A Holy Handoff
Today is the Sunday before Pentecost, Ascension Sunday. In church tradition, it is a feast day, a day of celebration. But it’s a rather odd celebration, if you stop to think about it. Because it seems to be celebrating Jesus’ departure, the day when he’s lifted up and taken out of sight.
Now, you might say that today’s celebration is really just an appetizer for Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descends and fills the followers of Jesus. You might say that today is a little bit like a teaser. “Stay tuned for the next episode…”
The problem, though, is that scripture itself challenges this idea. When Jesus is lifted up and a cloud takes him out of sight, all of his followers look up into the sky. It is as though they are waiting for the next episode. But suddenly two men in white robes appear on the ground and ask them, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” (Acts 1:11).
In other words, what are you standing around for? What has just happened is not about Jesus departing into heaven. What has just happened is about you unleashing Jesus into all the world. It’s a holy handoff.
The Parable of the
Librarian
It’s a little bit like this… There once was a girl who loved to read books. She loved to read all kinds—big books, small books, old dusty books, shiny new books. Any book with an inspiring story that made her happy to be alive. Naturally her favorite place in town was the library. She knew all its nooks and crannies. She knew it like the back of her hand. All her favorite books—she knew exactly where they were.
When she graduated from school and it was time for her to find a job, she approached the Librarian and asked if she could work at the library. The Librarian, who had checked out countless books to the girl and knew her well, was delighted. He took her on immediately and began teaching her about his work. He said to her, “This library is a kingdom of stories. Stories are how the Spirit moves” (cf. Acts 1:3).
And indeed, in the library, the girl was in heaven.
But one day the Librarian got a phone call and had to leave for a family emergency. “You will have to run the library,” he told the girl.
“When is the time that you will return?” she asked (cf. Acts 1:6).
“It is not for us to know the times,” he said (cf. Acts 1:7). “But do not worry. The Spirit that moves in these stories, which you have read, will come upon you. You will know everything you need to know” (cf. Acts 1:8).
When he said this, he disappeared outside the front door. That first day, the girl was in a daze. The stack of books waiting to be reshelved got bigger and bigger. Requests for books and journals flooded her inbox. She was overwhelmed. It felt like everything was out of control.
And that’s when she heard a Voice. It came from one of the stories in the library, she wasn’t sure which one. The Voice said, “Love is patient and kind, not controlling” (cf. 1 Cor 13:4-5). And then she remembered what the Librarian had told her once. “We are never really in control. Books will disappear. Patrons will get angry. The water fountains will break. We cannot control these things. But we can be kind in our response. Kindness restores life much better than control does.”
Inspired by the Voice and the memory, she addressed the things that needed doing, patiently, one at a time. She trusted that her kindness would be enough, that it would accomplish whatever needed to be accomplished.
About ten days later, she found herself lapsing back into feelings of helplessness. She found herself standing around, staring at the door where the Librarian had left. When would he return? That’s when she heard a Voice again. It must have come from one of the stories, she didn’t know which one. “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven? [What you think is gone, is not gone.] You will be my witness…to the ends of the earth” (cf. Acts 1:8, 11). And then she remembered what the Librarian had told her once. “Just bear witness,” he had said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Bear witness?” she had asked, not comprehending what he meant.
“I mean, just be honest. Sometimes people think they need to know more than they really know. They talk about big or famous books that they’ve never read or understood. They talk about places they’ve never been, things they’ve never felt. That doesn’t help anyone. Just be honest! Tell people about your experiences. Where you’ve found life. About the books you’ve enjoyed and why. You don’t have to know it all….You just have to know what you already know.”
Just then a young girl approached the counter and asked for a recommendation. The Librarian—for that is what the girl had become—smiled and told her about a few of her favorites.
“When?” “Now!
Beginning with You…”
Paul says that the ascension is actually an expansion. He puts it like this: Jesus “ascended far above all the heavens, so that he might fill all things” (Eph 4:20). Jesus does not really leave. He is released, set free into all the world. Next Sunday memorializes the moment when his Spirit visibly stirs among his followers—is conspicuous in its expansion—but this Sunday is about the moment that makes that possible. Only if Jesus leaves, in the physical sense, can his Spirit be fully unleashed. Otherwise, his followers will expect Christ to do everything singlehandedly: “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?” (Acts 1:6).
Jesus turns the tables on his followers’ expectations, telling them it’s not a matter of when God will do what God does, but whether they will bear faithful witness to the way that they have learned. “You,” he says, “will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses…to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).
I think of this dialogue between Jesus and his followers in the following simplified way.
Jesus’ followers ask, “When is the kingdom coming?”
Jesus responds, “Now! Beginning with you…”
That may seem like a heavy burden, a mission impossible, but Jesus indicates the opposite, that it is the most natural and easy thing in the world. “Just bear witness,” he says. Which is another way of saying, just be honest about your experience.
Now, if you’re like me, you might feel a bit of doubt and worry. “Well, if I were really honest, then people might not hear the gospel. If I told them about my failures and my shortcomings, all the times I prayed and didn’t feel God’s presence, what kind of witness would that be?” And the truth is…it would be a very honest witness. It would probably be a lot more relatable to what other people have experienced, than just reciting some Bible verses would be. And the fact of your honesty, and your persistent trust in God’s love, your conviction in the sun even when the clouds obscure it—this would be a gift to anybody. It would honor them and point them to God.
And the real surprise is that when you have been really honest, you may get the strange sensation that you are not alone. You may discover that the Spirit that Jesus promised is in fact one and the same with whatever moved you to tell the truth. You may discover that the Spirit Jesus promised, is quietly within you, at home in your honest heart.
For indeed, Ascension Sunday is not about Jesus leaving us, but about Jesus being with us and expanding to fill all things.
Our Eastern Orthodox sisters and brothers have kept this tradition well. It is why they sing a hymn on Ascension Sunday that goes like this:
Not being parted from those who love You,
But remaining with them and crying:
I am with you and no one will be against you.
Dear Christ,
Who has not departed from us
But is with us,
Working still to fill all things—
Sometimes we feel overwhelmed
With all that seems wrong;
Sometimes we feel alone and small
…
Help us to discover
Beneath these feelings
The simple, honest truth of your love,
Which is your Spirit and your power,
And which is our song.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment