Ascension of the Lord

What this feast day represents might not seem like cause for celebration. In some ways, it seems as though we just experienced the troubling weight of Holy Week with all its turmoil, sadness and causes for fear, until we could finally breathe a surprised sigh of relief that Jesus had triumphed over death. Yet here we are again, celebrating a moment when Jesus would leave us behind, and stick us with a rather foreboding to-do list. On the surface, it could seem like that, and so then: What’s to celebrate? 

But if we zoom-out from this moment and bear in mind what preceded it and what followed, it gives perspective. Jesus had been with his disciples and the people of his place and time for three years. All that he did in his public ministry, as it’s captured in the Gospels, was amazing and it clearly changed people who received it, witnessed it, and even those who heard about it. 

But his ability to be with us all was restricted by space and time. The only way he could truly become the Alpha and Omega for us, all things for all people, was to transform in the way that he was (and is) present to them (and to us). For Star Wars fans, it’s something like when Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed by Darth Vader. In death, becoming one with the force, Obi Wan would be even more powerful in the fight against the Empire and the dark side. Or for others, consider that we would not have had Joanie Loves Chachi, had Happy Days not eventually ended…..On second thought, that’s a horrible comparison, and bears nothing of the theological and pastoral implications of today’s solemnity—so I publicly ask forgiveness and express gratitude that a bolt of lightning did not strike me from where I stand. 

By virtue of Jesus’ Ascension, having primed his Apostles for the next stage of the mission—to take what had begun to all nations, to build the Kingdom of God—he left room for the Holy Spirit to descend upon them and lead them in it. It would be through that promised Spirit, beginning at Pentecost, that Jesus would be with them in a new way—transcending time and space, all the way to here and now—working from within his leaders, his followers and the Sacraments that he entrusted to them.  

Simply put, had Jesus not ascended into heaven, we may never have been given access to his life of grace, especially in the Eucharist, for which hunger so much at this time. 

I hear so many of you describe that hunger, as we wait for public Masses to come back. They will come back, and a plan is underway. And as some dioceses are a step or two ahead of us in doing so, I ask you to please be patient. For some, it truly is about a longing for the Mass and the Eucharist, but for too many of us, I believe the angst about all this is rooted in the contentious divide of partisan politics. 

I absolutely agree that it’s nonsense that matters of our faith have been rendered non-essential, while abortion services and liquor sales go uninterrupted. It bothers me greatly too, but in whatever way partisan politics becomes the platform for dividing the Body of Christ, pitting us against each other, and especially pitting some of us against our bishops, I’m not sure of what state of communion would exist between us, even if Mass as we know it was up and running today. I implore you for prayerful patience, and appeal to you to pray for our bishops as they work diligently to restore us to the beautiful practices of our faith. 

St. John describes that on the night of his arrest, with fear and uncertainty over the ensuing chaos, Jesus raised his eyes to heaven, praying: “that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us….” (John 17:1, 21). May what burns in our hearts not be so much angst over an objectionable political ideology, but instead a true and deep desire for Jesus.