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[Sadie and Erin watch in amazement and terror as Fr. Snyder climbs a ladder and begins to wave goodbye.] This is not what the Ascension of Jesus is all about. The celebration of Ascension-tide is not about adjusting to the loss of Jesus and his disappearance up into a realm inaccessible to us. Rather the Ascension is the recognition of the re-alignment of the way people of faith relate to the continuing, living presence of Christ.
The Gospel readings for the weeks just after Easter struggle with several closely related questions: Is the risen Christ only a ghost or is Christ for real? Is the Gospel supposed to be central to our life or just peripheral? Is discipleship an everyday endeavor that we are willing to wrestle with or is it like a costume we put on for a nostalgia party for a small group of close friends and then take off again when we get home?
The resurrection accounts attempt to make it clear that the risen Jesus is very real, near, and available to be a prime mover in our life. Furthermore the resurrection appearances are always tied to God’s continuing mission of going out, including, welcoming, and widening the circle of the good news. The resurrection appearances are never centered around one place. Christ is always on the move. Christ appears in the cemetery garden, in the upper room in Jerusalem, on the road to Emmaus, by the shore on the Sea of Galilee, on a hill of the Mount of Olives, and on the Damascus Road. What the appearances have in common is that as the living Christ is revealed, minds are opened, scriptures make sense, and horizons are stretched. Then we are sent on to somewhere else, and told that as we take seriously God’s mission, we will discover the presence of the risen Christ anew.
The period of Ascension-tide becomes a way station as we adjust from wanting to hold Jesus tight and close in one spot in history, to that of looking into the eyes of our sisters and brothers on the streets of Ithaca or on the campus of Cornell, and discovering Jesus awaiting us. The Ascension teaches us that our own arms and legs are now the limbs of Christ. The fellowship of faith is revealed not as a one-dimensional communion with God, but as a multidimensional interaction with others. If people of faith are to perceive the living Lord, we must do so by searching and traveling outside closed boundaries and protective walls. That is precisely why the disciples were told to quit standing around on the summit of the Mount of Olives, wringing their hands, looking up to heaven. Rather they were told to go forth, prepare to receive the wonderful gift of the Holy Spirit, and to become witnesses to the ends of the earth.
The Jewish philosopher and Noble Peace Prize recipient Elie Wiesel reminds us that the ancient legends and midrashic commentaries on Genesis were centered much more on what Adam and Eve taught us about life, than on the prologue of creation that appears to be such a fixation for both fundamentalists and some secular scientists. When the first man and woman were thrown out of paradise, they did they give up in resignation or lie paralyzed, bemoaning their fate. No, not at all! Instead they looked outward toward the world’s horizons, and began again, facing all the challenges of a real world and began raising a family. When their son Abel was murdered and their other son Cain was banished, completely destroying their family and future, what did they do, but begin anew and had another son Seth. Of course it is Seth from whom Abraham is descended. Wiesel reminds us that if we ever want to find an example of courage and hope in the face of overwhelming adversity and challenge, we won’t do much better than the example of Adam and Eve. They didn’t create the world. They were not able to hold on to paradise. They never learned the secrets of life. So much was out of their control, but they were able to recognize the possibilities of new beginnings out of profound loss. They were willing to face the challenges and opportunities of realignments. They defied defeat and dead ends; they began again, and always sided with the transition into new life.1
You and I did not make this world we live in. Indeed no one ever did, from Adam and Eve on. We can choose to be bitter, and to keep full and accurate count of our losses and disappointments. We can turn our religious institutions into hospital wards in order to keep nursing our wounds, but Ascension is telling us to choose new life instead, and to ride out of here with heads held high in expectation of new graces yet to be revealed.
That is why I’ve come to believe that even balloons are not appropriate for Ascension, for both ecological and theological reasons. Jesus’ Ascension is not like a balloon that lifts off and rises out of sight. Ascension is not like balloons that are soon gone with the wind. Rather I’ve come to believe that the best symbol of ascension tide is a full size Harley Davidson motorcycle that is filled with gas and revving up to go.
Easter has taken us from death into life. Now, as we learn to realign ourselves with the risen Christ and await the anticipated gift of the Holy Spirit, we are given a ticket to ride. Yes, a perfect symbol of the Ascension is a big Harley Davison road hog, made in the USA, made just down the road in York PA.
I want to assure you it is a real privilege to be here together and anticipate it will be a memory to be treasured. Yet we are expected not to stay around here prolonging the wonderful ambience of this place for as long as we possibly can. God wants us to have the freedom of the road, the feel of the wind on our faces, and the joy of discovering fresh vistas with new sunsets and sunrises. We are called to celebrate our life together, to be nourished, and to get gassed up, and then to get up on that motorcycle, start our engines and ride on out of here, into the classrooms, labs, workplaces, and homes of where people work, play, and struggle. For there, we will meet the risen Christ once again.
And I offer this to you in the name of the Living God, Amen.
1Wiesel, Elie, Messengers of God, Simon & Schuster, chapter one.
