What the Ascension Teaches (June 1)

Readings, Acts 1:1-11, Ephesians 1:15-23
Image, Girolamo Nerli, The Ascension (1887)
 
The ascension feels a bit like the poor second cousin of church days. We do a lot for Christmas, Good Friday, Easter, and Pentecost, but how do we mark the ascension? There’s not even that much great art about it, it’s mostly feet in clouds. Perhaps this points to a deeper question that goes unanswered: why should we celebrate the ascension?
 
We know why we celebrate Christmas – the long-awaited birth of Emmanuel, God with us. We know why we mark Good Friday – the death of Christ as act of solidarity and salvation. We know why we celebrate Easter Sunday –the resurrection of Christ and gift of new life. We know why we celebrate Pentecost – the sending of the Spirit and birth of the church. What is left to add to this story? What piece of the puzzle, we wonder, does the ascension add? 
 
At one level, the ascension, like those other special days, reveals the identity of Christ. That is to say, the ascension teaches us that the one born of Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, who rose again on the third day bringing the dead and the lost into the reign of grace, that this same one has now been seated at God’s right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And God has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church. That is to say, the one who washed the feet of his disciples and laid down his life for the world, has been given all authority over heaven and earth, and his reign of grace shall know no end. Whatever Christ has promised, we can trust, because he has been given the power and authority to accomplish all things.
 
The Ascension is also the forerunner to sending of Spirit. Out with his disciples, in the moments before he ascends, Jesus instructs them to remain in the city until the Spirit’s arrival. Since the horizon of his death drew near, Christ has been promising his disciples that while he will depart, they will not be left alone. The promised coming of the Spirit is inextricably linked with the going ahead of Christ. This shift, from the embodied and singular presence of Christ to the intangible though intimate presence of the Spirit is what is required if the Christian community, the Church, the Body of Christ, is to witnesses to Jesus in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. The resurrected Christ might have been able to appear and disappear with a certain mystical wonder, but he remained as he was before the cross: bound bodily in one time and place. Such was the necessary nature of the incarnation. But following the resurrection – as we have seen these past weeks – the story is shifting from the story of Christ to the story of his followers taking up his work. For this to occur they, like Mary in the garden, can cling to him no longer. They must step out and follow in his way. And yet, Christ shall not leave his friends alone. And so even as they go forth without his immediate, bodily presence in their midst, they are accompanied by the Spirit, who will provide what they require for the task at hand.
 
In this sense, the ascension ensures the freedom and maturity of the Christian community. We all know that dynamic, perhaps in a workplace or social setting, where a question is posed: ‘how should we respond to this proposal’, or’ would you like to order dessert?’ And we pause. Instinctively our bodies turn toward someone whose opinion or authority we trust or observe. Perhaps we give that kind of wide-eyed look to a spouse trying to read their minds or signal that the decision is theirs. Or perhaps we look to a superior in the workforce to gauge their interest. Imagine just how much more entrenched such a practice of deferral would be for the disciples of Jesus. One imagines that anytime a problem or opportunity presented itself there would be a kind of tense silence as they glanced toward Christ. It’s Jesus after all, you’d be silly not to at least check your idea was on the right track.
 
For the church to have proper freedom for its own creative and contextual response to the gospel it needed to be sent. To have the chance to mature as disciples, we need to live in an age of prayer and discernment. To be a true community, the church must retain Christ as its head, but needs to become co-dependent on all members of the body, sharing and relying on the gifts of the Spirit. The ascension, as much as Pentecost, makes the church possible: the first sends out the church to find their way along The Way, the second sends the Spirit to ensure we do not rely only solely on our own power and wits.    
 
And finally, the ascension teaches us about the Lord’s Table, the sacrament of communion. At this table we dispense and partake of the body of Christ. At yet the church has long been in dispute over who can properly preside at the table and who can receive. Must the presider be a priest, if so, what kind of person can be a priest? Must the person receiving be baptised, confirmed, in a state of grace? Much thought given to what it would mean if someone unworthy, unrepentant, or unbelieving partakes or presides at the table, whether it would corrupt the table, the congregation, Christ? In response, many churches have sought to tighten the operating bounds of the table of grace, taking possession of Christ’s body and with it the authority to dispense or withhold it. But the ascension reminds us that Christ’s body is not in our possession. The disciples, staring at the sky, had to be reminded that he’s been taken from you into heaven. Christ is present at the table; indeed, he is our host, but in his presence, there is also an unpossessable absence.
 
This has two, perhaps paradoxical implications. One is to inspire humility, the other courage. The church does not possess the ascended body of Christ, instead we have been put under his feet. We do not possess the power to say, yes you can come to the table, no you can’t… nor to say that only a particular kind of body (white, male, straight, able-bodied) is the appropriate priestly body to preside. But in this humility also comes courage. Because like the disciples given the freedom to strike out and discover what it means to be a Christian in the confidence of Christ’s promise and the Spirit’s power, we are called to dispense and partake of Christ’s body with all confidence. To share and receive Christ’s body with all hope, trusting that as Christ’s own act it will work to bring glory to God and peace in our hearts.
 
In the ascension we recognise the towering authority of Christ. Above all other claimants, Christ reigns alone. In this we take courage to step out in boldness and creativity as his disciples trusting in his power, presence, and promise. In this authority, we also understand our limits: limits which teach reliance (on the Spirit and one another) and limits which teach humility. Both of those lessons are learnt at this table. This table of grace which reminds us of our need to be fed and sustained by the body of Christ, which we do not possess, and so do not control. We learn, as it is expressed in the Basis of Union, that the Church is able to live and endure through the changes of history only because its Lord comes, addresses, and deals with people in and through the news of his completed work. That is to say, the church lives as the body only because Christ, our head, shows up, time and again, to fill all in all.