Learning a language is a complex process which involves learning grammar, syntax, verb tenses, noun cases, intonations, sounds and, of course vocabulary. Children manage to do it naturally (some of them actually learn two or more languages at the same time); adults may well find it even more difficult. I studied Portuguese for eighteen months before going to West Africa; it was an enjoyable but sometimes frustrating task (and I loved living in Lisbon). Since we moved to Wales Moira has been determined to learn Welsh – she’s invested a lot of time and effort in it and folk say that she’s doing very well; however she’s aware that there’s still a long way to go before she’ll be reciting poetry at the Eisteddfod!

About 120 years ago (although things had in fact been simmering under the surface for much longer) a new Christian movement was born. This was Pentecostalism – named, of course, after the Day of Pentecost which we’re celebrating today and which it sought to replicate in modern times. The Pentecostal movement was (and is) noted for its exuberant worship and its enthusiasm for evangelism: however its special emphasis is on the so-called “Gifts of the Spirit” which are listed several times in the New Testament, especially by St Paul. These include “words of wisdom” and “of knowledge”, “faith”, “gifts of healing”, “prophecy”, “administration”, 2miracles”, “helps” and “the discernment of spirits” – my list isn’t exhaustive and it’s not always clear exactly what these titles describe.

For the early Pentecostalists, though, there was one gift that stood out above all others; indeed it was seen as “the” proof (questionably in my view) that a person had received the Holy Spirit. This was the gift of “tongues”, the supernatural ability to speak in languages that one had never learned. Although critics said that the “tongues” were nothing more than gibberish, the gift was widely used in worship, with people claiming to recognise known languages in what was said – although I’m not sure how that could be checked in rural Kansas, the slums of Los Angeles, the back streets of Sunderland or a coal-mining village in Carmarthenshire, all of them centres for the new sect. Be that as it may, some folk came to believe that this “gift of tongues” offered foreign missionaries  a wonderful short-cut: no longer would they have to endure the tedium of language learning, as God would give them the words they needed when they arrived on distant shores.

So, when a gentleman in Los Angeles named Alfred Garr believed that he was speaking in Bengali, it took less than a year for him and his wife to sail for India to serve God. May Law and Rosa Pittman went to Japan expecting to preach in Japanese; when they found that no-one could understand them they moved to Hong Kong, thinking that they must have made a mistake and been given Chinese instead – they hadn’t. T.J. McIntosh was the first Pentecostal missionary to Macau and expected to speak fluent Chinese, but his hopes too were soon dashed. The Pentecostals had believed that their miraculous ability to speak languages they’d never learned would be a powerful sign of God for their hearers, leading them to accept the Christian faith. But it didn’t happen. By about 1914 even Pentecostal leaders were saying that the “gift of tongues” was, at best, a language for devotion and prayer – although they still hoped that it might be proved otherwise.

All that preamble brings me to the events of Pentecost itself, which of course didn’t take place around 1900 AD but in about the year 33, shortly after Jesus’ Ascension. You all know the story so I won’t repeat it, but you’ll realise that I want to focus on just one facet of it: the languages or “tongues” spoken by the Christians and – crucially – understood by the crowd, made up from across the Mediterranean region – that had gathered to find out what all the hubbub was about. Despite the fact that those listening came from as far apart as Rome, Egypt, Libya, Turkey and Iraq, they all heard Jesus’ followers “speaking in [their] own languages about the great things that God [had] done!”.

Let’s set the scene. As you know, the happenings recorded in the New Testament took place in the first century Near East, where many languages were spoken. Latin was the official language of the Roman Empire but many daily affairs were conducted in Greek, a legacy of Alexander the Great. Hebrew was the religious language of the Jewish people, but many Israeli Jews conversed in Aramaic. We must also remember that the Pentecost story occurred in Jerusalem, a cultural centre, at a time when pilgrims from a wide area had come for the great religious festival. So the city was a linguistic melting-pot; and many of those who heard the Christians praising God so loudly would have been fluent in two or three languages. The miracle was that they all heard this largely uneducated group of people, with a strong Galilean accent, speaking perfectly in their own native tongues. That’s what caught people’s attention and led them to seek an explanation: God was no longer remote; whoever they were, he was “one of them”.

Now language can do many things. It can show where you’re from both in terms of location and social class. A Cockney accent is very different to the King’s, and a Glaswegian sounds different to a person from Edinburgh. I was so pleased with myself when, after living for some time in East Anglia, I correctly pinpointed someone as coming from the Essex/Suffolk border! There’s more: a shared language can provide people with a strong cultural and ethnic identity, especially in times of oppression. Conversely, global languages such as English can help to bring people together and transmit news across borders and continents. And, of course, every language has its own nuances which don’t translate well but add richness to humanity: I’m thinking of words like the Welsh hiraeth and the very similar Portuguese saudade, neither of which has an exact equivalent in English; or the Danish hygge which means so much more than just “content” and “cosy”.

But language does also have its dark sides. That sense of identity can lead to exclusion, with folk saying, “You’re not one of us” or even deliberately speaking in a language that they know outsiders won’t understand; it can lead to unhealthy division or xenophobic nationalism. The language of powerful nations can be used to dominate, demean or control weaker ones, whether that be the use of English in Wales, of Chinese in Tibet or even of German in the occupied Channel Islands during World War 2. As I said earlier, there are something like 7000 languages in the world, and Christians have must ask if that is what God intended: a question which takes us to the Babel story. For here we read that, allegedly, everyone in the ancient world spoke the same language, came to believe that they were God’s equals and decided to build a tower that would reach up to heaven. God was having none of this and put a spanner in the builders’ works by “confusing their language”; they couldn’t communicate with each other and the work came to a halt. That’s the story; and Pentecost is sometimes seen as its reversal, as God turning the clock back to its correct position.

I suppose that there is some merit in that view; but (apart from the fact that the Babel story takes us back to the mists of prehistory while the Pentecost one takes place at a specific time and location) there is one huge difference between the two tales. For, while Babel begins with everyone speaking one language and finished with them speaking many different ones, the Pentecost account begins with everybody speaking different languages and ends with them … still speaking different languages! In many ways the miracle was not one of speaking but of hearing and understanding; and I believe that what God was saying was, “Listen up! No longer is my message of salvation just for the Jewish nation. Now – and as my Son told my disciples before he left the earth – it is for all people of all nations, whoever they may be”. In other words, Pentecost doesn’t so much look backwards, to Babel, but forwards: to that great and glorious heavenly multitude of people, saved by Jesus, drawn from every tribe, language, nation, and race on earth. Pentecost isn’t just about tongues of fire and one solitary speech; for, throughout the rest of Acts, the Christians engage in proclamation and mission to people of all nations – and (after a bit of prodding by God!) they don’t demand converts to become Jews but meet them with the good news of Jesus, just where they are.

All this suggests to me that, while the Christian message is universal and unchangeable, the Christian Church needn’t be monochrome or uniform. Quite the opposite, in fact: Pentecost speaks to us of “unity within diversity”, of God wanting to draw people of all nations (and, if we translate Jesus’ Great Commission correctly, that means people of every ethnic group) into fellowship with himself and each other – but not denying their rich and glorious differences. God’s Church ought to be a rich tapestry of diverse people worshipping and serving him together, it ought to be a model of love and harmony to a world which is so often divided by race, status, status or wealth. (That’s why, although I see the attraction, I’m unhappy with so-called “ethnic” or, for that matter, “youth” congregations, which cater for one specific group of people).

It’s not easy being a “mixed” or diverse congregation: there are bound to be many glitches, problems and tensions as folk from a range of cultural backgrounds and with assorted understandings of our Faith try to live together. There can be sadly misunderstandings, rows and fallings-out – these are par for the course! Yet, if we take the attitude that, despite our differences we stand before God as equals; if we are humble enough to accept that “our way of doing things” isn’t the only way; if we are willing to accept compromises and choices which we may dislike but we know will bless others; then I believe we shall succeed and be the kind of Christian community that God wants us to be. The Church in the New Testament took a long time to learn what it should be; the Church through the ages has far too often forgotten what it should be. St Paul wrote, “There is no difference between Jews and Gentiles, between slaves and free people, between women and men; you are all one in union with Christ Jesus”. Yes; we remain Jewish, Greek or whatever, but we are called to be one.

Many languages were spoken – or heard – at Pentecost; but there was only message: “Believe in the Lord Jesus and be saved”. God wants to be the spiritual Father of us all; Jesus, his death and resurrection, is the unifying factor who brings us together; the Holy Spirit is the one who lubricates our fellowship. Let us all embrace the blessings, the challenges and the richness of Pentecost – and look forward to our worship with Jesus in glory!