Ascension - Homily 2

 Homily 2 - 2016

I used to think that Easter was “it”. What more could you get than resurrection? With resurrection, it was as if Jesus returned to his rightful place in the inner life of the Trinity, fitting back where he belonged somewhere between Father and Spirit. And not only that, it was his human body that was raised. So, in and through him, we too might eventually merit heaven. But we had to get there first. And that would mean relentless vigilance and constant work on our part.

Against that scenario, the Ascension seemed something of a second thought, tying up the loose ends, perhaps. It even made less of a stir than the descent of the Spirit at Pentecost – which at least seemed to have some use if we were to save our souls.

Of recent years I have begun to see things differently. And in this new development, the Ascension has become the climax towards which everything else is ordered. I think the insight started when I began to reflect on the fact that God loves all of us unconditionally, totally and without exception. God’s hope is to save the whole human race – and it as one of the human race that I fit in. I realized I am not all that important, none of us is; or, rather, I am important, we are all important, but none of us is especially important, more important than anyone else. God does not have favourites. God cannot love me more than anyone else. God cannot love anyone else more than God already loves me. If God were to stop loving anyone, God would stop being God!

I also realized that it is this love – the only kind of love – that God both feels towards us and pours into us. When we truly vibrate with the life of God, we love. Grace is simply the divine energy that empowers us to love God, each other, ourselves. That changes the focus somewhat. Heaven is not the isolated me saving my soul. Heaven is about being in love – with everyone. Heaven is us related, relating to each other – being loved, giving love; and enjoying it! It is a social experience. Heaven has the shape of a unique society. If we wish to use the old terminology of biblical times, it is a kingdom [or, as the Book of the Apocalypse prefers, it is a city, a resplendent city]. And the one taking care of it all is Jesus. 

The prophet Daniel introduced the imagery in an apocalyptic vision he described a couple of centuries before Jesus: "I saw one like a Son of Man coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His … kingship is one that shall never be destroyed". Daniel’s imagery helps us understand why Jesus always referred to himself as the Son of Man. It explains why Luke, when picturing Jesus’ Ascension, spoke of the cloud taking Jesus from their sight. It explains Paul’s reference to Jesus sitting at God’s right hand [which means, sharing the responsibility of God]. And it is helpful to remember that kingdoms and cities are essentially people, people together, organized and relating to each other under the authority of their leader – in Jesus’ case, not by force and by law, but by love and in perfect freedom.

When we see things in this light, we recognise that discipleship is not being engrossed in a future heaven, gripped by the self-interested, self-serving business of saving our souls. Rather, discipleship means sharing a mission to show the way of Jesus now to our present world, as we seek to live responsibly in love, focussed on others. Naturally, we are responsible citizens in our global village – we care for refugees; we preferentially opt for the poor and powerless; co-incidentally preparing for eternity, to be shared later, and enjoyed, together in heaven.