John's story of Pentecost seems better suited for a time other than our own. It is so quiet in the telling that it hardly slows us up. No need for camera crews here, nor even a newspaper reporter. No need for police to hold the crowds back, nor attendants to help us find parking spaces. There is no massive display of unleashed energy. There are no sounds as of rushing wind and no tongues as of fire. No sermon, no baptisms, no "wonders and signs." It is like the slightest ripple of water rather than a tidal wave; like the gentlest movement of air rather than a hurricane. It takes special care to even notice it.

Maybe we cannot be blamed for feeling a bit disappointed at the way John tells it. The story of Pentecost after all is a story of power. It records the moment when the risen Jesus g…