on two-by-fours

It's Pentecost! My most favorite of favoritest feasts.

My Pentecost began gently: tea, reading a new book (The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht), feeding cats I'm taking care of for the weekend, heading to church. It was the start of the Perfect Pentecost.

Until, in the midst of this gentle morning, as I contemplated the Spirit's work in my life and in the world, a reminder of a failed friendship fluttered into my mind. I got mad. I had a great argument with this person in my head as I drove about from cat-sitting to church. I got righteous and angry and hard-hearted. I thought about how I deserve to be treated so much better than this, how never seeing this person again would be Fine. By. Me.

And then I thought about another friend of mine who I hoped I'd never have to deal with again. For a long time we were not on speaking terms. It caused a major rift in our circle of friends and was incredibly painful—for us and for those around us. I thought of this person and realized that writing off my other friend who has hurt me is not, perhaps, the best way to go about things.

And yet, the frustration persisted. It's Pentecost, dammit! I should be happy and Spirit-filled and inspired. I shouldn't have to think of complicated things like forgiveness and healing. Today is not the day for that!

So I trudged off to church, a little less pious than I anticipated being, showing up as the monks were processing in to the abbey, and I settled in to the liturgy, hoping that maybe it would bring me back to the true meaning of Pentecost: Wisdom! Spirit! Fire! Warmth!

It wasn't until the gospel reading that I realized there was a two-by-four headed straight for my forehead, wielded, of course, by God herself. This one had the word "FORGIVENESS" carved on it. The readings for today emphasize the varied gifts of the Spirit, the many ways the Spirit moves in our lives. Here I was pondering how wonderful it would be to hear the great cacophony giving witness to God when John's gospel reminded me that forgiveness is, indeed, the work of the Spirit, the work of this day: "[Jesus] breathed on them and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them.'"

Aw, hell.

What do we do with a Spirit who is that persistent, that demanding, that frustrating? My first inclination today was to ignore that Spirit, to shut her down and pretend she wasn't talking to me. Maybe I could get away with thinking of those great gifts of the Spirit, the ones I've been given, and what I'll do with them. Yeah, that's not too demanding.

But the niggling idea of forgiveness was lodged in my brain for good. And has been all day. I don't feel ready to forgive, but I do know that if this person by whom I feel wronged were to show up, my anger would need to be set aside, my forgiveness extended, my heart opened.

Some days I'm not quite sure what to do with a Spirit who calls us to this kind of radical love, which, at times, is quite painful. But, because I've experienced profound forgiving and forgiveness already, I recognize that, through the Spirit, there is grace in healing what seems impossible to heal.