"Understood" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | May 19, 2024

Understood

Sermon Preached: May 19, 2024 at Trinity on the Green

Pentecost, Year B: Acts 2:1-21 | Romans 8:22-27 | John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

Between the words that I speak and the words that are heard, may God’s spirit be present. Amen.

One of the first emotional experiences we have as human beings is the experience of being misunderstood.

I’ve been thinking about this, as I reflect on the past two years of my daughter’s life. From the day of her birth up until this moment, she has had countless experiences of being misunderstood. In those early days it was the inevitable frustration when my daughter would cry, and I made the wrong guess between her two basic needs: food, and sleep. The more she has grown, the more complex her needs and wishes have become– and the more opportunities there are to be misunderstood. Suddenly it’s no longer: I need milk, or I need sleep. Now it might also be “my teeth hurt,” or “I want to go outside,” or “I need that Russian nesting doll on the top shelf of the bookcase and I need it NOW, so help me God, I need it now!”

You would think this experience of being misunderstood would start to get better when a child is learning to speak. Unfortunately, it seems like the opposite is often the case. There is nothing more frustrating to a toddler than when they repeat a word over and over again– a word that has no known meaning in the English language– and the adults in the room continue to be utterly confused and helpless. I remember what a breakthrough it was when I finally realized that my daughter’s repeated word “tikturn, tikturn!” actually meant “take turns.” Of course, then I had to acknowledge that I understood what she meant, whether that meant taking turns rolling around on the floor, or jumping on the couch, or eating some really mashed up, unappetizing banana.

One of my favorite examples of toddler incomprehensibility comes from my nephew, now two years old. At each phase of language acquisition over the past year, he has introduced some completely made up word into the vocabulary. Recently his word was “Bahkem’n’yakem”– a word that he would use with the same apparent fluency as words like “dog,” or “cat,” or “happy.” My sister would notice that he would use this word on multiple occasions– same pronunciation and everything– but the meaning behind “bahkem’n’yakem” remains a mystery. She texted me the other day to share that a new word has entered the vocabulary, “ahfahrumsit.” If anyone happens to know what “ahfahrumsit” means, please connect with me at coffee hour.

These stories of toddlers being lost in translation can be interesting and funny. But the reality is that this experience of being misunderstood doesn’t end when we grow out of our toddler phase. It follows us throughout the rest of our lives. I would guess that there isn’t a day that goes by without being misunderstood in some big or small way. Sometimes it’s the little things– like someone not hearing that you wanted extra room in your coffee for cream. But there are all kinds of other ways that we can feel misunderstood.

You can feel misunderstood, through a series of brief texts or emails, when it seems like something else is going on beneath the surface.

You can feel misunderstood when you reach out to someone, and they don’t reach back.

You can feel misunderstood, when you try to do something nice for another person but they don’t see it, or interpret it in a completely different way.

You can feel misunderstood, when someone gives you a compliment even– but that compliment doesn’t speak to the person you are, or the person you want to be.

You can feel misunderstood when you are working ridiculously hard, and it seems like no one notices.

You can feel misunderstood when someone makes assumptions about your political views, without asking you directly and bringing that part of you into relationship.

You can feel misunderstood for the things you say, and also for the things you don’t say– for your silence.

You can feel misunderstood because of the burdens you carry with you– burdens of worry, or work, or sickness, or family responsibility. These burdens may have a huge impact on how you act throughout the day, and yet others won’t necessarily see them, or know them. And again, you feel misunderstood.

So much of the grief in our lives comes from some version of feeling misunderstood. We long to be known, and accepted for who we are. We long for people to see our best intentions. We long for people to see our greatest fears, and hold us in those places where we are fragile. What a world it would be, if we could truly know and understand one another. What conflicts might be avoided? What wars might end in peace?

In the midst of this world of misunderstandings, we arrive today at the feast of Pentecost– the day that ushers in a new era for the disciples, in the days after Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension. Today we think of Eastertide as a season of joy and celebration– but for the early disciples, this was a time full of anxiety and uncertainty. The disciples feared retribution from the Roman authorities who killed Jesus. And I believe that they also feared being misunderstood. Would people believe the things that they had witnessed– that the stone was rolled away and that Jesus, reborn, had walked alongside them? Would people believe this incredible gift of grace, or would they dismiss it as foolishness; an impossibility? Jesus’ ascension doesn’t solve these problems. Instead, the disciples are still left wondering what it all meant, and how to profess their faith in a world without the physical, embodied presence of the risen Lord.

The answer to all of this uncertainty is the day of Pentecost, and the story that we hear told today in our reading from the Book of Acts. The disciples have gathered together for the Jewish observance of shavuot, or in Greek, “Pentecost.” In the Jewish tradition at the time this was a harvest festival, in which people would bring the first fruits of their crops to the Temple in Jerusalem. Gathered together on this day, the disciples experienced something unlike ever before. There was a loud sound, like the rush of wind, and divided tongues that looked like fire rested on each of the disciples. If you are having trouble envisioning what exactly that looked like, you are not alone. 

And then: the disciples begin to speak. When they talk it isn’t in their usual language, but in many different languages— and the travelers who have come to Jerusalem for the festival or for commerce, can suddenly understand the disciples who are speaking words they can understand. In many ways, this story is the inversion of the Tower of Babel story, as told in the Book of Genesis. In that story the prideful striving of human beings is thwarted by God, who makes the many builders speak in different languages so that they can no longer work together to build a tower to the sky. But in this story, the proliferation of languages isn’t a cause for chaos and confusion. Instead, these languages are the key to understanding. They are the means by which many people can hear and understand the disciples’ testimony about the death-defying love of Jesus.

Pentecost is all about moving from a place of fear and misunderstanding, to a place of connection and understanding. The vehicle for that understanding is the Holy Spirit, that force of the divine that came down in a rush like wind. The Holy Spirit is that piece of God that has never left us— the breath of God that moves through every part of our existence. The Spirit is a reminder that God knows us from the inside out. God understands us completely and still loves us completely. And if God can do that, I have hope that we can understand other people better too. I have hope that we can open ourselves to be understood by others. And in understanding one another, we are more able to love one another— as God loves us.

I believe that God is the only one who can understand each one of us completely. God speaks the language of our hearts, that language that is so specific and unique to each individual person. God knows the cadence of every language ever spoken. God understands our silences. And only God knows what “bahkem’n’yakem” and “ahfahrumsit” mean– God even understands the hearts of toddlers. While we might not understand each other perfectly, I believe it is part of the great commission Jesus gave to his disciples for us to try— try to understand. Because understanding someone helps us to love them better. Understanding enables us to live out the Greatest Commandment: to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, and mind; and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

When the disciples began to speak in other languages, people thought they were crazy or drunk. And maybe that’s how it is today too, when we try to reach across lines of difference and talk to one another. It’s so against the grain that we might seem foolish or misguided– in this world where people feel the real and urgent need to make picket signs in order to be heard. In this world where people shout across each other instead of talking with each other. But it isn’t an act of foolishness, to connect with people who are different from us. It is an act of love.

May the Spirit of God empower you to move through this world differently. To speak differently; to listen differently. May God bless us with the curiosity to understand others, and the courage to be understood. In the name of God who understands us completely, and loves us completely: Amen.