Pentecost in West Hollywood

Yesterday was the official end of the Easter season. Pentecost, the celebration of the day on which the Holy Spirit descended upon the apostles and other disciples in the upper room, where all of them cowered after the death, and despite the Resurrection of Christ, was no different at St. Victor than at any other parish in the world.

It was, maybe, harder to get to the Church here in West Hollywood than anywhere else, at least in the United States, because the Holy Day coincided with the yearly Pride parade. Over the 30 or so years since gay pride has been marked, the city staff and we Weho dwellers have gotten good at managing the traffic, the helicopters and the crowds spending a festive day, but still getting to a scheduled Sunday service smack in the middle of it all remains a daunting effort. That is, if you take a car. I happily live within about a mile, and so I figured I'd enjoy the walk in the late morning sunshine. 

We didn't have our usual complement of servers. And the number of attendees in our already small parish was only about 40. But the guest priest made it in less time than he had anticipated, and though we did not have enough servers to process in with Crucifix and candles because of street diversions and traffic, the moment the entrance hymn played, "Come Holy Ghost", it was as always, a short 45 minutes to hear about God's revelation to us out of His relentless love.



I think, aside from the story of Thomas insisting on seeing the resurrected Christ and His wounds, the story of the Descent of the Holy Spirit on those timid, terrorized followers, is a favorite., because I am a timid follower.  Peter, who denied Him emphatically and repeatedly. The rest of the apostles, except for John, no where to be found near the Cross. They would never have left that room but for those tongues of fire from the breath of the Spirit.

God gave His physical and spiritual signs of Crucifixion, and Resurrection, and when that still did not make his disciples willing to risk their lives, He sent His Third Person to inspire with a Force we can never understand in this world, and which made them brave for the rest of their earthly existences.

And on that day, we too receive the Spirit, so that we can hear His "Peace be with you" and his soothing "Be not afraid."

It was a quiet service, much like the daily one, which is rarely attended by more than 25 people, but it was an Infusion, perhaps not as dramatic as the one 2000 years ago, but just as certain.  I may not yet be ready to leave the upper room, but at least after the service I was praying one day I might.

And then I walked back toward my apartment, stopping on the way for a salad at Gelson's. Shared a table briefly with a young woman on her Facebook page, and read about Malibu in one of those freebie magazines. I marveled at the focus and dexterity of the city workers who dismantled the various barricades  and cleaned the streets of confetti from the now winding down parade and concessions, and reopened the streets to traffic. I turned toward the uphill portion of my walk.