The presence of the wild, Holy Spirit and the rise of another revolution

Days ago, Christians gathered in Churches around the world and chanted a summons to the sweet, Holy Spirit.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Days ago plus today and tomorrow, we fill(ed) the streets with chants of lament and outrage. We pray, we chant. We cry for raids to end. We risk arrest while neighbors and friends— blessed immigrants and people of God— disappear, are caged, deported.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.

We breathe in and out, lungs expanding, deflating, expanding.

Hearts beating, blood flowing. Hard hearts softening. As we sing, the longings of our hearts pour out with our praise, with our hopes and needs, with our fears and desperation. We are still singing the song.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.

We plead for protection and for the graces to navigate the tyranny and torment, where we find ourselves. We know we need the Spirit and each other, that peace is only made through communion.

We are hungry, starving. We starve for healing and peace, for stability and salvation, for the protection of all sacred dignity. The ache of our souls swirls into one loud groan, a prayer for the Holy to remake us and define us.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.

Speaking of souls, Parker Palmer tells us:

“The soul is like a wild animal—tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek.”

Precious wildness, that’s our soul.

Precious wildness, that’s our world.

Precious wildness, that’s the Spirit we summon.

The Spirit that arrived long ago. The Spirit that is coming, and the Spirit is still on her way. She is here, with us, stirring up good holy trouble, fierce and mighty and also gentle, shy.

Precious wildness, that’s our soul.

Precious wildness, that’s our world.

Precious wildness, that’s the Spirit we summon.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.

This wild, holy Spirit who stirs us into conversion— both spiritual and social— she is causing souls to transform, communities to expand, and boxes and walls to break down. She doesn’t let us settle for comfort or canyons, those crappy canyons that disturb and divide us into camps of red vs. blue, black vs. white, me vs. you.

Precious wildness, she makes us into a “we,” a holy we, a community of Christ. A Body bonded into One to stand with the oppressed, the rejected. The beatitudes become our song as we mourn, feed, and suffer for the sake of what’s right and holy and true. We step to the other side, we befriend our neighbors. We love and listen and learn, breathing, singing.

Veni Sancte Spiritus.