Genesis 11:1-9 Psalm 104:26-36 Acts 2:1-21 John 14:8-17
Earlier this week, my mum sent me an email and the subject line said BEAUTIFUL, in capitals, and the body of the email was just a link. It was a link to a poem by the inspiring poet and civil rights activist, Maya Angelou, and is called Caged Bird. It says this:
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind, and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage,
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown…but longed for still,
and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze, and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees, and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn, and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams:
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown…but longed for still,
and his tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.
I have long been enamoured by the idea of the Holy Spirit as a bird that flies through history, impossible to pin down, and chooses to come to nest in the cages of our heart. She beats her wings, and we are enlivened, and she has the key to that cage, which she opens slowly, gradually, to set us free, so we might be free-makers for others. So it is fitting she came to nest again, a few days before Pentecost.
Pentecost – originally a Jewish festival – became a significant way-marker on an unstoppable process that began at the dawn of Creation when God spoke Light into being. The continuation of one eternal, act of grace; a gift of God’s very self, given to us, for always. The flightiest part of God came to live within the cages of humanity – to fulfil God’s ministry of love.
She came to invite and accompany us on acts of holy mischief. She is subversive and cunning, in all the best ways. Dangerous as fire, and essential as air. She is one to be encountered, experienced, not just talked about.
It is by the Holy Spirit that our gifts of bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ in our holy meal. It is the Holy Spirit of Pentecost descending on us in every blessing, absolution and dismissal. She baptises and confirms and ordains and consecrates. By the Holy Spirit new people wander into Church and stay. The Holy Spirit drew you to church this morning, even if you think it’s just what you do on a Sunday morning.
Pentecost didn’t begin and end in the event we heard in our Acts reading. It is breaking out all over the place and it can’t be hindered or stopped. You can’t resist Her, and you can’t avoid Her. You can only choose to spot what she is up to, and decide whether you want to join in.
And to return to Maya’s inspired words, the Holy Spirit is ‘A free bird [who] leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends…and dares to claim the sky’. She claims it because she was there at the dawn of time, saw it created, laughed as the first sun rose, whispered as it set…
And we, we are invited to be that same sky that She soars on and with and through
Yet, far too often, we remain in the cages of our own selves and confine the Spirit there too.
We establish and guard the bars of our rage, we clip the Spirit’s wings and tie Her feet.
We think the song we hear the Spirit sing is fearful, because we are…
And we long for more but are just a little too afraid to step off into it, because what
if freedom is just too dangerous?
And yet our hearts know something our brains can’t quite comprehend.
Our heart knows it is designed for courage and hope and joy and dance, not safety.
And when our brain says ‘why’, our hearts say, ‘why not’.
And over and over, since the first light of Creation, the wind and flames of the Spirit has been drawing us into whatever is next. Wings wide and unfurled, voice calling out freedom, we have chance after chance to step into the depths of God’s mercy and see where that flow takes us.
How often do we notice that,
let alone consider saying yes,
let alone step off and step in.
How often? Rarely, I would say. Really rarely.
But if not today, on the day of Pentecost, then when?
And if not here, then where?
Pentecost isn’t about looking back—it’s about leaning in.
Not because we have a plan. But because we trust God.
The Spirit still longs for hearts to land in. Still sings of freedom. So today, you are invited to come forward and experience Her; receive a fresh anointing of the Holy Spirit. The sign of the cross, on your head, with holy oil.
Not to understand the Holy Spirit—but to welcome her.
Not to explain Pentecost—but to receive it. To say yes. Even without knowing what yes will mean. To open your cage. To be, once more, made new.
And if you listen closely—perhaps you’ll hear her already.
The flutter of wings. The rush of wind. The sound of fire. The voice of love.
Because the caged bird sings of freedom.
And today, the song is yours.
Amen.
