A miracle! But... what miracle exactly?
- Bert Overbeek
- 5 jun
- 5 minuten om te lezen

Ask any believer from a charismatic Pentecostal church what exactly happened there. Chances are you will hear something about “speaking in tongues,” in mysterious, ecstatic sounds, as the oracle of Delphi once did. Incomprehensible to the uninitiated, to those who are not “in the Spirit.” But the original text does not say at all that the disciples began to babble in a heavenly gibberish. On the contrary.
Glossa simply means “language.”
The key word in Acts 2 is glossa (γλῶσσα), which primarily means tongue, but in context almost always means ‘language’, just like in English. And the context is crystal clear: there are Jews present from all parts of the Roman Empire and they hear the apostles speaking in their native languages. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Egyptians, Romans; everyone understands. So it is not a secret language, but rather intelligible communication. It is as if a group of fishermen from Galilee suddenly speak fluent Persian, Latin, and Phrygian. That was the remarkable thing about Pentecost, not some kind of outpouring of sounds known only to the initiated.
The confusion arose centuries later, when charismatic movements in the 19th and 20th centuries reinvented “speaking in tongues” as a kind of spiritual secret language. This would involve uttering sounds without syntax or meaning. But that is not what is written in Acts. Nevertheless, this phenomenon of incomprehensible divine language does come from somewhere. Just not from Judaism or early Christianity, to which Jesus also belonged.
The question is also why speaking in tongues suddenly became so important. And if it did not come from the world of Jesus, where did it come from? Let's take a look at the environments where it did originate. And then we will travel to ancient Greece and Egypt.
Examples of divine ‘secret language’ from antiquity
1. The Oracle of Delphi
In Delphi, in ancient Greece, there was a mediator between heaven and earth, the so-called Pythia, sitting on a tripod above a chasm filled with steaming gases. She fell into a trance, began to mumble, stammering sounds and sentences without logical grammar. Priests stood ready to ‘translate’ her words into poetic prophecies; exactly what happens in some Pentecostal churches. What the Pythia spoke was ecstatic, gibberish, but was considered sacred. God spoke through her, so people believed. And that was quite lucrative at the time.
2. The magical papyri of Egypt
In the so-called Greek magical papyri from the first centuries BC and AD, we find magic formulas full of sound sequences such as: “Iao Sabaoth, Adonai, Abrasax, Erelamai, Damnameneus, Anaphaxeton!”
These words are partly borrowed from the Jewish vocabulary, partly invented or inspired by sound and rhythm. The purpose? To conjure up the gods or chase away demons. Or to win back a loved one. Rarely understandable, always intended to be powerful.
3. The Gnostic hymns
In Gnostic writings (such as the Pistis Sophia or the Odes of Solomon), we find hymns in which names and sounds are not rational but symbolically charged. Sounds such as Zoxa, Thamaoth, and Iaoel form a heavenly language, not intended for human ears but for angels and aeons.
Gnosticism is currently so popular among Christian “newborns” that I would like to devote a few words to it here. Please understand that I respect everyone's beliefs and do not wish to take away anyone's faith, but I do examine things. I examine them in light of the Bible, which comes from a Jewish background but has been considerably “Hellenized” by various philosophers. This has changed it into a faith that Jesus would probably not recognize.
A few words about Gnosticism
Gnosticism revolves around obtaining gnosis. This is inner, secret knowledge that leads to spiritual salvation.
The material world is evil or illusory, created by the demiurge, a lesser deity.
The true God is spiritual and exalted above this world.
There is a divine spark within man that must be liberated.
Gnosticism seeped into Christianity early on. This was because, after the events described in the Book of Acts, the faith of Jesus was no longer preached only to Jews, but also to non-Jews. Thus, in certain circles, it quickly became mixed with Greek-Hellenistic thinking and other external influences. Gnosis already existed, but Jesus was regarded as the bringer of gnosis by certain early Christians from the non-Jewish world. He was a divine messenger who spread hidden knowledge in order to liberate the soul.
There were movements in the first centuries that mixed Christianity with Gnostic ideas. Marcion is often mentioned, but Valentinus and Basilides also belong to them. The gospels of Mary Magdalene and Thomas are products of their work. This Gnostic influence was met with a reaction that ultimately came to define Christianity, and we see traces of this in the traditional churches. With a little imagination, one could say that the inner struggle within Christianity separated spirit and letter. On the one hand, there was a movement that strictly followed the letter of the Bible, and on the other, there was a movement that began to spiritualize the text.
This may explain why Christianity contains both movements of strictness, rules, and laws, as well as movements that behave in a charismatic and Gnostic manner.
Why we find gibberish so appealing
Why would people speak gibberish in spiritual or religious contexts at all? Perhaps because ordinary language falls short. In moments of ecstasy, revelation, or deep mysticism, meaning falls apart. What remains is sound. Raw, direct, physical. As if the soul does not need grammar for a moment.
Perhaps it is also simply a matter of ego, allowing you to show that you have slightly more spiritual insight than others. This idea often creeps up on you when you see newborns from spiritual environments. It seems like a kind of competition: who will win the marathon of the spiritual world? It reminds me of Koot and Bie, who once jokingly wrote a song: ‘Our god is the best’. Hilarious.
But that doesn't explain why we later thought that Acts 2 was also such a moment of ecstasy. The mistake, as so often, comes from projection: we saw in a text from the first century the echo of a practice from our own time. And that echo sounded ecstatic. Unfortunately for many Pentecostal charismatics, Acts does not describe ecstatic gibberish. It describes a miracle of language, not a confused babble of sounds.
Finally: mystery or misunderstanding?
Is it mysterious that Galileans suddenly speak Persian? Absolutely. Is that the same as speaking in incomprehensible tongues? Absolutely not. What happens in Acts is a miracle of understanding, not of mystery. Perhaps that is where the real miracle lies: that people can suddenly understand each other. Despite all the barriers of culture, language, and religion. And that is perhaps just as necessary today as it was then. Why should we add anything to that?



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