Religion: Speaking in Tongues

The early Christians were much impressed by the phenomenon known as glossolalia (literally, “speaking with tongues”), which appeared at the first Pentecost: “And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.” To the skeptical, the “other tongues” sounded like gibberish, but the faithful found special meanings in the spontaneous outpouring of sounds.

Peter saw the “gift of tongues” in a group of Gentiles as evidence that the Holy Ghost was present and they should be baptized forthwith. Paul cited it as a notable Christian gift, and though he had it himself (“I thank my God, I speak with tongues more than ye all”), he warned in his first letter to the Corinthians against letting it get out of hand. The general practice lasted into the 3rd century. Now glossolalia seems to be on its way back in U.S. churches—not only in the uninhibited Pentecostal sects but even among Episcopalians, who have been called “God’s frozen people.”

“Speaking in tongues is no longer a phenomenon of some odd sect across the street,” the Living Church (Episcopal) editorialized. “It is in our midst, and it is being practiced by clergy and laity who have stature and good reputation in the Church … Its widespread introduction would jar against our esthetic sense and some of our more strongly entrenched preconceptions. But we know that we are members of a Church which definitely needs jarring … If God has chosen this time to dynamite what Bishop Sterling of Montana has called ‘Episcopalian respectabilianism,’ we know no more terrifyingly effective explosive.”

Releasing Something Deeper. The Rev. Dennis J. Bennett, for one, is sure the explosion is on the way; last week he took up new duties in Seattle at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church as the direct result of his interest in glossolalia. London-born Father Bennett, 42, a graduate of Chicago Theological Seminary (Congregational) who later became an Episcopalian, was assigned to St. Mark’s Church in Van Nuys, Calif, in 1953. Last October he agreed to meet with some members of a fellow minister’s church who had found themselves beginning to speak in tongues. First he was surprised to find that they were neither far-out types nor emotionally unbalanced; then he discovered that he had the “gift” himself and that the experience was “enriching.”

Father Bennett brought the idea into his own parish—and began to run into trouble. Of his 2,000 parishioners, he says, some 700 developed a positive, sympathetic interest—”they included the junior warden and the chairman of the women’s guild. They were about equally divided between men and women, and there was a large number of couples. The group included a Ph.D. and a brain surgeon.” But conservative Episcopalians were shocked. In April the vestry asked Pastor Bennett for his resignation, and Bishop Francis Eric Bloy of Los Angeles sent St. Mark’s a new priest and a pastoral letter banning any more speaking in tongues under church auspices.

Father Bennett has no plans to get glossolalia going again in his new post, a small missionary church, but he “mentions” it privately to people he thinks could benefit. “The gift of tongues is a freeing of the personality in expressing one’s self more profoundly, particularly toward God, even though the symbols are not understood by the speaker. It does not happen in a trance. The person is releasing something deeper than the ordinary symbols of language.”

Doyosi Ki-i-yeno. One evening last week, in an apartment motel in Van Nuys, seven Episcopalians of Father Bennett’s former flock met together to await the coming of the Holy Spirit. Bursts of laughter from a television set across the courtyard invaded the reverent silence, but the two men and five women paid no attention, praying aloud from time to time for individuals in sickness or trouble and for “those who are resisting the out pouring of the Holy Spirit.”

Suddenly it came. “Da sheontee kono meki no sienti holay coriente no sheonte mees . . .” said one of the women in a cool, musical voice. She continued for about a minute to utter these sounds, meaningless in any known language. No one glanced up or spoke. After a minute or two of silence, she “interpreted” what she had said: “The Lord thy God says unto thee that he is here in the midst of thee . . . When you pray, fear not. He is with you always, and his love surrounds you like a fleecy cloud. Thus saith the Lord.” This was greeted by a chorus of quiet “thank-yous,” then from another voice: “Doyosi ki-i-yeno mayashi yekatona masi yano ma yenda ya kotano masiki . . .”

California’s Methodist Bishop Gerald Kennedy dismisses the movement. “In the past there have been movements of this sort, but they never did the church any good.” But Seventh Day Baptist Paul Henry, a lawyer of Fontana, Calif., speaks for many of the “spirit-filled” when he says: “It’s only my guess, but I think it may be an outpouring just before the termination of this age.”