By Renaissance Girl

I stood behind the camera this past Sunday morning – Pentecost. The day could not have been more beautiful, the best of Cape Cod. The church was decked in red, columns wrapped, darts of fabric from place to place, red banners the length of the facade. And we were decked in red, our scapulars pulling out the color of geraniums in the flower boxes. The sun glinted off the processional cross and curls of incense floated up out of the gently swinging thurible, adding a sense of mystery to the brightness.

The words of the Pentecost story echoed off the stone in the atrium and the tower bells rang out and mingled with the rush of the fountain as the narration announced the arrival of tongues of fire!

Behind the lens, I could zoom in and witness the sunlight glistening on drops of water as the fountain burst up – or the intent expression of the thurifer leading the procession, or the looks of expectancy as the doors swung open to enter the church.

The Church – born that day – and thriving still – many members of one body. Our celebration is just a sliver of what that day must have been like – when God let loose his Spirit on earth – a living memory. As Pope Francis said on this feast day, “It is the Holy Spirit that leads us down this road, the road of the living memory of the Church….and the more generous our response, the more Jesus’ words become life in us, become attitudes, choices, deeds, witness. In substance, the Holy Spirit reminds us of the commandment of love and calls us to live it.”



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