Some years ago, I regularly visited a man who was seriously ill. What made each visit memorable wasn’t just the pastoral care—it was the welcoming party that awaited me: a flock of loud, menacing geese. They would charge at me as if guarding the gates of heaven. I confess I was quietly relieved when Christmas approached, they were on death row and their reign of terror was coming to an end.
That memory came to mind at Pentecost a few weeks ago, when I came across a Celtic Christian image of the Holy Spirit—not as a gentle dove, but as a wild goose. This idea was developed in a Pentecost homily written by Fr Anthony SooHoo, SJ, who beautifully explores this ancient symbol. Unlike the serene dove in most church windows, a wild goose is noisy, unpredictable, untameable. And that’s the point. The Spirit of God isn’t always comfortable. It surprises, unsettles, and moves us beyond our routines.
A story I once heard makes the same point. In a village of ducks, every Sunday they waddled to church, waddled into pews, and listened as the duck priest read from the duck Bible. “Ducks,” he declared, “God has given you wings! You can fly! Soar like eagles!” And all the ducks shouted “Amen!”—then waddled home.
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead has been given to us—not just to comfort us, but to empower us”
It’s a funny image, but it hits home. We often say all the right things, but still waddle along in familiar, safe ways. Pentecost reminds us that faith isn’t meant to be static. It calls us to lift off—to move, change, and live with courage.
The same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead has been given to us—not just to comfort us, but to empower us. The broadcaster Art Linkletter once said the key to life is to “do a little more than you’re paid to, give a little more than you have to, try a little harder than you want to, aim a little higher than you think possible.” That’s what the Holy Spirit enables: for us to become more ourselves—more fully the people God calls us to be.
To follow Christ is to love as boldly as he did. But we don’t do it alone. The Spirit forms us into a community—the Church—where we are nurtured, challenged, forgiven, and sent. It gives us the courage to live out our baptismal promises in real and generous ways.
Even the geese can teach us something about Church—and especially about synodality. Flying in a V formation, each goose reduces wind resistance for the one behind it, allowing the flock to travel much further than any could alone. When the lead goose tires, another takes the front. And all the while, they honk—to encourage each other. It’s more than biology; it’s a parable. Synodality, a word we’re hearing more often today, means walking together—sharing burdens, taking turns leading and following, listening deeply, moving forward as one. In a Spirit-filled Church, no one is left behind, and every voice matters.
That’s the gift of Pentecost: not just tongues of fire or dramatic wind, but the steady transformation the Spirit brings—helping us build community, speak hope, forgive, heal, and encourage. To honk, if you like, in the best possible way.
In a world that prizes independence and often thrives on division, the Spirit calls us into communion. In a culture of cynicism and fear, the Spirit breathes joy and courage.
Pentecost invites us to say yes.
Yes to the wild goose.
Yes to flying instead of waddling.
Yes to living not by fear, but by faith.
The Spirit of Christ is alive in us—still speaking, still stirring, still sending us out.
May we have the courage to go where it leads.
And so, we pray……
Come, Holy Spirit
Wild and untameable Spirit,
You stir us from comfort and call us to courage.
You give us wings when we would rather waddle.
You form us into community—strengthening, supporting, and sending.
Teach us to fly together: to listen, to lead, to follow,
and to encourage one another on the journey.
In a world of noise, help us to honk with hope.
In a time of division, make us one.
Breathe your fire into our hearts,
that we may go where you lead—
boldly, joyfully, together.
Come, Holy Spirit. Amen.
Consistency
An elderly woman died recently. Having never married, she requested that her coffin should be carried by women, not men. In her handwritten instructions for her funeral, she wrote: “they wouldn’t take me out while I was alive, so I certainly don’t want them to take me out when I’m dead.”