Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Randy Greve, OHC
Ascension day C - May 26, 2022
If we decide to hyper-literalize, then we have to ask: What did the disciples see? Where did Jesus go? Is this history or metaphor? We humans are pragmatic, rational, creatures. We want to understand, accomplish, control. How do we know we should not be out feeding the hungry and comforting the lonely rather than gathering in this chapel? What is more Christ-like - caring for the needy or contemplating the meaning of ancient texts? The announcement of the miraculous invites us to wrestle with possibilities beyond our powers to understand. The story claims there is a bigger world around us that we do not see, a larger reality that we cannot perceive. The life of Christ is communicated to us into the layers of conditioning, experience, and imagination we develop over decades, so that before we ask what the story means, we must ask who are we who are hearing the account of the Ascension.
Do we uncritically accept the story? Do we dismiss such events as coming from a pre-scientific, superstitious world and therefore meaningless for us today? I am hearing an increase in reports from clergy and faithful laypersons who note an enlarging chasm between Christian doctrine and our current social challenges. The church is full of hypocrites or out of touch or a thing of the past. The refrain is, “Let’s not waste time with divisive theological opinions, it’s time to work together to create a better world here and now.” If we know what is right, perhaps we no longer need to worship Jesus, but just do what he wants us to do.
Many social commentators have described our cultural moment as an apocalypse, an unveiling, of our buried sins, of the work that is still left undone in our collective vision of equality and freedom. Such times are full of opportunity for honest reflection or denial and blame. Our deep illusion is that we believe the press of our own arrogance, can do it ourselves; gather the tools, the answers, apply them, and end whatever evil or crisis before us. I have heard the word “fix” many times in the last few weeks. Perhaps because I have become more sensitized to the cultural conversation in the light of this season and this feast. How do we fix violence, climate change, and other social crises is asked every time I listen to the news. Some party, politician, or group can do it and should do it. Our imaginations are primed by the stories we have absorbed. We can do anything. We remember nothing.
The miraculous, the mystical, the unseen, the realities that are beyond our minds are essential elements that make the world meaningful and make our humanity infused with power and hope. They are not meant to be comfortable, or even comforting, if comforting means quick and easy solutions to complex evils. While we may want answers and fixes, what we get is hope, promise, power, and presence. And we are asked to believe that those are better, more solid and lasting gifts than our limited minds can create on our own. The classic theology of the Ascension is that Jesus, whose presence was localized while on earth, passes his presence into us through the Holy Spirit, into the Holy Eucharist, and into the promise of the new heaven and new earth, the final and ultimate consummation of the kingdom of God. The Ascension is an act of love toward us wherein Christ desires and enacts his loving embrace wide enough to encompass the whole cosmos. The divine glory of the whole cosmos enters into the particular in bread and wine and comes to dwell within us. The love that inhabits the universe seeks to be touched and tasted by our bodies.
These mysteries, these realities, invite us to a renewed theological orientation, a poetic imagination that can help us discern the times as more than a series of problems to be fixed, but as an invitation to be people of patient inquiry, humble cooperation, bold proclamations of God’s truth. We are stewards and witnesses of the kingdom that is already and not yet, breaking into our world even when its progress seems exceedingly slow. Our work is partnering with Christ in the slow, deep work of conversion that takes as long as it takes for it to be real, knowing that the final consummation comes when the new heaven and new earth descend from Christ. The Ascension is part of the theology of the person of Christ. Theology is the first word on a subject that serves to propel us into mystery, not the last word of a definition that defines that mystery.
The life of Christ speaks to our identity, our longing, our communal moment as the central reality of our existence. A poetic imagination reminds us that life is liturgy, the earth is the sanctuary. Corporate worship may be a respite from the news and trials of everyday life and a re-focus on the presence of God, but worship must never become an escape into an alternative world wholly separated from the rest of life, cut off from the other six days and 23 hours of our week. Theology that stays safely shelved in church pews is a betrayal of our faith in Jesus. Shelved theology is worse than none at all. In miracles, in the invisible, in the hope of a future promise we can barely imagine, we are confronted with the genuinely new, the limits of our power, the folly of our capabilities to fix it. That is why Jesus comes to us, shares his power and presence with us. Our mortal finitude, our awareness of our need, is the prerequisite of sharing in the glory of our humanity.
Jesus dismisses the disciples' question about whether he was about to restore the kingdom to Israel - it is none of your business, he says. He admonishes them not to take God’s role, but to remain obedient to their vocation as stewards of power and witnesses of God’s visitation in Christ.
Therefore will keep gathering, keep being nervous, keep waiting and watching and witnessing. “Surely the Lord is in this place - and I did not know it! How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” Amen.
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