The Third Glorious Mystery: The Descent of the Holy Spirit
The following is the fifth of twenty monthly
reflections about the Mysteries of the Rosary as they relate to family
life. The mysteries will not be
necessarily chronological but presented as they interact with the liturgical
year.
One
quite enjoyable aspect of being a parent has been watching my children develop
their language skills. Such a remarkable
transformation takes place from when my wife and I were so excited to hear
“Dada” or “Mama” to the point of listening to our kids put together sentences
and tell us whole stories. Recently,
after my nearly 5 year-old son had done something regrettable, I was trying to
explain to him the idea of having a conscience and that it would help him tell
right from wrong. He then told me,
“Daddy, sometimes, when I do bad things, it’s because my bad brain tells me to
do it. I try not to listen to my bad
brain, but it’s hard sometimes.” Now, I
have absolutely no idea where he came up with the phrase “bad brain,” but it
was both hilarious and illustrative of part of our human condition. Not only was my son learning language, he was
awakening to deeper truths and mysteries of God, life, and relationship, even
at his young age. Of course, compared to
God’s intellect, ours will always be like that of a little child’s. Yet, as we see in this month’s mystery of the
rosary, there are sometimes moments of enlightenment that lead us to greater
understanding.
As
the apostles gathered shortly before the Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost,
they were in a state of contradiction. Though
certainly excited about the events of recent days with Jesus’ resurrected return,
they remained out of contact with the wider community. Praying together in that room, not even the
momentous event of Jesus’ rising was enough to spur them onward to spread the
Good News to others.
This is not
unlike our own lives of faith at times.
We are grateful for God’s many graces and blessings, but we are not
always sure what to do with them.
Sometimes going about the busy nature of our lives can keep us from
always asking the important questions of God’s will for us. Even when we, like the apostles, spend time
praying for guidance, we do not always receive timely answers. Instead, we are waiting for the Spirit to
move.
The hope and
promise of Pentecost is that the Holy Spirit will indeed move. We can imagine the scene that day: the strong
driving wind, the tongues of fire, the doors bursting open, the apostles
readily distributing themselves among the people and telling them, in their
many native languages, of the wonders of God manifested in the person of Jesus. It is a truly remarkable event and a
culmination, in a sense, of what Jesus came to do. He had gathered this ragtag bunch only a few
years before, and they had followed him since then. Sometimes they had been faithful, but they
also were prone to confusion, pettiness, and a limited vision of Jesus’ mission
on earth. It is only with the rushing in
of the Holy Spirit that the evangelized become the evangelizers. Those who had known and followed the Word of
God for three years were finally able to use words to preach courageously about
him.
As we reflect on
the moments of our faith journey, we find ourselves at different times on
various parts of the spectrum. Like
children learning a language, we begin with babbling, move to words, string those
words together, and occasionally utter something coherent and profound. The important thing to remember is that we
never act alone. The Holy Spirit
continues to live and move in our time, and if we open ourselves to this
direction, it can lead to moments of clarity, of doors bursting open as we rush
to do the will of God. As long as we
listen to the Spirit and not our “bad brain,” we will know exactly what to do!
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