Pentecost 2006
by The Reverend Robert Atwell

Three weeks ago today I was worshipping in a different St Mary's, in the Frauenkirche in Nuernberg. I was half way through my holiday in southern Germany. It was a holiday full of surprises, not least discovering the rich history of the region. The city we see today is a pale shadow of its pre-war glory. Some magnificent medieval churches survived the war or were later rebuilt, and there is still a fine castle to explore, but most of Nuernberg's medieval past was lost for ever in the Allied bombing.

Of course, when most people think of Nuernberg what they think of is not its historic centre, but the vast stadium on its outskirts where from 1927 onwards Adolf Hitler held his great Nazi rallies. Indeed, I stood on the very concrete platform where Hitler himself stood as he made those terrifying speeches, whipping up the crowds into a frenzy. It was there in 1935 that the so-called Nuernberg Laws were passed which deprived Jews of their citizenship, laws which paved the way for the genocide of 6 million Jews within a decade.

Alongside the stadium stands the great unfinished conference hall designed by Hitler's architect Albert Speer. Nicknamed the Coliseum, the complex now houses a museum to Nuernberg's unhappy involvement with Third Reich. There I watched two 45 minute films, the first about the Nazi rallies themselves. Each participant, we were told, was provided with a little black hymnbook for the occasion, containing various patriotic hymns and songs which were sung with great fervour. Except there was one word missing in this hymnbook, and that word was God. This was indeed a godless place.

The second film was about the Nuernberg War Trials of the surviving Nazi leaders in 1946. The film contained interviews with the lawyers who had the unenviable task of defending those indicted with war crimes, and harrowing archive footage of the relief of the concentration camps which the defendants were made to look at in the course of their trial. What amazed me was, even in the face of such unassailable hard evidence, a number of them apparently either refused to believe that these things had actually happened, or else were completely unmoved by it.

Watching the film of the trials threw an unexpected light on one aspect of today's feast of Pentecost. Not unreasonably we concentrate on St Luke's wonderful story in the Acts of the Apostles of the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles with the wind from heaven and in tongues of flame. The image of wind alerts us to the overwhelming, unseen power of God, which as Jesus explained in his conversation with Nicodemus can bring us to an experience of rebirth. The Spirit can enable us to begin again at any time, at any age.

The image of fire, on the other hand, speaks of light and warmth. Imagine being in a cold, darkened room and watching a fire being lit in the grate. Instantly you are warmed by its heat, and as it takes off you gradually make out the shapes of the other people in the room, their faces reflected in the firelight. In the same way God gives us his Holy Spirit not only to comfort us but to enable us to see, to perceive people and things as they really are. God lightens our darkness.

But it is not St Luke's imagery of the Holy Spirit that I want to talk about this morning, but rather that of this morning's gospel. St John here describes the Holy Spirit neither as wind nor flame, but uses the term paracletos. Its an unusual Greek word which we sometimes translate literally as 'Paraclete'. It pops up in various Whitsun hymns. We usually translate the Greek word 'Advocate'.

"When the Advocate comes," says Jesus, "he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgement. . The Spirit of truth will guide you into all the truth." (John 16: 8,13)

The Greek word comes from the law courts. It referred to someone who registered a plea before a court on behalf of a client. A 'paraclete' was a legal assistant, an advocate. The Holy Spirit, says Jesus, comes to assist us in times of weakness and inadequacy, to strengthen us, and above all to lead us into truth. Lies imprison people, not only individuals but sometimes entire nations, just as the German people at the height of the Depression in the 1930s, trapped in a cycle of massive unemployment and hyper-inflation swallowed hook, line and sinker the propaganda of Hitler and his lies about the Jews.

The Holy Spirit says Jesus is an Advocate. He comes to convict the world of error and sin and judgement. The Day of Pentecost is not some sort of cosy spiritual aromatherapy session. We are opening ourselves to be disturbed as well as comforted, to having our fantasies about ourselves, about others and the world itself undermined and shattered by God. Not because God wants to hurt us or humiliate us, but because lies imprison us and destroy relationships and even nations. 'When the Spirit of Truth comes, he will lead you into all truth,' and as Jesus says elsewhere in the Gospel, 'the truth will set you free.'

One of the other things I learnt on this holiday was the extraordinary number of leading German Christians who understood just what the philosophy of the Nazis was and who had the courage to actively oppose Hitler. Just a few weeks ago in the church's calendar of saints we remembered one of the most famous, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran pastor who was executed by the Nazis because he refused to worship the god of National Socialism. But in Munich I also discovered the grave of a Catholic priest, Fr Robert Meyer, who had harboured Jews in his home and who had physically stood in the way of troops deporting Jewish children to the concentration camps. He became their advocate, for there was no one to speak for them.

Perhaps you know those harrowing words of Martin Niemoller, another Protestant pastor involved in the resistance movement in Germany. In 1945 he wrote:

"First, they came for the Communists, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, but I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Finally they came for me - but by then there was no one left to speak up for me."

Today we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit, the God who comes both to comfort us in our sadness and discomfort us in our complacency. He comes as our Advocate to release us from falsehoods and self-deceit, and to lead us into all truth. As we open ourselves to receive this gift, let us pray that we may also be given the courage to become the Advocate of the marginalized and victimized in life, lest (God forbid) the world ever turn on us, and we suddenly discover that like Martin Niemoller there is no one left to speak up for us.

© Robert Atwell, 2006