“When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit enabled them.” (Acts 2: 1 – 4)

Curious, I checked. I went to hallmark.com and searched for a Pentecost card. Here’s what popped up: “We’re sorry, no results were found for ‘pentecost’. You may want to broaden your search by using more general terms.”

No Hallmark card. Not bad. But surprising in a day when so many people like to say, “I’m spiritual but not religious.” Pentecost is about Spirit, and it’s one of the major feasts of the Church year, right up there with Christmas, Easter, the Feast of the Ascension, and All Saints.

That Pentecost is inconspicuous is as it should be. The Spirit is unassuming, televangelists notwithstanding (my kids think televangelism works great as comedy). The Spirit doesn’t go in for klieg lights. To hear Jesus talk about it, the Spirit’s primary business is to teach us and remind us of what Jesus said. That’s a big deal, that clarifying and sacred work, and we celebrate it this Sunday.

The first Pentecost was connected with an event well attested in the earliest history of the Church. The Day of Pentecost c. 33 AD already had a Hebrew festival celebrating the giving of the Law, and so Jerusalem was filled with pilgrims from the diaspora of Jews. The apostles of Jesus — hunted, depressed, confused, uncertain of their future — were together and were overtaken with a wind and what Luke calls “tongues of fire.”

To the sentiment that Jesus would stick around, a wish expressed by the Apostles themselves, Jesus’ gave remonstrance. He told his disciples that they would be better off if he left. “It is for your good that I am going away,” he said. “Unless I go away, the Comforter will not come to you; but if I go I will send him to you… . When he, the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth” (John 16).

And so the Spirit does. The Spirit gives us the language by which we are able to talk to God at all, to pray, to say the Creed or to say “Jesus is Lord.” The Spirit gives us breath to speak these things and, as Billy Shand put it, “apart from that breath we have nothing to say.” Eugene Peterson writes,

Turnips complete a fairly complex and useful life cycle without the use of words. Roses grace the world with extraordinary beauty and fragrance without uttering a word. It is quite impressive really, what goes on around us without words: ocean tides, mountain heights, stormy weather, turning constellations, genetic codes, bird migrations — most, in fact, of what we see and hear around us, a great deal of it incredibly complex, but without language, wordless. And we, we human beings, have words…. This human nature of ours with its mysterious capacity for language is paralleled in the nature of God. God speaks our language. In the term we use to refer to our interest in God, theology, the two words are set along side each other and then combined; theos meaning God and logos meaning word. Theos is capable of logos, logos is characteristic of theos. Then the significance of the parallel hits us: We are capable of speech; God reveals himself in speech. In the complete revelation of God, the Word became flesh.

The Spirit who brooded over chaos made possible roses and the world as we know it. It’s nothing to sneeze at. If you think you could make a better world give it your best shot. Knock yourself out. And remember this. The same Spirit came down upon the Church at Pentecost and forged a ragtag band of individuals into a force invincible against the whole might of the Roman Empire. 

Remarkably, many successful fantasies are theologically freighted, and Pullman’s is no exception—but the theological freight his books carry turns out to be a distinct anti-theology. The phrase “his dark materials” comes from John Milton’s Paradise Lost and early in The Golden Compass the reader can already see that Pullman is retelling Milton’s epic and, by extension, the biblical narrative on which it is based. In His Dark Materials Pullman offers a Creation story with the familiar roles reversed: If, as William Blake said, “Milton was of the Devil’s Party without knowing it,” Pullman knows perfectly well whose side he is on.

Whichever party readers support in the ancient contest between God and Satan, they will be disappointed to see how often, in The Amber Spyglass, the tale’s momentum is interrupted by polemic. Pullman’s anti-theistic scolding consorts poorly with his prodigious skills as a storyteller. In imagination and narrative drive, he has few peers among current novelists. For such gifts to be thrust into the service of a reductive and contemptuous ideology is very nearly a tragedy.

Alan Jacobs reviews Pullman at First Things

Say Heav’nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein

Afford a present to the Infant God?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,

To welcome Him to this, his new abode…?

December 24, 2008

Dear Family and Friends,

The biggest news we have for you this year is that our eldest son, Evan Robert, was married May 31st to Kristin Signe Torok, the daughter of Andrew and Robin Torok of San Juan Capistrano, CA. Phil co-officiated the ceremony at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena. All four of Kristin’s siblings and all three of Evan’s were involved in the wedding. Kristin gave Evan the wedding ring my mother had given my father, and which I’d worn for twenty-five years after he passed away in 1982. The reception was at the Jonathan Club in downtown Los Angeles. It was lovely—and what a party! Kristin and her parents planned everything to perfection. We enjoyed spending nearly a week in southern California and are thrilled for Evan and Kristin. It was also truly a pleasure to see so many of our relatives and friends at the wedding; guests flew in from at least four continents, including my brother Russ with Beth and Anna from Kenya. Even now, we often find ourselves reminiscing about how wonderful the fairy-tale wedding was.

I’m afraid that I have gotten a bit ahead of myself in talking about the wedding; I would like to tell you about how we came to know Kristin better. She spent weekends with us in our home in the fall of 2007 whilst she interned at the White House in the First Lady’s Press Office. We have all come to love her and are delighted to welcome her into our family.

Evan and Kristin were graduated from Wheaton College May 11th. The same day, Evan was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the 82nd Airborne Division of the U. S. Army. He and Kristin spent this fall back in Wheaton while Evan worked as a Gold Bar Recruiter for the ROTC Department at Wheaton. From mid-January through the Spring, he will be at several Army bases around the country; and in the summer, he will deploy for a one-year tour in Iraq. Kristin finished up her law school applications in November and will begin the study of law in the fall.

Gabriel enjoyed being Evan’s Best Man in the wedding. Currently in his sophomore year at Yale, he served this past semester as the Chief Whip of the Tory Party in the Yale Political Union. He is the principal oboist in the Saybrook College Orchestra at Yale and he worships at Christ Church Episcopal, the Anglo-Catholic parish close to campus. A highlight this year for us was listening these past several days to Gabriel having domestic conversations in Japanese with his お祖母さん (grandmother). He has now completed three semesters of Japanese language study.

Gillian is in her senior year at St. Andrew’s Episcopal School in Potomac. She is graceful, lithe, and lovely. In the midst of her college applications, she is involved in school theatrical productions, AP Studio Art, and youth group at our parish, Saint Francis Episcopal Church. She has a heart for the Dayspring from on High, and I am confident that her tender spirit will guide her through her life. She and I have become close friends and enjoy reading together, walking with our dog, shopping, and baking. Gillian will be graduating from high school in June. And whither then? We cannot say.

Aaron, aged thirteen, has grown eight inches taller this year. He and I spend our days at Norwood School in Bethesda together, where he is in seventh grade. Aaron took up the viola a year ago and plays in my string ensemble. He also continues to play the piano, which he performed on Saturday at a local nursing home (I bring my students and children there every December to play carols and sing for the residents). Aaron loves sports, history, youth group, eating, and playing and relaxing with his dad. The poor boy wept uncontrollably at Evan’s wedding. Though he loves his new sister-in-law and is happy for Evan, the wedding signified a big change for him, as he and Evan have become best friends in the last few years.

We took our annual summer holiday in Harbor Springs, Michigan this July. Phil served again as the vicar of St. John’s Episcopal Church, a summer chapel there, for three Sundays. This was our sixth year in Harbor, and we are so grateful for the opportunity to relax there and for our Saint John’s friends. This year, we had the particular pleasure of spending part of our time there with Evan and Kristin and Andy and Robin Torok and their children! It’s always interesting having three thirteen-year-olds running around, especially since Aaron was born within an hour of twins Andrew and Ashley Torok.

In closing, I would like to convey something that Phil taught our friends at Saint Francis at the Adult Forum on Sunday. As we celebrate the Nativity of our Lord, I am astounded by the paradox that the Most High, who creates the universe by speaking a word, becomes an infant. For our word infancy comes from the Latin word infans, which literally means, “not speaking.” It may be entirely inappropriate for Milton to chide the muse as he does, and his competitiveness is unseemly, but he has our sympathies even so.

See how from far upon the Eastern road

The Star-led wizards haste with odors sweet:

O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,

And lay it lowly at his blessed feet.

The poet sees the magi bearing their gifts as they follow the Star of Bethlehem to the manger, and he (being Milton!) wants to beat them to the scene. So I wonder. If I could outrun the magi to lay words at the wordless one’s feet, what would they be? Words of thanksgiving. For him. And for you. For “Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, / And say my glory was I had such friends.”

Blessings,

Victoria Ellsworth (for Phil, Evan, Kristin, Gabriel, Gillian, Aaron, and dog Maddie)

O Blessed Lord Jesus, our choicest gift, our dearest guest; Let not our souls be busy inns that have no room for you and yours, but quiet homes of prayer and praise, where you may find the best company, where needful cares of life are wisely ordered and put away, and where wide, sweet spaces are kept for you. So when you come again, O Blessed One, may you find all things ready, and your servants waiting for no new master, but for one long loved and known. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

John Milton, On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity, line 15.

On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity, line 22.

W. B. Yeats, The Municipal Gallery Revisited, lines 54-55.

For centuries now, English intellectuals have seen him primarily as a poet, and his thought has been treated with slight embarrassment - whether on Tory, Catholic, atheist or aesthetic grounds. The vast majority of those who now write about Milton are literary critics who are not very interested in his religious thought, except as a theme within his art, almost as important as his misogyny. It’s as if Germany had forgotten that Luther was a theologian, and only ever discussed him from a literary perspective.

Theo Hobson