The Interpreter’s Pentecost
Text: Acts 2:1–21
Occasion: Pentecost Sunday
Location: St. Crucis Lutheran Church, Beacon Bay, East London
Grace, mercy and peace be to you from God our
Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Goeie more. Grüß Gott. Bom dia.
Good morning, dear brothers and sisters of St. Crucis.
I am your pastor. You know me. You know that I was born in
Brazil, that Portuguese is my mother tongue, and that I stumbled through
learning English just like some of you stumbled through my strange accent and
my, sometimes, hard to understand and receive sermons. But here we are –
together – because the Holy Spirit called me to this place and called you to be
my flock.
Today is Pentecost. And I want to tell you a story from my
own life – a story that helped me understand what the Holy Spirit is doing
here, in Beacon Bay, in this little English-speaking congregation with people
from so many different backgrounds.
Part 1: Porto Alegre, 2006 – The Assembly
The year was 2006. The place: Porto Alegre, Brazil –
my home country. The 10th Assembly of the World Council of Churches took place
there. Thousands of Christians from 150 countries –
speaking 180 different languages – gathered to pray, to argue,
to worship, and to seek unity.
I was there – not as a famous leader, not as a pastor with a
big title. I was there as a volunteer interpreter and translator. I
sat in a small booth with headphones, listening to people speak in one language
and turning their words into another language as fast as I could. English into
Portuguese. Portuguese into English. A little Spanish, some German.
Let me be honest: the first day was chaos. People talking
over each other. Headsets not working. Translators getting exhausted. At one
point, I had to interpret a long speech from a Korean pastor into Portuguese.
He spoke so quickly that I felt my heart race. I knew English, but those
accents were difficult to understand. I prayed silently: “Lord, you
made the tongues of fire. Help me now.”
And somehow – I cannot explain it – the words came. Not
perfectly. But they came. The Korean pastor’s tears became Portuguese tears.
His hope became Brazilian hope. That was my first small taste of Pentecost.
Part 2: The Communion Service I Will Never Forget
But the moment that changed me was the communion
service.
The main speaker was a bishop from Ghana. He spoke in
English. I was interpreting into Portuguese for a group of elderly Lutherans
from southern Brazil who knew no English. Then the bishop began to pray – and
suddenly he switched to Twi, his mother tongue. I froze. I do not
speak Twi. I got mute with the group.
Then something beautiful happened. A young woman from
Angola, sitting next to me in the interpreter’s booth, leaned over and
whispered: “He is saying: ‘Lord, you who made the rivers and the
forests and the ancestors of faith…’” She translated Twi into
Portuguese for me. And I translated that Portuguese into English for someone
else. And that English was then translated into German, into Korean, into Japanese.
Do you see it? A chain of interpretation. No one
person understood everything. But together – as one body in Christ – we all
heard the Gospel. The Ghanaian bishop’s prayer reached the ears of a woman from
Finland. The Spirit was doing exactly what Acts chapter 2 describes: “We
hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.”
And here is the miracle: I, the interpreter, became
the one who was interpreted for. I thought I was serving others. But
then I received the gift from that Angolan sister. The Spirit does not care
about our job titles. The Spirit flows in every direction – from the famous
bishop to the unknown woman, from the volunteer to the visitor.
Part 3: What Does This Mean for St. Crucis in Beacon Bay?
Now, dear congregation – you are not in Brazil. You are not
at a world assembly. You are a small, English-speaking Lutheran church in Beacon
Bay, East London. Some of you British background Some of you have German names.
Some of you speak Afrikaans at home. Some people in East London grew up in
Zimbabwe or Zambia and found your way here. You are not a large crowd. But
listen carefully:
Pentecost is not about big crowds. Pentecost is about one
big thing: the Holy Spirit refusing to let language, culture, or background
become walls for the Gospel.
At the first Pentecost, the Spirit did not speak in Latin –
the language of the Roman Empire, the language of power. No. The Spirit spoke
in the languages of ordinary, overlooked people: Parthians, Medes, Elamites.
The Spirit used mother tongues. Kitchen languages. The languages
people speak when they are not trying to impress anyone.
So what does that mean for you – today – in this place?
First: Your language – English – is a language of the
Holy Spirit.
But not because English is better. Because every language is
a gift from God. When you pray at home, do not use fancy religious words. Pray
the way you speak to your spouse or your oldest friend. If a German word comes
to mind – “Herr, erbarme dich” – that is fine. If an English
word comes – “Lord have mercy” – that is also fine. The Spirit
rests on every tongue. Do not be ashamed of your accent or your family’s old
language. God hears them all.
Second: You are all interpreters.
Every day, you interpret love for someone who is hurting.
You interpret hope for someone who has lost a job. You interpret forgiveness
for someone who has been betrayed. That is the work of the Spirit – not fancy
words, but faithful translation of God’s grace into the real lives of real
people. When you speak a kind word to your neighbor – even a simple “I’m sorry”
or “I forgive you” – the Spirit is using you as an interpreter of Christ’s
love.
Third – and this is the Lutheran heart – the Spirit gives
the gift of being understood before you are perfect.
At Porto Alegre, my English was not perfect. The Angolan
sister’s Twi-to-Portuguese was not perfect. But the Spirit did not wait for
perfection. The Spirit fell on the disciples while they were still hiding in
fear in that upper room. The Spirit falls on you – here, now – with all your
struggles, all your doubts, all your tiredness, all your unfinished business
with God and with one another. You do not need to clean up your life first.
Just open your mouth. The Spirit will give the utterance.
Part 4: Two Simple Things for This Week
So what do we do now? As your pastor, I invite you to do two
very simple – but very deep – things this week.
First: Thank God for the language of your heart.
Every morning this week, pray one sentence – just one – in the language that
comes most naturally to you. If that is English, say: “Lord, thank you
that I can speak to you.” If a word of German comes: “Danke,
Herr.” If a word of Afrikaans: “Dankie, Here.” That
is Pentecost in East London. Simple. Deep.
Second: Listen for the Spirit in the language of
someone you do not normally hear. Maybe a child. Maybe an elderly member of
this congregation who speaks with an accent you find strange. Maybe a lost
Brazilian pastor with strange accent and strange ideas. Maybe a foreign worker
from Mozambique or Malawi. The Spirit may be speaking through their accent. Do
not be afraid to say: “Can you help me understand what you mean?” That
is the work of an interpreter. That is holy work.
Conclusion
On the final day of the Porto Alegre assembly, all of us –
delegates, interpreters, volunteers, cooks, security guards – gathered in a
huge circle. Someone started singing the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili. Then someone
joined in Zulu. Then someone in Portuguese. Then someone in German – “Vater
unser im Himmel” – and someone in Portuguese „Pai nosso que estas
no ceu“, and someone in French “Notre Père qui es aux cieux”
It was not a choir. It was a beautiful, messy, Spirit-filled
noise. And I closed my eyes. And for one moment, I understood every word. Not
because I had learned all the languages. But because the Spirit was
interpreting love directly into my heart.
That same Spirit is here in St. Crucis Lutheran Church in
Beacon Bay today. Not in a stadium. Not with 4,000 people. But in this
small, faithful congregation – with your English, your memories of Germany,
your Afrikaans childhood, your quiet doubts, your hidden kindnesses. Because
the promise of Pentecost is for you – and for your children – and for all who
are far off – everyone whom the Lord our God calls to himself.
The wind of the Spirit is blowing. Do not be afraid. Open
your ears. Open your mouth. Open your heart.
Come, Holy Spirit. Come, Interpreter of Grace. Come, Fire
of Understanding. Fill this church. Fill these hearts. Fill KuGompo.
Amen.
Go in peace. Speak simply. Listen deeply. And remember:
even when you cannot find the right words – the Spirit is interpreting your
soul to God.
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