Today, forty days into the
Easter season, the Church marks “The Ascension of Our Lord.” I have
noticed some Facebook friends have commemorated this day by posting images such
as these:
Ascension of Christ by Garofalo, between 1510 and 1520.
Jesus is ascending as we
stand by, gazing upward. In the case of the second picture, it looks like we
have photoshop to thank for the chuckle and the challenge.
Then there this next image that I couldn’t help but notice every time I
worshipped at Calvary Lutheran Church, Winger, Minnesota, the church where my sons were baptized.
I find it fascinating that
many churches prominently display artistic renderings of the ascension yet aren't quite sure what to make of it. Some
hold worship services on this day, others move the celebration to the nearest
Sunday, still others avoid it all together.
Laurence Hull
Stookey in Calendar: Christ's Time for the Church notes that “current understandings of the universe,
buttressed by the reign of reason in Western thought, have caused the ascension
to become a large question mark for most Christians. It used to be supposed that
heaven was a few thousand feet up in the air; now that we know something of the
scope of the universe, this is manifest nonsense.” One reason the ascension is such a question mark
is our proclivity to separate faith and science. (For a hot-off–the-press
treatment of this, see The Collapse of the Three Story Universe by Daniel Wolpert). If we no longer believe that heaven is “up there” and hell is “down there,” how can we wrap our minds around Jesus ascending into heaven?
Stookey continues: “That contemporary
people should ask such questions is unavoidable. That the contemporary church
has dealt with them only by silence is unforgiveable.” He goes on to commend
the ascension not for its scientific actuality or what it means to be in Bible times with Jesus, but for its rich meanings for
faith here and now.
In the spirit of not avoiding the ascension, I offer two experiences that when juxtaposed with ascension day, might yield another angle on what it all means.
Experience #1: We are lifted up
I was doing some work for a worship planning resource this
morning when I read from the prophet Isaiah, a passage chosen for the first
Sunday after Christmas, Year A.
I will recount the
gracious deeds of the Lord…..
Surely, they are my
people, children who will not deal falsely;
And he became their
savior in all their distress.
It was no messenger or
angel but his presence that saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed
them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.
(Isa: 63:7-9)
The Lord lifts us up; we
are carried. It is not that Jesus ascends and leaves us orphaned to watch the
rocket launch. I think more often it is us who are being lifted with him, like
the children Jesus took in his arms, lifting them and claiming they are
welcomed. We are not lifted to escape the depths nor heights of human
experience, but to experience them more fully. God’s presence through Christ’s
Spirit carries us more completely than we can comprehend.
Experience #2:
And so we lift others up
Also this morning I commented on
a Facebook message thread questioning the “cry it out” method of sleep training
for infants. It's a thorny topic with strong views on either side. One can make a scientific claim against it as the American Psychological Association has done. But my reasoning for not endorsing it is theological. God comes to
us, overflowing in mercy, promising to lift us up and hold us, to wipe every
tear from our eyes. Although this is contrary to some belief, infants are not
sitting in the crib figuring out how to trick mom or dad into coming and
picking them up. “Ha, ha… got em’ again.” Hogwash. They are babies. They cry.
And they cry to be soothed and held, they need to be lifted up and carried, to
be assured that they are secure and loved. Perhaps as parents and caregivers we
are lifting them up to reveal the presence of the Spirit, here and now.
The ascension affirms the
boundless presence of Christ, breaking into our limiting, controlling ways. The
words of Brian Wren challenge us when we are led to believe God is “up there”
looking on us “down here.” Wren continually revised his hymns. The following
stanza is not found in the most recent hymnal of my denomination, the
Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.
Not throned afar, remotely high, untouched,
unmoved by human pains,
But daily, in the midst of life, our Savior with
the Father reigns.
(Christ is Alive, Stanza 2, Lutheran Book of
Worship, 1978))
Would God keep lifting us up by grounding us more firmly in the here and now and by giving us the
strength to lift up one another. That is my prayer this Ascension Day.
