Wicker Park Lutheran Church
Rev. Jason S. Glombicki
May 24, 2026
Pentecost did not arrive quietly. It crashed onto the scene. We heard of wind, noise, fire, and voices everywhere. And before anyone understood what is happening, people were bewildered. Because the Spirit arrived first. And the people asked, “What does this mean?” And, I love that question because it feels so honest. After all, nobody in Acts said, “Ah yes, this is all unfolding exactly as expected.” No. They were overwhelmed, confused, amazed. Some were curious. Some were skeptical. Some began mocking what they did not understand, saying: “They are filled with new wine.”
And honestly, bewilderment is not hard to find right now. Earlier this week, three people were killed in an attack at the Islamic Center in San Diego. Authorities are investigating it as a hate crime. It’s another act of violence fueled by fear. Another moment where people who were different became people to fear instead of neighbors to love. And our Presiding Bishop was right to say plainly that “anti-Muslim hatred is antithetical to the Christian faith.” Because hatred always begins by refusing to hear another person as fully human. It is always easier to caricature people than to listen to them. Easier to mock than to understand. Easier to fear difference than to stay open to it.
And that is not new. It was sitting right there at Pentecost too. Because Pentecost was not nearly as sentimental as we sometimes make it. This is not a cute story about everyone getting along. This is a moment of disruption. The crowd hears all these different voices, all these different languages, all these people speaking in ways they do not expect—and some people are amazed while others immediately become defensive.
But here is what strikes me most about this story: the Spirit does not erase difference. The Spirit creates understanding across difference. And that matters. After all, the Parthians remained Parthians. The Egyptians remained Egyptians. The Arabs remained Arabs. Now, God could have chosen one holy language for everybody to speak. But, instead, the Spirit spoke in every direction. Voices were overlapping. Accents colliding. Heads turning as people tried to understand. And that means Pentecost is not about sameness. It is about belonging. It is about a Spirit powerful enough to hold people together without erasing who they are. And it is all because, the Spirit was already moving.
And, I think the church struggles with that sometimes. Because difference is hard. Different languages. Different bodies. Different experiences. Different histories with church. Different needs. Different ways of moving through the world. We often say we welcome everybody, but too often what we really mean is: everyone is welcome as long as they function like the people already here.
But Pentecost disrupts that. As the author recalled, the prophet Joel says the Spirit is poured out on all flesh. All ages. All genders. All socio-economic statuses. Which means nobody gets to decide ahead of time whose voice God may speak through. The Spirit keeps widening the circle beyond what people expected.
And maybe that is why this Pentecost feels especially meaningful for us this year. Because last weekend we celebrated something beautiful together. We celebrated an elevator, an accessible staircase, an ADA restroom, pew cut-outs for wheelchairs, our restored Rose Window, and new lower-level windows that allow us to see more clearly—and allow the neighborhood to see more clearly into us. And yes, those are construction projects. But they are also theological statements. You see, a building can proclaim the gospel before we ever say a word. That’s because architecture teaches theology. And what this building is now saying more clearly is this: there is room for you here. Not someday. Not once you become someone else. Not once you learn the “right” church language. Not once you hide your needs. Rather, right now, as you are, you are welcomed here.
That’s because our ribbon cutting was not the ending. It was a beginning. Because accessibility is not only about buildings. It is about transformation. About becoming a congregation that learns new languages of belonging. And I do not just mean spoken languages. I mean learning to listen to experiences we do not personally carry. Learning to slow down enough for one another. Learning to make room for different bodies. Different minds. Different griefs. Different joys. Different ways of being human. Because Pentecost is the Spirit teaching the church how to understand people in the languages of their actual lives. And, the disciples did not know how to do this. They were not prepared. They did not have a strategic plan. (Which, honestly, feels comforting, and would probably make church meetings shorter.) They did not fully understand what God was doing. That is because the Spirit arrived first.
And often the Spirit still does that today. Before the church knew how wide grace is for people of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, the Spirit was already widening it. Before women were approved for ordination, the Spirit was already widening it. Before the church could get its act together to care for immigrants and refugees, the Spirit was already making room for those on the margins. You see, the Spirit arrived first.
And that is what we are practicing even today. We heard scripture proclaimed by many voices. And in a few moments, we will move from font to cross to table to fire. And we will pray in many languages. Then, we will gather at one table. With one Spirit. Many voices. One Christ. Many stories. One bread. Many lives. Not because we are all the same. But because the Spirit of God is wide enough to hold us together in love.
And so, on this Pentecost Sunday, maybe that is the invitation. Not to become less different. But to become wide enough to hear one another as beloved. To open more than doors. To open imagination. To trust that God may speak through voices we did not expect. And to believe that difference is not a threat to the church. For the Spirit always arrives first, before we’re aware and before we’re ready. So, together we say, “Come, Holy Spirit.” Come, widen our welcome Come, show us your ways of love. Come, for we know that you’re already at work. Amen.