Why are you standing there looking up?

The Ascension of the Lord

Vivian Lewin, Spiritual Director in the Diocese of Montreal


Why are you standing there looking up?”  [Here’s a link to a live recording of this morning’s service; the sermon starts just after 26 minutes)

This Sunday, just to make sure we don’t miss it, we are given two different lessons that describe the Ascension. It’s a big deal. A point of faith in our creed:

In the Apostles Creed, we say “He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead.” The Statement of Faith used by the Iona Community puts it like this: “He ascended to heaven to be present at all times to all people.”

Both these passages we have from Luke describes this episode twice (note that the Gospel of Luke and the Book of Acts are now understood to have come to us from the same author) and they tell how the disciples were present when the resurrected Christ, who had spent time with them, was then “taken up.”

But what do we do with this? To be sure, there is a rock with a supposed footprint in it, believed to be the last point on earth touched by Jesus.  It’s a holy site in Jerusalem visited by both Muslim and Christian pilgrims.  (1)

Is this literally possible? And whether or not this literally happened, what about it are we being asked to believe? And what about it is good news for us, here, this morning?

The two men in white are generally understood to be angels. And their question used to be the text of the introit for this Feast of the Annunciation.  “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up to heaven?  Alleluia.  He shall come in the same way as you have seen Him going up to heaven:  alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.  All you peoples, clap your hands, shout to God with cries of gladness.” (2)

“Why are you standing there looking up?” I spent some time with the “Why?” part of this. How are we supposed to understand this question?  Is it “asking for information,” a sort of “tell me about what you are doing,” or is it a rhetorical statement of heavenly displeasure, as in “why on earth are you picking your nose?”  or heavenly scolding?

My  basic takeaway (after I came up out of the rabbit hole of trying to get a quick crash course in rhetoric) is that I don’t have to stand gaping at my own unbelief. The call is not to understand everything, the call is to wait and see what happens next.

And indeed today’s observance of the Ascension prepares us for next week’s celebration of Pentecost, the giving or sending  of the Holy Spirit.

These accounts of the Ascension are essential to our understanding who Jesus is.  We, who have been walking with the person Jesus from his birth to his passion, who have observed joyfully, perhaps astonished, the Resurrection on Easter morning. We have come with each other and the whole church through the Easter season.  As we come today and then next week to Pentecost, we’re turning the page. We’re on to another chapter. Just as it was for the disciples. The implications, and the import of the incarnation, are revealed in the Ascension. And, like the Good News itself, they radiate out.  Because if Jesus, entirely human, during his earthly time, is taken up into the heavenly dimension, you and I, members of Christ, are, however imperfectly, carrying this same potential.  We are each part of the “Great Commission,” and we will all be empowered by the Spirit.  When Dean Bertrand discussed Benedictine spirituality two weeks ago, he described how one of the principles of the Rule is to welcome each stranger as Christ.  The life of that community… of mutual service–serving each other, and allowing God to serve each one, too, is a way of living out the patience and the joy bestowed by the holy spirit.  It would be impossible without the Holy Spirit!

I would emphasize patience, because the disciples are certainly impatient! And in both passages we see the word WAIT.

What do they–what do we–need to wait for? We can’t bootstrap ourselves into a higher dimension. What is needed is to make ourselves available to receive the promised graces including the gift of the Holy Spirit. This a gift, part of God’s will for us.  Not anything deserved or earned.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus prays for his disciples in these words, immediately before going to up the mount of Olives:

“Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed. I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world.  …Now they know that everything you have given me is from you … I am asking on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. …All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them.” (Chapter 7, passim).

This is really something, isn’t it?

The patience we’re called to, and the impatience we experience, reminded me of the Letter to the Romans (Chapter 8 vv19-23)

For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God, for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its enslavement to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labour, and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

Honestly, I can’t tell you I understand how this works, but as I read it, it clearly points to the incarnation as the key to how we are connected to Christ and to a life that is truly imperishable.

And it doesn’t stop with us humans: All creation enters into this glory:

I found this description of creation spirituality from a theologian at Duke University, Jerusha Matson Neal:

“For Jesus to become a body—in other words, to breathe and eat and be born through a birth canal—microbes, bacteria, and even DNA from all manner of creatures would have had to have been held in his flesh. This is what being “flesh” entails. When Jesus ascends to heaven, all of this creaturely life is welcomed into the throne-room of God. The ascension is anything but a creation-denying doctrine. Luke’s emphasis on Christ’s enfleshed body being lifted to God is a profound affirmation of heaven’s redemptive embrace of the entire cosmos.” (3)

With this all in mind, I want to close by bringing this all back to earth, because it got a little heady :  Many years ago, a Franciscan tertiary named Pom Pephanis taught a group of us a form of prayer given to her by a Navajo wise woman.  It goes like this, it’s very easy:  Wrap both your arms around yourself, close your eyes, rock a little from side to side, and repeat these words:  “You are God’s child.”  “You are God’s child.”  That’s one way that you can appreciate this redemptive embrace.  I invite you to try it in your own devotions.

Just imagine: a cosmic hug.  My dear people, this is Good News for sure.  Thanks be to God.

Amen


Notes:

Scripture for this Sunday: Acts 1:1-11; Psalm 47,  Ephesians 1:15-23, and Luke 24:44-53.

(1) Wikipedia gives a convenient history of this site over the years.

(2) Saint Joseph Daily Missal: The  official prayers of the Catholic Church… Completely Revised edition. New York: Catholic Book Publishing Co., 1959.

(3) Jerusha  Matson Neal in Working Preacher references works on creation spirituality by Elizabeth Johnston and  Hanna Malcolm.

Illustration: Mural of Christ ascending to heaven on a graffiti wall in Bristol, England.

 

 

Comment(1)

  1. Reply
    Sally Hezel says:

    Dear Vivian, Thank you for these good words shared out of the depth of your praying heart. My husband and I heard this sermon last Sunday when we visited Montreal (from Buffalo) and we both commented on its thoughtful content. As I shook your warm hand and looked into your eyes at the door I was a bit wistful knowing only the briefest greeting was possible. During the sermon I found myself lingering on the line “The call is not to understand everything, the call is to wait and see what happens next.” I knew what followed merited full attention I could not give and so we left to travel that afternoon on to Quebec City as I found myself wishing I could read what you wrote. And today, mirabile visa, I looked up this website and found the piece. Thank you for putting your spirit into words, shared yet again by the miracle of the internet and for the liturgy shared by your community last Sunday.

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