, there came from heaven a sound like the rush of a violent wind.... Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them." They poured out into the streets, suddenly able to communicate in different languages. It was as though, by the power of the Holy Spirit, the curse of Babel had been lifted.
Many interpreters, examining this passage, tend to concentrate on the miracle of being able to speak another language. "Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia ..." the names of the nations, and their languages, fairly roll off the lips. Yet in the welter of confusion, of the people running around so giddily that some imagined them to be drunk, it's easy to miss one small verse: "... in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."
Pentecost is a miracle of speaking, it's true, but even more, the day is a miracle of listening. The joy of the residents of Jerusalem, that day, is not so much what they are able to speak, as what they are able to hear and understand. The good news of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection is being shared with them, but not in an unfamiliar tongue. From whichever country they have come, they are receiving that news in their own language. And that is the heart of the miracle.
That's the thing God desires for the church on the Day of Pentecost. God wants, for one brief and beautiful moment, to sweep all barriers away and to allow men, women, and children to hear one another -- to truly hear the language of the soul -- all in their own languages.
Those who work in hospice ministry tell how frequently it happens that dying patients, who have functioned perfectly well using English as a second language, gradually revert to their first language on their deathbed. If their dying is prolonged, they may lose English altogether creating certain practical difficulties for the hospice team, who may have to scramble to find a translator.
It's a beautiful thing, though, in its own way of how, when certain people prepare to pass over into the next life, they are focusing so clearly on seeing their parents and grandparents, those who have gone before them and how they may journey, in memory, back to the time in distant childhood when they first met Jesus. It only makes sense that they would want to function, from that point onward, in the language of home, for home is where they are headed.
The miracle of Pentecost is that our God addresses us in the language of home: "In our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power." That's because our relationship with God is meant to be intimate. God means there to be no barriers to our understanding, no obstacles to block our awareness that God is near.
When Jesus himself is dying on the cross, he speaks not Greek, the language of commerce and learning, which is a second language for him. He speaks Aramaic: "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani": "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" In his dying agony, he reverts to the language he learned at his mother's knee.
There is another occasion when the gospel writers record Jesus speaking Aramaic. When he's teaching the disciples to pray, he instructs them to address God as "Abba" -- the Aramaic diminutive for "Father." Literally, he's advising them to address God as something like "Daddy."
In death and in prayer, in times of extreme solitude, we hear God speaking to us in our own language. And that is a wonder and a joy.
Prayer For The Day
As the Psalmist has written, we are bold to pray:
O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.
-- Psalm 139:1-4
So know us, O God, that your language of love
becomes the language of our hearts. Amen.
To Illustrate
One of the more comic language misunderstandings I've experienced came when I was part of a traveling delegation working to establish a mission partnership between our Presbytery and a presbytery in Cuba. One day I was wearing a red sportshirt that had been given to me by friends from a new church in our Presbytery. It had a stylized picture of a star on it, and the words, "Morning Star - PCUSA" (Morning Star Presbyterian Church is the name of the new congregation). "PCUSA" are the initials of my denomination, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).
Nothing controversial about that -- or so I thought. One hot afternoon in Cuba, I was sitting across from the director of the national Presbyterian camp, where we were staying. Through an interpreter, we were sharing stories of our two churches: how we are alike, how we are different. I listened to her talk about the difficult years when the Cuban government strove mightily to discourage Christians from gathering to worship, and how much more open religious life is now. For my part, I spoke of the difficulties of teaching the faith in a comfortable, affluent society, which routinely pays lip service to Christianity, but which is so adept at ducking Jesus' challenging teachings about justice for the poor.
It was then that my Cuban friend pointed to the logo on my shirt. I could tell from the expression on her face that something about the shirt had been bothering her. She pointed to the initials, P.C.U.S.A. "What is this?" she asked, in some confusion. "Partida Communista U.S.A."? In Cuba, the initials of the Presbyterian church -- "Iglesia Presbyteriana y Reformada en Cuba" -- are "I.P.R.C." The initials "P.C.," especially when combined with the color red, can mean only one thing to a Cuban: "Partida Communista," or "Communist Party."
We had a good laugh over that one, once we realized the difficulties our respective languages had gotten us into. That was a simple misunderstanding, easily remedied, but not all misunderstandings between people are that way.
***
Chris Ewing, a United Church of Canada minister, shares an experience from the time when her first child was born. She was living and working in Montreal at the time, serving a French-speaking church. The people of the church encouraged her to speak to her young son, Ian, in French, and to let her husband speak to him in English. That way, he would grow up bilingual.
"I tried," Chris wrote. "Really I did. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't speak to my own flesh and blood in my second language. It wasn't that my French was poor; it wasn't.... The barrier was not in my grasp of the language but in my soul.... I feel the same way about [all] my acquired languages: though they help me grasp and participate in the world better, they are still an object interposed between me and that world; and for genuine intimacy, all objects need to be out of the way."
***
There is a tribe in east Africa in which the art of true intimacy is fostered even before birth. In this tribe, the birth date of a child is not counted from the day of its physical birth or even the day of conception, as in other village cultures. For this tribe the birth date comes the first time the child is a thought in its mother's mind. Aware of her intention to conceive a child with a particular father, the mother goes off to sit alone under a tree. There she sits and listens until she can hear the song of the child she hopes to conceive. Once she has heard it, she returns to her village and teaches it to the father so they can sing it together as they make love, inviting the child to join them. After the child is conceived, she sings it to the baby in her womb. Then she teaches it to the old women and midwives of the village, so that throughout the labor and at the miraculous moment of birth itself, the child is greeted with its song. After the birth all the villagers learn the song of their new member and sing it to the child when it falls or hurts itself. It is sung in times of triumph, or in rituals and initiations. The song becomes a part of the marriage ceremony when the child is grown, and at the end of life, his or her loved ones will gather around the deathbed and sing this song for the last time.
***
The disciples were full of questions about God.
Said the master, "God is the Unknown and the Unknowable. Every statement about him, every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the truth."
The disciples were bewildered. "Then why do you speak about him at all?"
"Why does the bird sing?" said the master.
Not because it has a statement but because it has a song. The words of the scholar are to be understood. The words of the master are not to be understood. They are to be listened to as one listens to the wind in the trees and the sound of the river and the song of the bird. They will awaken within the heart that which is beyond all knowledge.
-- Anthony DeMello, from The Song of the Bird (New York: Image, Doubleday, 1984)
The miracle of Pentecost is not so much as miracle of speaking, as of listening.
First Lesson
Acts 2:1-21
The Day Of Pentecost
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. This, of course, is the classic Pentecost story: the disciples gathered in fear, the sound of a rushing wind, tongues of fire, and a babble of languages -- as the disciples are empowered to bring the gospel to the ends of the earth. In Luke's understanding, the languages spoken are intelligible human tongues, not the ecstatic tongues of 1 Corinthians 14. The purpose of the Spirit's gift is to enable the spread of the good news. The "devout Jews from every nation under heaven" of verse 4 is the result of the diaspora that has spread Judaism across the Mediterranean world, and even to points east. That widespread dispersion of an ethnic minority, creating a core of people in the middle of many larger cultures who were familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures, provided rich soil for the spread of Christianity. Judaism flourished, as flowers thrive in urban window boxes. When the seeds of Christianity, riding the wind of the Holy Spirit, happened by, the earth had already been prepared. The latter section of this passage (vv. 14-21) relates Peter's sermon to the astonished crowd. Grounding his remarks in Joel 2:28-32, Peter interprets these remarkable events as the work of the Holy Spirit.
Alternate First Lesson
Genesis 11:1-9
The Tower Of Babel
Picking up on the theme of the diversity of languages present in the Pentecost narrative, the lectionary editors have chosen this patriarchal fable from Genesis, which explains the diversity of human languages as the consequence of sin. The particular sin involved is pride -- as expressed in the desire to build a tower to reach God. For the exilic era readers of the final edition of this book, the Babel tower would have called to mind a Babylonian ziggurat. In Akkadian, the language of Babylon, "Babel" means "the gate of God." This folk tale, whose origins are likely much earlier than the exile, was likely modified in such a way that the Babylonians come out in a derogatory light -- although the sin of pride is, sadly, universal in human cultures.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 8:14-17
The Spirit Of Adoption
In this concluding section of a larger argument in which Paul has been outlining the differences between life "according to the flesh" and life "according to the spirit," the apostle moves on to introduce the idea of adoption. Through the Holy Spirit, those who follow Jesus Christ are adopted as God's children (vv. 14-15). Along with that adoption comes an inheritance; Christians are, in fact, "joint heirs with Christ" (v. 17a). As with any inheritance, there is an element of waiting, for now, it is but a promise. It is also an inheritance that has some ambiguity to it, for it includes both suffering and glory (v. 17b).
Alternate New Testament Lesson
Acts 2:1-21
The Day Of Pentecost
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. (See First Lesson, above.)
The Gospel
John 14:8-17 (25-27)
The Spirit Of Truth
Philip voices the universal question of human spiritual aspiration: "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied" (v. 8). Jesus responds that this question is no longer necessary, for "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (v. 9). "If in my name you ask me for anything," he continues, "I will do it" (v. 14). In subsequent verses, he promises that God "will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever" (v. 16; see the Sixth Sunday Of Easter, for more on the Holy Spirit as paraklete, or advocate). In verse 17, he identifies this advocate with "the Spirit of truth." Verses 25-27, which were part of the lectionary selection for the Sixth Sunday Of Easter, are an optional addition.
Preaching Possibilities
Some of the most intractable disagreements between people can be traced to differences of language. This is why translators play such a large role in diplomatic discussions. It's highly important to get the language right.
Some will remember an embarrassing incident that took place during Jimmy Carter's presidency. President Carter made a state visit to Poland, one which attracted a great deal of attention because the Cold War was still going on. The eyes of the world were on the American President, and his efforts at international reconciliation. President Carter began a major speech in Warsaw by saying, in Polish, "I have lustful desire in my heart for the Polish people." What he meant to say, of course, was "I have great love for the Polish people." The problem was, he relied on a U.S. Army translator who didn't know Polish very well, and whose real specialty was nineteenth-century Russian. It was almost unbelievable that, with millions of people of Polish background living in the U.S., the government couldn't locate a competent Polish speaker to translate for the president, but that's exactly what happened. Fortunately, the Poles -- while bewildered at first -- responded with humor and grace, and an international incident was averted.
The biblical writers know all about language difficulties from the very earliest days. There is that compelling story from the eleventh chapter of Genesis, of the Tower of Babel. So confident was that primitive culture that its mighty technology could reach the sky, even to the point of touching God, that the Lord had no choice but to cast the tower down, and scatter the people of the world into different language groups.
For centuries, that was the world everyone knew. A world of clashing cultures, of rampant misunderstanding, of wars and famines and conflicts that could so easily be avoided, if only everyone could sit down together and, for but a moment, talk the same language.
Even when the language is supposedly held in common, there can be differences. It was Winston Churchill who said that England and the United States are "two countries divided by a common language." Yet how often that can be true even within the most intimate of human institutions, the family! How easy it can be for husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister, to talk with each other for hours on end, both parties speaking English -- yet neither one truly understanding the other on the deepest level.
There was one brief interlude when the sun broke through the clouds of human misunderstanding, and the divisions of Babel were mended. It was the "Feast of Weeks," also called Pentecost: one of the greatest holy days of the Jewish year. Thousands of the faithful had descended upon Jerusalem, from every corner of the known world. They had come to remember the giving of the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai.
Among those who had gathered in the city were the confused, dispirited followers of one Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified. "They were all together in one place," the scriptures tell us. Most of these men and women had seen Jesus with their own eyes, after he had risen from the dead. But now that he had departed, and they would see him no more.
What next? That was the question. What next, when you have just seen the whole history of the human race cracked open, and put back together again?
"Suddenly, there came from heaven a sound like the rush of a violent wind.... Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them." They poured out into the streets, suddenly able to communicate in different languages. It was as though, by the power of the Holy Spirit, the curse of Babel had been lifted.
Many interpreters, examining this passage, tend to concentrate on the miracle of being able to speak another language. "Parthians, Medes, Elamites, residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia ..." the names of the nations, and their languages, fairly roll off the lips. Yet in the welter of confusion, of the people running around so giddily that some imagined them to be drunk, it's easy to miss one small verse: "... in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."
Pentecost is a miracle of speaking, it's true, but even more, the day is a miracle of listening. The joy of the residents of Jerusalem, that day, is not so much what they are able to speak, as what they are able to hear and understand. The good news of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection is being shared with them, but not in an unfamiliar tongue. From whichever country they have come, they are receiving that news in their own language. And that is the heart of the miracle.
That's the thing God desires for the church on the Day of Pentecost. God wants, for one brief and beautiful moment, to sweep all barriers away and to allow men, women, and children to hear one another -- to truly hear the language of the soul -- all in their own languages.
Those who work in hospice ministry tell how frequently it happens that dying patients, who have functioned perfectly well using English as a second language, gradually revert to their first language on their deathbed. If their dying is prolonged, they may lose English altogether creating certain practical difficulties for the hospice team, who may have to scramble to find a translator.
It's a beautiful thing, though, in its own way of how, when certain people prepare to pass over into the next life, they are focusing so clearly on seeing their parents and grandparents, those who have gone before them and how they may journey, in memory, back to the time in distant childhood when they first met Jesus. It only makes sense that they would want to function, from that point onward, in the language of home, for home is where they are headed.
The miracle of Pentecost is that our God addresses us in the language of home: "In our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power." That's because our relationship with God is meant to be intimate. God means there to be no barriers to our understanding, no obstacles to block our awareness that God is near.
When Jesus himself is dying on the cross, he speaks not Greek, the language of commerce and learning, which is a second language for him. He speaks Aramaic: "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani": "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" In his dying agony, he reverts to the language he learned at his mother's knee.
There is another occasion when the gospel writers record Jesus speaking Aramaic. When he's teaching the disciples to pray, he instructs them to address God as "Abba" -- the Aramaic diminutive for "Father." Literally, he's advising them to address God as something like "Daddy."
In death and in prayer, in times of extreme solitude, we hear God speaking to us in our own language. And that is a wonder and a joy.
Prayer For The Day
As the Psalmist has written, we are bold to pray:
O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.
-- Psalm 139:1-4
So know us, O God, that your language of love
becomes the language of our hearts. Amen.
To Illustrate
One of the more comic language misunderstandings I've experienced came when I was part of a traveling delegation working to establish a mission partnership between our Presbytery and a presbytery in Cuba. One day I was wearing a red sportshirt that had been given to me by friends from a new church in our Presbytery. It had a stylized picture of a star on it, and the words, "Morning Star - PCUSA" (Morning Star Presbyterian Church is the name of the new congregation). "PCUSA" are the initials of my denomination, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).
Nothing controversial about that -- or so I thought. One hot afternoon in Cuba, I was sitting across from the director of the national Presbyterian camp, where we were staying. Through an interpreter, we were sharing stories of our two churches: how we are alike, how we are different. I listened to her talk about the difficult years when the Cuban government strove mightily to discourage Christians from gathering to worship, and how much more open religious life is now. For my part, I spoke of the difficulties of teaching the faith in a comfortable, affluent society, which routinely pays lip service to Christianity, but which is so adept at ducking Jesus' challenging teachings about justice for the poor.
It was then that my Cuban friend pointed to the logo on my shirt. I could tell from the expression on her face that something about the shirt had been bothering her. She pointed to the initials, P.C.U.S.A. "What is this?" she asked, in some confusion. "Partida Communista U.S.A."? In Cuba, the initials of the Presbyterian church -- "Iglesia Presbyteriana y Reformada en Cuba" -- are "I.P.R.C." The initials "P.C.," especially when combined with the color red, can mean only one thing to a Cuban: "Partida Communista," or "Communist Party."
We had a good laugh over that one, once we realized the difficulties our respective languages had gotten us into. That was a simple misunderstanding, easily remedied, but not all misunderstandings between people are that way.
***
Chris Ewing, a United Church of Canada minister, shares an experience from the time when her first child was born. She was living and working in Montreal at the time, serving a French-speaking church. The people of the church encouraged her to speak to her young son, Ian, in French, and to let her husband speak to him in English. That way, he would grow up bilingual.
"I tried," Chris wrote. "Really I did. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't speak to my own flesh and blood in my second language. It wasn't that my French was poor; it wasn't.... The barrier was not in my grasp of the language but in my soul.... I feel the same way about [all] my acquired languages: though they help me grasp and participate in the world better, they are still an object interposed between me and that world; and for genuine intimacy, all objects need to be out of the way."
***
There is a tribe in east Africa in which the art of true intimacy is fostered even before birth. In this tribe, the birth date of a child is not counted from the day of its physical birth or even the day of conception, as in other village cultures. For this tribe the birth date comes the first time the child is a thought in its mother's mind. Aware of her intention to conceive a child with a particular father, the mother goes off to sit alone under a tree. There she sits and listens until she can hear the song of the child she hopes to conceive. Once she has heard it, she returns to her village and teaches it to the father so they can sing it together as they make love, inviting the child to join them. After the child is conceived, she sings it to the baby in her womb. Then she teaches it to the old women and midwives of the village, so that throughout the labor and at the miraculous moment of birth itself, the child is greeted with its song. After the birth all the villagers learn the song of their new member and sing it to the child when it falls or hurts itself. It is sung in times of triumph, or in rituals and initiations. The song becomes a part of the marriage ceremony when the child is grown, and at the end of life, his or her loved ones will gather around the deathbed and sing this song for the last time.
***
The disciples were full of questions about God.
Said the master, "God is the Unknown and the Unknowable. Every statement about him, every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the truth."
The disciples were bewildered. "Then why do you speak about him at all?"
"Why does the bird sing?" said the master.
Not because it has a statement but because it has a song. The words of the scholar are to be understood. The words of the master are not to be understood. They are to be listened to as one listens to the wind in the trees and the sound of the river and the song of the bird. They will awaken within the heart that which is beyond all knowledge.
-- Anthony DeMello, from The Song of the Bird (New York: Image, Doubleday, 1984)
