God Keeps His Promise: A Pentecost Art Reflection on the Advocate Who Dwells Within

Pentecost by Jean Restout, c. 1732. (Photo: Public Domain/Wikimedia Commons)

It is easy to be caught off guard by Pentecost. If I don’t check my calendar before Mass, I often walk in wondering why the priest (and the A+ parishioners) are wearing red. Like many of our Holy Days, Pentecost is an annual checkup, if you will. Does Christ come to find me waiting and praying like the disciples, or hiding in a room as though he were never raised from the dead at all?

Pentecost is also the beginning of our Church’s public ministry! It’s where the division and confusion caused by the Tower of Babel came crashing down, and instead, the Spirit came to build up the Church in unity and clarity of purpose. Keeping this in mind, there are two questions we should ask ourselves this time of year: Have I been a part of the Church’s mission? Where can I allow the Holy Spirit to be more active in my life?

If I were to hand you a brush and some paint and tell you, “Create an image of the Holy Spirit descending upon the apostles and the Blessed Virgin Mary,” how would you go about it? Many have tried, and each attempt has been at best a guess. No one knows what the event actually looked like.

While they were certainly not inside a grand church when it happened, this depiction by Jean Restout is one of my favorites. It speaks more to the birth of the Church and her future than it does to the actual room they were all praying in. Meditating upon this scene is a lovely exercise for the imagination. How bright were the tongues of fire? Were their faces in a state of shock, or was it more akin to ecstasy? Were they speechless or jumping with joy? We will never know until we are face to face with them in Heaven, but we can gain quite a bit by spending time meditating on it.

Looking online for an image of Pentecost can feel like trying to pick a flavor when you go out for gelato. Take your pick: Do you prefer Mary to be present, or just the men? Would you like them to be in a small room or a grand church? Do you like the flames to look like fire, or beams of light? Maybe an Eastern icon packed with symbolism about the event over a classical Western depiction with all the grandeur one can muster? At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter; they all say the same thing: God comes to each one of his people and gives us a helper, a paraclete, the Holy Spirit, as he promised.

In his farewell discourse in John 14:26, Jesus says to his disciples, "But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you." I don’t know what they expected when they heard Jesus speak the name Holy Spirit, but I think it’s safe to assume that fire and miraculous language acquisition were not at the top of their minds.

In Restout’s rendition of the event, everyone but Mary looks alarmed. The faces run the gamut of human response, from Mary’s calm certainty to those who look completely surprised. Some prostrate in pleading prayer while others are bowing their heads in honor. Although the scene is anything but ordinary, the range of responses is completely ordinary, and it is Mary, perfectly positioned in the center, who draws our focus. The artist has masterfully led our eyes through her so that we find ourselves contemplating the action of the Holy Spirit. This guided gaze is a quiet testament to Mary’s vocation as Queen Mother, always pointing us to the King.

One common attribute in Pentecost images is the ubiquitous flames above everyone’s head. As St. Luke writes in Acts 2:1-4, “When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly, a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from Heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.” I suppose God could have rested upon them in any manner of ways. The wind could have been gentle and soft. The flame could have been set at the center of the room, illuminating everyone from a safe distance. But God, in his divine intentionality, chose otherwise. Everything he does is with purpose.

At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit did not descend as an abstract idea; he came in a very specific, particular way. Tongues of fire rested upon each of them (Acts 2:3), signifying that the gift of the Spirit is personal, not generic. He comes to each of us, not as an impersonal force, but as Advocate, Comforter and Guide. The Greek word we sometimes translate as advocate can also be interpreted as defense lawyer — we must each answer for what we have done and failed to do in this life. And so, the Paraclete is not just the Helper — He is my Helper. He is not just the Spirit — he is the Spirit who dwells in me. I believe the Lord inspired this image for our time. The Church today needs to remember that the Holy Spirit does not remain at a distance; he rests upon us and within us, empowering us to live and to witness as sons and daughters of the Most High.

May we all open our hearts and lives to the gifts and graces the Father has given us in his Son through the Holy Spirit.