A gale blew from heaven - and then they began to speak

David Pickering's address to Operation Noah's AGM, 2010

On the eve of the Pentecost, David found meaning in his experience of the full force of nature: 

1. When the day of Pentecost arrived, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 And divided tongues as of fire appeared to them and rested [1] on each one of them. 4 And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.

                                                        Bible reading, Acts 2; 1-4.

George MacLeod, founder of the modern day Iona Community described Iona as a thin place…. saying only a tissue paper separated the material from the spiritual. I have also experienced the merging of heaven and earth in the Hebrides and the Western Isles was also the location of the last gale I experienced.

The occasion was our 20th wedding anniversary, and to mark the occasion we signed up for a trip to the enigmatic St Kilda – the remotest group of islands around our coast and one of only a handful of dual world heritage sites on account of its cultural and natural significance. We went in June, assured of the longest daylight and hoping for the best of weather. We got one out of two. We spent our first day port bound on Lewis, but a break in the weather enabled us to slip away on the second day and head for St Kilda. Today is not an occasion to say more than it was a haunting place, with remnants of a community lived on the edge, with about as small a carbon footprint as could be imagined.

Our time on St Kilda was short lived, we had an evening, a glorious next day but the skipper reported an impending gale so we had to leave sharp. Our hearts yearned to stay a little longer, but within a few hours we understood why, the wind blew up to a force 9, gusting 10, and our relatively small boat pitched and yawed, tossed I have to say quite scarily. We learnt later some bird ringers camping on Dun, part of the St Kilda group lost absolutely everything, tent, possessions, everything and spent two days clinging on before being rescued by a helicopter.

As we returned to Lewis in the boat, we experienced the full fury of nature, a gale blew and I said more than a silent prayer! It was an awesome and challenging experience and strangely invigorating.

Wind has blown over the waters from the earliest of times. In the beginning the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the water, and creation sprung forth.

And around 2000 years ago at Pentecost, which we celebrate in churches tomorrow, again a wind blew like a gale, this time God’s spirit to usher in a new order. Two stories to remind us that we live in a world in which God is at work to create and re-create, order and re-order that which has become unravelled and distorted.

So 2000 years on, amidst the crisis of climate change and fears of tipping point, a new depth of greed and addiction to consumption, it is pertinent to ask: which way might God’s spirit be blowing us?

Looking back over the last five years with Operation Noah we’ve grown from a relatively small gathering of a few folk equipped with a generous financial gift and linked into church structures, to an organisation that has punched hugely above our weight. We’ve worked hard, gained a considerable profile, but have still to make the break-through change.

Our AGM is entitled by ‘cloud and fire’, but if I was to identify our position in the Exodus story, I wonder if we are nearer to the beleaguered Israelites enslaved in Egypt, rather than the band of travellers heading out through the wilderness to the Promised Land.

Why do I suggest this? Because over the last few years Operation Noah has gone to Pharaoh more than a few times and in effect demanded, let my people go! Let my people go from the threat of climate change, let my people go from rising carbon emissions. And carbon capture and storage remains an elusive hope whilst we’re still captive to consumption. We’ve met Pharaoh in the face of political leaders as we’ve sought carbon cuts and structural changes, dare I say it met Pharaoh in encounters with some church leaders lukewarm to our message and less warm to providing tangible support. And in honest moments acknowledge the Pharaoh within ourselves, for each of us is aware of aspects of our lives which enslave to that we fear.

And whilst we’ve been banging on Pharaoh’s door these last five years, the plagues of climate change have become ever more apparent, ever more threatening, not least to those who have the least and have contributed the least to the problem. The plague of climate change is lapping around South Pacific islands, insidiously enveloping. The plague of climate change is impacting on land with some places experiencing scorching temperature, fire and drought, others a tide a torrent of rain with flooding and others the steady flow of melting ice.

One storm doesn’t prove climate change the incidence of climate change related disasters is growing inexorably. Katrina didn’t shift the then Washington based Pharaoh, and the outcome of Copenhagen revealed too many Pharaoh’s in denial of what sound consensus science has reported is the reality, urgency and scale of the issue.

So where next for ON? We’ve given advocacy a good crack, and Pharaoh might have heard but Pharaoh hasn’t truly changed. Perhaps it is time for a re-think, a different approach in changing times.

In his book Faith and Politics after Christendom Stuart Murray set out the changes that have taken place as our society has travelled from what is described as Christendom to post-Christendom, and with it a change in the way of church, thinking that has been developed by Ekklesia - the Christian think-tank.

‘Christendom’ being when Christianity was dominant culturally and politically in western Europe, arguably at its peak in 1700, which is not necessarily the same as being Christian, to post-Christendom today when Christianity is neither dominant in culture or politics. Whether we lament that shift or not, it is helpful to recognise the change. So what has changed?

Over the last 300 years the church moved from the centre to the margins, from majority to minority, from settlers to sojourners – from shaping culture to being in many ways exiles and pilgrims in a culture where we may not feel at home, from a position of privilege to being one group in a pluralistic society, from being in a position of some control to being increasingly a witness, from being about maintenance of the system to mission activity within a contested environment, from being institution to being movement, and whilst it can be hard letting go of so much, the move towards post-Christendom is a move to a situation known and lived out by Jesus.

For in so many ways, amidst Roman might and Temple authority Jesus was on the margins, he was in a small minority, a sojourner travelling around Galilee, not part of a privileged order but ministered as one group amongst many. His ministry was less about control and more about witness, less about maintenance of the status quo and all-about movement for the kingdom. Were this not the case we wouldn’t be here.

Writing on the Christianity movement in the Tablet, Richard Rohr spoke of keeping one foot in our mother church whilst moving towards a following of Jesus that has much more to do with an actual daily lifestyle than believing specific things. He advocated new ways of community; encompassing recovery groups, prayer groups, study groups, hospitality, not least for the poor and alienated. Practicing a lifestyle by teaching non-violence, simplicity of living, peace-making, love of creation and offering a radical critique to the perennial systems of domination, money and power.

Some may lament the passing of Christendom, but it can feel refreshing to embrace this new era, to minister from the margins, not to worry about being the minority or that we have to exist amongst many, but embracing the challenge of witnessing within a movement.

That was the challenge faced by the newly baptised church in Acts following Pentecost. And we have another similarity of life with the early church. They believed that the world was about to end because of the coming again of Christ, the culmination of God’s Kingdom and so ministered to gather as many as possible within the holy ark – repent and believe was their message. We don’t believe that the world will end, it will endure for sure, but science informs us that unless we repent of our profligate consumption and carbon addiction, life on earth will change significantly, and beyond our comfort zone.

So where is God’s spirit calling us? Is it to continue railing against the Pharaoh’s? I’m sure that remains a part of our mission. Is it to set a movement in motion, to live not as if the world will end tomorrow but as if our carbon budget is zero tomorrow?
I sense this may become a complementary part of our mission. Is it to be less maintenance and institution and more movement and witness? Possibly?

A gale blew….. and they began to speak.

As the wind blew us back from St Kilda it was a pretty choppy ride, but ultimately an awesome, challenging and strangely invigorating experience.

Pentecost is a celebration of the coming of God’s spirit and a time to open ourselves to where God’s spirit may be blowing us next, a time of recreation and of re-ordering. Back to Pharaoh to press our demands and out into the world as movement to witness.

May God inspire and guide the ark as we chart our next course in the Ark. Amen.

David Pickering