When Pentecost day came round, they had all met together, when suddenly there came from heaven a sound as of a violent wind which filled the entire house in which they were sitting; and there appeared to them tongues as of fire; these separated and came to rest on the head of each of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak different languages as the Spirit gave them power to express themselves.
I think I can safely say that this is my favourite scene in the whole Bible, even more than the Nativity or the Last Supper or the Annunciation or any of the other scenes that have provided such endless material for artists, writers, contemplatives and ordinary people over the centuries.
The Descent of the Holy Spirit is my favourite mystery of the Rosary, too.
I love the energy and ecstasy of the scene, but I also love the togetherness. The entire embyro Church is there, together, in the Upper Room.
If I had a private chapel (ha!), I would have a mural or mosaic or wall-hanging using this as the subject-matter. But, funnily enough, I've never been able to find a painting or a picture of the Descent of the Holy Spirit that satisfies me, or even nearly satisfies me. Nothing seems to convey the appropriate 'shock and awe'-- every picture I've seen is far too subdued.
On this Pentecost Sunday, I dedicate this blog to the Holy Spirit, and humbly hope that it might in some way help to spread His sacred fire.