“The Ascension of Christ”

Ascension Sunday

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Acts 1:1-11

Psalm 93

Ephesians 1:15-23

Today is Ascension Sunday.  It is the Sunday on which we remember Christ’s ascension which, according to the Gospel of Luke and the Book of Acts, took place forty days after his resurrection.

Ascension Day, itself, was this past Thursday, since this past Thursday was the fortieth day after Easter.  For those of you who find it difficult to believe that Easter Sunday was already more than forty days ago, I would remind you that this also means that there are now only 235 shopping days left until Christmas (and 234 days left until my birthday).

When we think about the event that we call ‘the Ascension’, most of our attention is usually focussed on Jesus.  We see the Ascension as the conclusion of his work on earth, as the moment when he returned to take his rightful place in the glory of God, and as the event which, in some sense, prefigured his return, since his disciples were told that he would one day return in the same manner that he had departed from among them.  Artists, poets, theologians and spiritual writers have focused a great deal of attention on the Ascension and its meaning and implications in the life of Jesus.   Many churches have stained glass windows depicting Jesus beginning to rise above the heads of his disciples, as the clouds open and the angels hover, waiting to journey with him back to heaven.  Jesus is, in many ways, the focus of this event that we call the ascension.

And there is good reason for this focus.  Although the ascension is not mentioned in Matthew, John, or one of the so-called ‘shorter endings’ of the Gospel of Mark, the place of the Ascension in Luke and in Mark serves to underline its importance in the story of Jesus.  In many ways, the ascension served as the Gospel writers’ way of pointing to the moment of Christ’s ultimate glorification, his ultimate vindication, and his ultimate deification.  He who had descended from heaven to share our humanity, who had emptied himself of the glory of heaven, and had humbled himself to the point of death, was now returning to heaven to resume his rightful role in the radiance and glory of God.  Our ancestors, in the faith, even wove this claim about the ascension into the creeds themselves -- “he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of God.” 

There has been much debate about how to properly read and interpret these texts.  Should they be understood as some literal account of what happened?  Or should they be read in a more metaphorical manner, inviting us to a less literal, but no less spiritual understanding of these passages?  Regardless of how literally or metaphorically one interprets these passages about Jesus’ ascension, the ultimate claim that emerges from those interpretations is the same.  That is, that the Gospel writers were trying to focus our attention, as readers, on the glory of the risen Christ.

Which is fine.  But, as we ponder this text today, I would invite us to reflect on the fact that there may be another, very important message that we are meant to draw from these passages.  That is, that the ascension may not be just about Jesus.

A few years ago, the American pastor and author Rick Warren wrote a bestselling book – which, I admit, I have not read in its entirety – called “The Purpose Driven Life”.  The opening line of the book was, however, quite memorable and quite fascinating.  The opening line was this -- “It’s not about you.”

On this Ascension Sunday, when we usually spend most of our time focussing on Christ and on the meaning of the ascension in his life, I would invite us to consider that the meaning of the ascension may, in a very significant way, actually be about you – and me, and all of us.   

In order to explore this idea, it is necessary to pay fairly close attention to the place where we find the story of the Ascension.

Today’s reading from Acts begins with an address to a character named Theophilus, and it is clear that the book of Acts is the second letter, or the second book, that is being written to him.  “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning, until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen.”

As we read these words, and these references to “the first book” that was written to Theophilus, we cannot help but ask ourselves what was the first book?

The first of those books was the biblical book that we know as the Gospel of Luke – and we know that because the Gospel of Luke also begins with an address to this same character Theophilus.  Luke and Acts – though separated by the Gospel of John in the usual ordering of the books of the Bible – are in fact volumes one and two in one continuing story, and are, in many ways, presenting their ideas from the same narrative perspective.  And, in many ways, it is not until we read those two book as one continuous narrative that we begin to realize the flow of the story, and the ways that certain themes and ideas are woven through both texts.

As these opening words from Acts suggest, part one of that story – the Gospel of Luke – is entirely focussed on the life of Jesus.  “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught…”  And throughout that account of Jesus’ life, one of Luke’s particular emphases is on the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of Jesus.  So often, if we lay passages from Luke alongside parallel passages in Mark and Matthew, what becomes evident is that Luke has inserted explicit references to the fact that it was the Spirit that was leading Jesus to do certain things, or to go to certain places, or to demonstrate certain powers.

Part two of the story – the book of the Acts of the Apostles – has a different focus.  It is entirely focused on the life of the early Church.  The author’s emphasis on the role of the Holy Spirit continues but, in Acts, rather than describing the role of the Spirit in the life of Jesus, the role and power of the Spirit is manifested in the community of Jesus’ followers after their strange and wonderful experiences on the day of Pentecost.  As those followers began to move out, from Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, to the ends of the earth, the author repeatedly emphasizes that it was the Spirit that was leading the Church to do certain things, and go to certain places, and demonstrate certain powers.    

And it is interesting to realize that the event which closes the first volume, that being Luke, and that opens the second volume, that being the Book of Acts, is this event called the Ascension. 

Which is important.  Because, in a way, the Ascension functions as the event which bridges these two stories.  It is the Ascension which bridges the gap between the story of Jesus, and the story of the Church.  It is the Ascension which shifts the focus of the story from Jesus to the Church.  The body of Jesus was departing from this world; the Body of Christ was now being sent into the world

Which may signal to us that the Ascension is not just about Jesus, his glory and his ascended power.  Maybe it’s about us.

When I was younger, I was always struck  by the strange declaration that was often made upon the occasion of the death of a king.  “The king is dead; long life the king.”  It was a declaration of the unbroken continuity of a monarchy, even in the absence of the previous monarch.   The end of one individual did not mean that the authority, the power and the responsibilities of the monarchy had died. 

There may be a strange parallel between that proclamation and the message at the heart of ascension Sunday.  To paraphrase that royal declaration, we might even suggest that our proclamation on ascension Sunday is this: 

“The Body of Christ is gone; the Body of Christ is here.”

If this is true, however, there is a profound and significant challenge that we must confront. That is, if the Spirit that had once animated and motivated Jesus was now about to be poured out upon the gathered community of his followers, then it can clearly be concluded that the Church should be engaged, in an unbroken continuity, with exactly the same types of activities, missions and ministries that Jesus was involved with during his time in this world.

Which offers us cause for serious reflection.

After all, the way that we ‘do’ Church is quite interesting.  For many, the perception of what it means to be part of the Church is that is involves gathering together, on a weekly basis, to sit on old wooden pews in a beautiful old building, look at the backs of other people’s heads, sing some lovely songs together, say some prayers together, listen to a few people speak, pass the offering plate as a way of supporting the cause, hear some words of blessing, and then go and drink some coffee and tea -- unless we have to rush away to meet someone for lunch.

 But is that, really, what being a part of the Body of Christ is all about?  Or is it about something far deeper, far greater, far more intriguing and challenging than that?  Could it actually be that we, who are a part of the Body of Christ, are now called to be that community, in this world, who together continue the very things that Jesus was doing while his own physical body was among us?  

So what was it that he spent his time doing?  Well, he did not simply stare at the backs of other people’s heads – rather, he spent time eating and drinking with friends; he befriended the outcasts and the marginalized; he challenged people to repent, and re-turn their lives to God; he touched and healed the sick and the suffering; he fed the hungry; he healed and transformed bruised and broken human spirits; he proclaimed a vision of what God’s kingdom, God’s reign, would be like; he brought comfort to the sorrowing and challenge to the comfortable; he invited people to love, to forgive, to live in peace, to care for each other; he told simple little stories with explosive implications; he encouraged people to realize that their lives meant something, and that they would one day be asked to account, before God, for the ways that they had lived their lives; he challenged systems of power, particularly in the realm of religion; he opened his arms to the world. 

For these things, he suffered, and eventually was killed.  But that cruel death was not the end of the story.  As our reading from Ephesians states, “God... raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.”

To be a part of the Church, therefore, is to be a part of that Body whose head is in heaven with God, and whose responsibility it is to continue to do what Jesus was doing when his own physical body was in this world.  Because we, now, are his body in this world, it is our responsibility to continue to work towards the transformation and the redemption of this world, so that God’s love might come to have pre-eminence in all things, and so that this world might become a fitting dwelling place for God.  We are called to serve as Jesus served; to love as Jesus loved; to forgive as Jesus forgave; sometimes to get angry at the same things that angered Jesus; but also to be holy as Jesus was holy.  We are called, in short, to seek the kingdom of God, and to allow our life together to make God’s reign a reality. 

We cannot, of course, effect such transformations on our own, for even our greatest efforts will not be able to create God’s kingdom – that is a work of God.  But that does not mean that we should just sit back and passively wait.  Rather, we are called to go into this world – even as Jesus sent his first disciples, as 2 Corinthians 5 so beautifully states, to be ambassadors for the reconciling love of God at work in this world.  We are called, equipped, and sent into this world to triumph over greed, injustice, hatred and violence, armed only with the power of love.

Because that is what Jesus did.  And, though he is no longer physically present with us, we are still his body.

And so, on this Ascension Sunday, we proclaim one of the great mysteries of our faith.

The Body of Christ is gone; the Body of Christ is here.

Amen.