One of the key themes of the Acts reading this week (Acts 2:1–21) is unity. In this instance, it’s manifested in the overcoming of language barriers, but it points to something much deeper and more ancient. The passage introduces this international crowd with an acknowledgment of the unity they already share, describing them as “devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.” Their devotion holds them together in a shared identity, even as they gather from across the world.

The passage even begins with an image of unity: “When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.” They - the disciples - were all together. The gospel reading echoes this same point but takes it even further, revealing a oneness that transcends merely human relationships: “Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me,” says Jesus, before going on to say, “the Spirit of truth… abides with you, and he will be in you.” We, like Jesus, are one not only with each other, but with God theirself — who, in the fullest sense, exhibits an eternal existence of unity (self) in plurality (their), and plurality (their) in unity (self). Pentecost, then, seems not so much the moment a new unity is created, but the moment a fundamental unity is revealed — a unity that has always been there, though easily overlooked or forgotten.  This isn’t to pretend differences don’t exist — only to say that beneath them, there’s something even more foundational. It’s easy for us to make the same mistake — to think there is division when there is, in fact, deeper oneness. Whether in questions of denomination, nationality, gender, or anything else, it seems to me that so many of the difficulties we face in the world around us arise when the differences we perceive loom larger than the deeper truth beneath them: that we are all part of one human family, made in God’s image, and every individual is united to every other through Christ and in God. What would happen if we remembered that instead? Might we find it easier to recognise common ground, a common language, and to share more freely in the flowing of the Spirit — that same Spirit who brings love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and all the rest? Might it be that what is revealed at Pentecost is what has been here all along — the Kingdom of God itself, in our midst? And the marvellous thing is that every time we let ourselves live into that deeper truth — into the reality of our shared life in God — it becomes easier for others to see it, too. So that they might begin to live it for themselves. And as that happens, over and over again, in love and joy and hope, the world itself begins to be remade — a cycle of love and recreation through which all things might be reconciled through Christ to the God who creates, sustains, and loves them. And isn’t that, really, the point of it all?