“Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them (the disciples), and a tongue rested on each of them.”

In the words of American Idol judge Randy Jackson, “Dawg, check it out!” Check out this worship space today, lovingly bedecked by a caring Altar Guild in the fiery flames of Pentecost. Check it out: they are above our collective heads in this grand arch (and that would be thanks — more accurately – to a caring custodian!).

Check it out: they are just over your shoulder and above your head in the flickering flames — and don’t worry — there’s earthquake putty under those votive candles just in case — or perhaps I should say “violent windstorm” putty — should the gale of God whip up a whirling wind among us here this morning!

And check it out: the illustration on the cover of the bulletin: flaming tongues not unlike those floating around in this mighty mobile above my head. And if that weren’t enough, check it out: even the pew cushions and the carpet in this room assist in reminding us today that we are indeed immersed, deluged, baptized, surrounded, overrun, overwhelmed, completely inundated, and absolutely filled to overflowing in and by the Holy Spirit.

This morning’s first reading tells us how it all happened the first time. The apostles were gathered together in a house in Jerusalem during the festival of Pentecost, a Jewish thanksgiving-type of observance also called the “Feast of Weeks,” celebrated seven weeks after Passover, and as they were there together in that house, all of a sudden from seemingly out of nowhere, the sound of mighty rushing violent windstorm filled the entire house. I guess you could say they were really “praying up a storm” — a whirling wind, those flickering flames, those torrential tongues, and this cacophony of clatter — all adding up to a cataclysmic encounter with the Holy Spirit, the Advocate (as we heard in the Gospel text) whom Jesus had promised he would send them after he had gone away.

For as long as I can remember, this first day of Pentecost event has been called the “birthday of the church”, but it actually does seem more fitting to call it the church’s baptism day or, as my mom likes to say when she picks up the phone and calls me on the anniversary of my baptism each year, “Happy Rebirthday!” It really is the rebirth of the church, from a dozen dusty and fearful disciples who were prone to meeting behind closed doors to fearless followers who were filled with holy boldness and the Holy Spirit and who, that day, were given the ability to speak in as many different foreign languages as there were people from the lands those languages represented who happened to be living in Jerusalem and celebrating the Feast of Weeks.

Great tongues of fire! The disciples were so filled with the Spirit that their own tongues were touched to tell the story of God’s saving power in the language of the stranger in their midst: Parthians, Medes, Asians, Egyptians, Phrygians and Pamphilians, Libyans, Cretans, and Arabs. “In our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power,” they said in utter amazement and with some perplexity. It was even said that some thought they’d gotten up early and had a few too many cocktails over breakfast.

They were inebriated all right, but not with the Jerusalem equivalent of a bloody Mary or a mimosa, but rather they were “drunk on the divine”: exhilarated, enlivened, invigorated, and indeed animated by the very breath of God. Indeed, they had breathed in the very gale-force wind of the divine: the same Wind, the same Breath, the same Spirit that had blown over the primordial waters at the dawn of creation. The Breath of God had taken up residence in each of their bodies, which had become the very temple of Holy Spirit, but in particular the breath of God had empowered their tongues.

And the message from God they were to announce to the then-known world was simple yet profound: “God declares, in the last days it will be that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh. Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Eugene Peterson restates it this way in his paraphrase of the Bible called “The Message“: “In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on every kind of people…And whoever calls out for help to me, God, will be saved.” I’m not sure where (if anywhere) Eugene Peterson would draw the line when he puts those words “I will pour out my Spirit on every kind of people” into the mouth of God, but sisters and brothers, that is exactly the message we are still called to announce these two millennia after the first day of Pentecost.

For at your baptism, the very breath, the very wind, the very Spirit of God enlivened and animated you, filled you to overflowing and empowered you with a tongue to tell of God’s saving power, a power so great that no one is exempt, a power so strong that none can be denied nor beyond its saving reach.

Today a red banner hangs on the outside front wall of our church, bearing the simple word “Welcome” along with two rainbow flags directly beneath it. For those who know and speak the language, the message is clear: all are welcome: every color of the rainbow of humanity and in particular those whom the church and our society at large has too often excluded and dismissed as out of bounds and fallen from grace — namely the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender community. That we welcome this community is no news to us inside these walls. But to the LGBT community who this week has experienced once again the sting of justice delayed, it is hoped that the banner itself will serve as a firey tongue of flame proclaiming in their language that this is a place where they and those they love and call partner, spouse, husband, wife, are welcome and embraced. A place where the gift of marriage, like the Holy Spirit of God, is for all.

Sisters and brothers, check it out: just as surely as you are “seeing red” all around you this day, so also the gift of God’s living breath sighs through you, sings through you, prays through you, speaks through you, and lives and loves through you. Aglow and ablaze with the Spirit, your life is the flaming tongue that announces God’s inclusive love and amazing grace to all the world.  Amen.