Luke
is a culturally Greek follower of Jesus, writing for a culturally Greek
audience.
If
you lived in that world, and you needed to make a big decision, a decision that
either way would change your life, and especially any decision that would
impact upon other people, you would first go and seek guidance from the Oracle
at Delphi. There, the Pythia (priestess) would enter the inner chamber, sit on
a special seat, and breathe in the spirit of Python. In a trance state, she
would utter oracles, foretelling the future in intelligible but ambiguous
sentences.
When
Luke recounts the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, he describes the
event in such a way as to make the explicit claim that the Church — wherever it
was found — was the new Delphi.
Two
thousand years later, we still seek oracles to help us make significant
decisions. Baby Boomers tend to take counsel from trusted family members or
friends. Generation X (their younger selves would be amazed to hear) are most
likely to seek the advice of an expert (including podcasts). Millennials, many
of whom describe themselves as ‘spiritual, not religious,’ advocate meditation
and mindfulness, and voraciously consume self-help books. Generation Z, the
youngest adults, look to Web 2.0 content creators and social media influencers,
with a marked and growing divide between young women — largely left-leaning and
environmentally aware — and young men — in large numbers turning to the right,
and influencers who argue that feminism has destroyed society.
Whatever
our preferred source of counsel, we are all prone to confirmation bias. In this
regard, too, we are no different from our ancestors. The oracles were
notoriously ambiguous and interpreted according to the supplicant’s own desire.
The legendary king Croesus enquired of the Pythia whether he should go to war
with his neighbour. On being told that if he crossed a certain river he would
destroy a great empire, he took this as a good omen, only to have his army
defeated and his own great empire destroyed. The oracle was both an accurate
and ambiguous foretelling. All too often, we suffer a similar fate, at our own
hand.
In
depicting the Church as the new Delphi, Luke foretells a community where the
Spirit of God speaks in intelligible utterances that are weighed by men and
women, youth and old age, together, as the best guarantor of not falling into
the trap of Croesus. This takes us beyond our own generational, or gendered,
preferences, into a more rounded discernment, as we recognise the gift that God
has given to each one, as God sees fit.
Too
often, my own charismatic evangelical tradition has determined what to do and
sought the Holy Spirit to baptise our own interpretation. Whereas God, being a
god who speaks but who does not coerce or violate human will, most often speaks
in ambiguous, rather than deterministic, utterances. And then invites us to
bear witness to what unfolds.
The
crowd gathered at Pentecost, who heard the great things of God declared in
their own native languages, asked, ‘What does this [utterance, phenomenon]
desire to be?’ What does the future that is being foretold wish to become? This
is less a question seeking definite knowledge and more a question paying
attention to whatever will unfold.
What
would it look like in practice for the local church to be such an
attention-paying community of prophetic priests and priestesses available to
the wider communities in which we are set? To be the new Delphis?
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