Fr. Chad Ripperger on Charismatic Movements, Tongues & the Holy Ghost | The True Pentecost
Fr. Chad Ripperger on Charismatic Movements, Tongues & the Holy Ghost | The True Pentecost
The rain over the Hudson Valley was relentless, washing against the high stone windows of Saint Jude’s traditional chapel in long, grey sheets. Inside, the air smelled intensely of beeswax, old cedar, and cold incense. It was a Monday afternoon, and the world outside was caught in the frantic, digitized blur of May 2026. Inside the chapel, time seemed to slow to a crawl, measured only by the steady, amber glow of the sanctuary lamp.
Father Thomas sat in the dark wood confessionals, his head resting against the screen. He was forty-five, a priest whose life was bound by the precise rubrics of the old Latin liturgy. For Thomas, truth was a static, flawless fortress built by centuries of dogma. Lately, however, his fortress had felt besieged. The diocese was pushing for a massive, modern “Renewal and Awakening” seminar to be hosted in his parish—a weekend filled with acoustic guitars, emotional group healing sessions, and layout designs that looked more like corporate workshops than the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
The heavy oak door at the back of the chapel clicked open. The sound of wet boots echoing off the flagstones broke the silence.
Thomas stepped out of the confessional and watched a younger priest, Father Julian, walk toward the altar. Julian was thirty-two, the newly appointed diocesan director for evangelical outreach. He was energetic, wore a tailored black cassock with no surplus fabric, and carried an iPad tucked under his arm. He represented the new wave of clerical orthodoxy—intense, media-savvy, but deeply enamored with charismatic movements.
“I figured I’d find you here, Thomas,” Julian said, his voice bouncing cleanly off the vaulted ceiling. He stopped at the communion rail, looking up at the high altar. “The bishop wants to know if you’ve approved the scheduling for the charismatic seminar next month. The team needs the space cleared from Friday to Sunday.”
Thomas stepped into the aisle, his hands tucked into his sleeves. “I’m still reviewing the materials, Julian. And to be frank, I have serious reservations. The promotional videos show people collapsing on the floor, weeping incoherently, and claiming to experience a ‘Second Pentecost.’ It looks less like Catholic worship and more like mass psychological suggestion.”
Julian smiled, a warm, confident expression. “It’s about reviving the fire of the early Church, Thomas. Pentecost wasn’t a dry academic seminar. It was a disruptive, emotional, supernatural breakthrough. We need that same Holy Ghost energy to break through the modern indifference of the suburbs. We are praying for a new Pentecost.”
“Then you are praying for something structurally impossible,” Thomas said, his voice dropping into a firm, deliberate register. “Pentecost was a unique, singular historical event. It happened once, and it will never happen again.”
The True Foundation
Thomas walked toward the front pew and sat down, motioning for Julian to join him. Julian sat, placing his iPad on the polished wood between them.
“Think about what Pentecost actually achieved, Julian,” Thomas began, his eyes fixed on the altar. “The primary, most principal effect of that infusion of the Holy Ghost upon the apostles and Mary was the founding of the Catholic Church. While Christ was on earth, He laid the groundwork, but His references to His church were always in the future tense—’Upon this rock, I will build my church.’ Notice he said a church, not churches.”
Thomas turned his head to look directly at the younger priest. “This means that for God, there is only one church—the Catholic Church—which enjoys absolute divine rights over the deposit of faith and the administration of the sacraments. Anyone who attempts to employ or manipulate those sacraments outside of her visible structure and authority does so contrary to justice. They violate the rights of the magisterium.”
“Of course I believe in the magisterium,” Julian countered smoothly. “But the charismatic gifts—the charisms—are also part of the Church’s heritage. St. Paul talks about them extensively.”
“They are,” Thomas replied. “But look at the second effect of that singular Pentecost: a perfect, unblemished understanding of the deposit of faith was infused directly into the minds of the apostles. Before that moment, they were in a constant state of confusion about what Christ taught. They kept asking about earthly kingdoms; they argued about who was the greatest. But the moment the Holy Ghost descended, they instantly understood the exact spiritual reality of Christ’s mission. That personal infallibility was given to each apostle so they could accurately propagate and protect the doctrine. It wasn’t given so people could invent new private revelations every weekend.”
The Impeccable Testimony
The rain drummed louder against the stained glass, casting deep blue and purple shadows across the stone floor.
“And it wasn’t just an intellectual gift,” Thomas continued, his voice steady and precise. “God gave the apostles the exact virtues necessary to protect that deposit. He gave them the gift of fear of the Lord, turning them completely away from created things and toward Himself. More than that, they were confirmed in grace. Most traditional theologians agree that after Pentecost, the apostles would never commit a mortal sin, and some argue not even a venial one.”
Julian raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very high standard of perfection, Thomas. We are all sinners.”
“Their character had to be impeccable,” Thomas argued, leaning forward. “The credibility of their testimony depended on it. Human beings have a natural, built-in inclination to ignore or distrust those who are sinful, hypocritical, or loose with the truth. If the apostles were going to convince the pagan Roman world to abandon their gods and die for a crucified carpenter, their moral character had to be beyond reproach. God gave them infused fortitude so they would have perfect confidence to suffer and die. He gave them intuitive understanding to grasp the articles of faith without agonizing doubt. And He gave them wisdom—the ability to contemplate creation from God’s own perspective, to see God the way He sees Himself.”
Thomas gestured toward the pamphlets Julian had brought. “Look at what happens today. Every level of society, and even segments within the Church, are constantly trying to pollute the teachings of God with their own subjective ideas. People are desperately trying to remake God in their own image so they can feel comfortable in their vices and condone their own sins. The true gifts of the Holy Ghost fight against that comfort. They reveal God as He truly is, helping us see the exact supernatural means required to save our souls.”
The Illusion of Tongues
Julian tapped the screen of his iPad, bringing up a video testimonial from the renewal movement. “But Thomas, what about the gift of tongues? We see everyday people in these prayer groups speaking in languages they don’t know, praising God. How can you call that polluted?”
“Because there is an immense, dangerous confusion about the gift of tongues today,” Thomas said, his face tightening. “St. Thomas Aquinas teaches clearly in the Summa Theologiae that these phenomena are gratiae gratis datae—graces gratuitously given. They are purely extraordinary gifts that God distributes solely according to His will for the objective good and upbuilding of the Church. You cannot merit them. You cannot ‘pray’ for them into existence through group pressure or emotional hype. Those who think they can attend a seminar and learn how to speak in tongues are fundamentally mistaken.”
Thomas stood up, walking to the center aisle, his eyes tracking the dim architectural lines of the chapel. “And here is the crucial point that these modern movements ignore: having one of these extraordinary gifts is not a sign of personal sanctification. It is not a proof of holiness, nor is it a stamp of God’s approval on your lifestyle. In fact, upon close scrutiny, most modern claims of tongues fall apart completely.”
He stopped and turned back to Julian. “I remember a case involving a formal diocesan linguist who was invited to attend one of these large charismatic revival meetings. When the congregation began to erupt into collective ‘tongues,’ the priest stood up and walked out of the building. When someone followed him out to ask why he was leaving so abruptly, the linguist replied that he had recognized one of the ancient dialects being shouted in the room. The person speaking it wasn’t praising God; they were actively cursing Christ and praising Satan.”
The silence in the chapel grew heavy, punctuated only by the distant roll of thunder.
“Satan can easily move human vocal cords to speak languages the person has never learned,” Thomas warned, his voice low and solemn. “Father Jordan Aumann, one of the finest spiritual writers of our age, warned that a soul can easily come under demonic power through the uncontrolled desire to experience extraordinary mystical phenomena or to receive charismatic graces. When other objective linguists attend these modern meetings, they don’t find ancient languages—they find absolute gibberish. And gibberish cannot honor God.”
The Absurdity of the Extraordinary
Julian stood up, walking over to the communion rail, his expression turning defensive. “Thomas, you’re looking at the worst-case examples. Many people say they don’t understand what they’re saying, but they feel an overwhelming interior peace—they feel ‘slain in the Spirit.’ It changes their lives.”
“Think about the mechanics of human nature, Julian,” Thomas countered, his voice cutting through the space. “God designed human beings with intellect and volition. He desires intelligent, free worship. Why would an infinitely wise God take a rational human instrument and force it to do something completely absurd, like jabbering incoherently in public? How does an exhibition of irrational babbling bring glory to the Creator of human intellect?”
He stepped closer to Julian. “And this applies directly to being ‘slain in the Spirit’ and all the other dramatic nonsense we see on social media. If you look closely at the psychological mechanics of being ‘slain,’ it bears a terrifyingly close similarity to mass hypnotism and demonic possession. If the person speaking or falling doesn’t understand what is happening to their own body, how can they be certain it isn’t demonic? They say they ‘feel the spirit.’ But St. Paul warns that Satan can masquerade as an angel of light. He can easily manipulate your appetites and sensible consolations to make you feel comfortable while steering you away from sober reality.”
Thomas leaned against the dark wood of a choir stall. “This is why St. John of the Cross—perhaps the greatest mystical doctor in the history of the Church—explicitly instructs souls to avoid seeking extraordinary consolations or emotional experiences. They are never a reliable principle of judgment for God’s approval. In fact, St. John says that if God does send emotional consolations, it is actually a sign of our profound spiritual imperfection. God has to use spiritual sweets to coax us along because we are too weak to follow Him in the dark. A well-trained dog does a trick without needing a snack every single time. An advanced soul has no need for emotional highs; its will is perfectly fixed on God in total, quiet obedience.”
“But they claim to have interpreters, Thomas,” Julian argued, his voice rising slightly. “They claim the messages are verified within the group.”
“That is merely giving testimony on one’s own behalf,” Thomas said flatly. “Before I trust anyone regarding the gift of tongues, I want a verified linguist present who can identify the language by formal study or native upbringing. Anything else is dangerous subjectivity. Historically, the last major group to go around praying for these gifts and speaking incoherently were the Montanists in the second century—and their heresy was decisively condemned by the early Church.”
The Three Authentic Forms
Thomas walked up the altar steps, pointing to a stained-glass window depicting the descent of the Holy Ghost as tongues of fire.
“The authentic gift of tongues given at Pentecost was entirely different from the chaos of modern revivals,” Thomas explained. “The Church Fathers and the Doctors of the Church tell us it manifested in three distinct, rational forms:
The Gift of Mastery: The apostles were given the sudden ability to fully grasp and speak a foreign language to at least the level of their own native tongue. They knew exactly what words they were choosing and what those words meant.
The Miracle of Hearing: The apostle would speak in his own native Galilean dialect, yet a diverse crowd of Parthians, Medes, and Elamites would each hear the words in their own native languages simultaneously. This allowed a single teacher to instruct thousands at once without confusion.
The Foreign Praise: A Christian would be moved to vocalize a structured, beautiful prayer of praise to God in a real, verifiable foreign language they had never studied, serving as a sign to unbelievers.
“Even St. Paul laid down strict, unbendable rules for this gift in First Corinthians,” Thomas continued, turning back to Julian. “He explicitly stated that tongues must never be used with large crowds jabbering incoherently all at once. He said it must be done by two or three at most, each in turn, and only if there is a verifiable interpreter present. If there is no interpreter, Paul commands them to keep silent in the church. And an interpreter isn’t someone who listens to gibberish and invents an ephemeral meaning based on an interior impression; an interpreter is someone who actually knows the objective language.”
The Modern Illusion
Julian leaned his hands on the communion rail, looking down at his iPad, which had gone dark. “If you completely shut down these movements, Thomas, people will say you’re extinguishing the spirit. They think these charismatic renewals are a necessary second Pentecost for our times. Even some theologians have tried to frame the pastoral shifts of the Second Vatican Council as a modern Pentecost.”
Thomas’s expression darkened, his voice taking on a rare, sharp edge of righteous anger. “To equate a modern pastoral council with Pentecost is tantamount to blasphemy, Julian.”
Julian blinked, startled by the severity of the word. “Blasphemy?”
“Yes,” Thomas said firmly, stepping down the altar stairs. “It is analogous to equating a common, everyday woman with our Blessed Lady. To take a council that was marked by intense human infighting—where bishops argued bitterly over cultural issues—a council that has left a trail of profound confusion in the minds of the faithful, regardless of how orthodox of a spin one tries to put on the text… to take an event that has historically coincided with a catastrophic collapse in mass attendance, a flight of vocations, and a decline in practicing Catholics, and place it on the same sacred level as the primordial foundation of the Church? That is a profound disrespect for what is truly sacred.”
Thomas stood directly in front of Julian, his gaze unyielding. “Pope Paul VI himself explicitly stated in the closing sessions that Vatican II did not employ the charism of dogmatic infallibility. To elevate it to the level of Pentecost—where the infallible structure of the Church was birthed by God Himself—is an insult to divine providence. And the same applies to these modern movements. To claim that a parish needs a ‘New Pentecost’ is to argue that the original Pentecost wasn’t sufficient. It implies that the Holy Ghost failed to establish a durable house, and that we need a modern, emotional upgrade to fix it.”
Fidelity Over Novelty
The storm outside had finally begun to pass, the heavy downpour transitioning into a quiet, steady drip against the gutters. The light inside the chapel remained unchanged, focused entirely on the gold tabernacle.
“The true Pentecost established everything the Church will ever need until the end of time,” Thomas said softly, his anger cooling into a deep, pastoral conviction. “The Holy Ghost has not gone anywhere, Julian. He did not abandon the Church in the twentieth century, and He hasn’t left her in 2026. He is still present inside the visible structure of the Catholic Church, constantly offering His quiet, infallible guidance to the magisterium under strict traditional conditions. He is still pouring out sanctifying grace, virtues, and the true fruits of the Spirit into the souls of the faithful through the ordinary channel of the sacraments.”
Julian looked at the altar, his posture relaxed, the defensive tension completely drained away. “But you see the state of the world, Thomas. You see the empty pews. The moral life of the culture has collapsed, and even within our own ranks, the clarity of the faith seems fractured. People are desperate for a solution. That’s why they flock to these emotional movements.”
“The collapse doesn’t happen because the Holy Ghost has stopped working,” Thomas said, placing a gentle hand on Julian’s shoulder. “It happens because the individual members of the magisterium and the faithful are not being faithful to the graces they have already been given. Fidelity to the grace of your state in life is what changes history—not emotional novelty.”
Thomas pointed toward the tabernacle. “The members of this parish do not need a new Pentecost. They do not need to fall on the floor or speak in code to find God. What we need is for the bishops and priests to teach the deposit of faith clearly, with one ancient voice, and to execute their offices with absolute holiness. We need a faithful adherence to the true Pentecost that already occurred, and a quiet, daily surrender to the quiet graces that are being offered to us right now.”
Thomas turned back toward the altar, folding his hands. “Next month, we will host a traditional parish mission. We will have extended hours for confession, silent Eucharistic adoration, and rigorous catechesis on the virtues. We will give them the bread of truth, Julian, not the sugar-water of emotionalism.”
Julian looked at his dark iPad, then back up at the high altar. He remained silent for a long time, listening to the quiet drip of the rain outside, before slowly nodding his head in agreement.
“Alright, Thomas,” Julian said quietly, his voice carrying a newfound note of respect. “Let’s clear the schedule for the mission.”
Thomas smiled gently, stepping back into the shadows of the confessional to prepare for the evening penitents, secure in the knowledge that the ancient fortress of the faith did not need to be rebuilt—it only needed to be lived.
