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Since my teenage years, attending concerts has been an important part of my life. Whether at an indie club or a massive arena, I have always loved being enveloped by the sound, drawn into a deeper reality beyond my own.

I don’t believe in magic, but if anything could make me believe in it, it would be music. Music is sacred, mysterious, fun, powerful, and humbling—it encompasses all this and more. We are so fortunate to live in a world where music resonates through all of creation, and to our peril we forsake the beauty of this art.

Last weekend, I attended the greatest concert of my life—the M72 world tour featuring Suicidal Tendencies, Pantera, and Metallica. Ive never been the biggest fan of Suicidal Tendencies, and my opinion didn’t change. As for Pantera,

I never thought I would have the chance to see them live since several founding members have passed away.
However, friends stepped with the blessing of the surviving family members, allowing me to hear my favorite guitarist, Zakk Wylde, perform. He gained fame working with Ozzy Osbourne in the 1990s. It was surreal to witness 70,000 people singing in unison to songs I never thought I would hear live. It was an ordinary miracle of extraordinary proportions.

Metallica was Metallica. Forget The Beatles. Forget The Rolling Stones. I can’t forget Led Zeppelin, but let’s set them aside for the moment. Metallica is the Undisputed Greatest Band of All Time. They started as a thrash band in a small garage in San Francisco and now they are one of the top 10 selling artists of all time. Not everybody loves their music, and that’s OK.

But what surprised me last weekend was the sheer amount of diversity present in the stadium. All sorts of skin colors and ages were present. There were trans men singing alongside cisgendered women. Rich and poor raised their voices as one when they joined Metallica to close out the night by singing every word of the classic “Enter Sandman.”

Even as I was swept away by the power of the moment, sometimes losing myself in the melodies and rhythms, I never lost sight of how extraordinary it was to be just one person among a sea of 70,000 diverse faces. My own humanity didn’t disappear; instead, it transformed into something different, something more profound.

When I sang, my voice felt as powerful as the voices of 70,000, because I couldn’t distinguish where my voice ended and the crowd’s melodies began. I found myself weeping at both this beauty and the incredible sound of Kirk Hammett shredding his guitar solos on “Master of Puppets.”

This weekend, my church will celebrate the Feast of Pentecost. We celebrate the day when the Holy Spirit descended upon the disciples and, through their preaching, came to all people. This day is significant as it spotlights the radical diversity of the Kingdom of Heaven.

It is not a Kingdom of sameness, conformity, or religious purity. Instead, it is a Kingdom where people from all lands, tribes, languages, and beliefs can find their place and make their home. In my heart of hearts, and given the state of the world, I can’t help but believe that the feast of Pentecost played a role in enabling 70,000 people of different ethnicities and languages to sing together in a unified voice the words of an old rock legend who still has much to say to the world.

The Holy Spirit enables people to transcend their divisions and discover a shared humanity beneath the surface. It is the Holy Spirit that revealed to the church that everyone is equal and that no one is an outcast. The Holy Spirit stirs up churches when they become complacent, feeling as though they have all the answers. It transforms the hearts of individuals whose faith has made them closed off to the beauty of diversity and difference.

The Holy Spirit makes the Kingdom of Heaven attainable right now—not tomorrow or in the distant future, but right now. I am committed to doing everything I can to usher in the Kingdom of Heaven. And I’ll have as the soundtrack to my work the powerful sounds of Metallica, as I will never forget the exhilaration of singing my favorite songs alongside 70,000 strangers who, for one night, became my family. Let’s get unified, baby!

Chris Adams is the Rector at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Washington.