With the Feast of Pentecost fast approaching, the daily Gospel readings have been trending towards all things Spirit-related: Jesus has been consistently preparing his apostles not only for his Ascension, but also for the arrival of this mysterious Spirit to follow.

And the Holy Spirit is a bit of a mystery. Jesus we can picture (despite how inaccurate that image might be), and at least we have a basic understanding of the concept of a Father, since all of us have one, in some form or other. But comprehending the Spirit is tricky.

I understand how important it is to call upon the Holy Spirit – for comfort, for guidance, for renewal – because Jesus says so. He even goes so far as to say that the arrival of the Spirit will be even better than his own physical presence on earth:  “But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you.” (John 16: 7). I can only imagine the apostles’ confusion, and perhaps scepticism; after all, what could possibly be better than having the living Christ in their midst?

And so, despite the ethereal nature of the Holy Spirit, whom I cannot touch, or picture, or really even compare to any human relationship I might have, I try to remember to call upon his help. I frequently recite the Come, Holy Spirit prayer, particularly before I read the Gospel, or when I’m in a situation without a clear solution:

Come, Holy Spirit,

Fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love.

Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth.

O God, by the light of the Holy Spirit, you have taught the hearts of your faithful. In the same Spirit, help us to know what is truly right and always rejoice in his consolation.

We ask this through Christ our Lord,

Amen.

But sometimes, if I’m tired or not being attentive or not in the mood, that prayer just starts to sound like a lot of words strung together in my head, without much meaning, and certainly without much intentionality in truly calling on the comforting guidance of the Holy Spirit. That’s when I go back, and re-pray, this time speaking only the verbs:

Holy Spirit:

Come.

Fill me.

Enkindle me.

Create in me.

Renew me.

Enlighten me.

Teach me.

Console me.

I don’t know if this helps me at all to comprehend the incomprehensible, or grasp the intangible, but breaking the prayer down into its simplest form does seem to help my human brain and my fumbling faith make a little more sense of the Mystery.

Holy Spirit, Come.