The great ascent

13 May 2010


Great occasions often bring out the best in us. Brides look adorable, their flower girls beatific; those receiving their First Communion could be angels! And so they should. The planning, the expectations, the promises, the anticipation, the build up, are followed by the event, the culmination, the celebration!

The afterglow is sometimes followed by the letdown. While the celebration was all that was expected, once the adrenalin pulls back, it can be hard to maintain the enthusiasm.

Fortunately we are all born with a sense of the ‘big picture’. It’s not all about now. Time is of the essence, seeing things through to the end.

Imagine you are a disciple. It has been 40 days since Jesus rose from the dead. Having taken you to the outskirts of Bethany (Luke 24:46 – 53), he raises his hands and blesses you, and is ‘carried up to heaven’. You have already experienced the shocking terror and deep disappointment of Jesus’ passion and death. You have been surprised and overjoyed by his resurrection, and walked with him in wonder as he spent these past few weeks with you. Now he has gone. According to Luke you are filled with a desire to give praise to God and then make your way back to Jerusalem.

Given that the notions we have about the resurrection are sometimes skewed about exactly what resurrection means, so we can also be challenged by the ascension. The idea of heaven ‘up there’ can be put down to an extraordinarily limited understanding of the cosmos. How does this transition from resurrected body to ascended divinity take place? And most importantly, and very un-theologically, is what really was on the minds of the disciples, could they realistically accept that Jesus would now disappear forever from the their midst, could they have rationalised a meaning to it during and so soon after the event itself?

Certainly ancient holy men were taken up into heaven as a sign of divine approval – but for Jesus writers ancient and modern would claim this ascension as a vindication of Jesus’ triumph over his enemies, for only by ascending (going up) can he take up his seat at this Father’s right hand. For them in this event Jesus becomes eternally present, no longer physically, but surprisingly now forever present in the world. Surely this cannot have been in the mind of those faithful, if occasionally erring, disciples as they gazed into space – no time to ask, ‘Where are you going?” “When you come back?” Jesus ascension is final. That fully human, ‘embodied’ Jesus is no longer present.

But if this is the letdown, we also know that two things are established in scripture – one: that he will send his comforter, the Holy Spirit to guide and nurture us, and two: that he will come again (at the end of time, the parousia) when we will share in his divinity.

The challenge we all face is being able to pick ourselves up and move forward – resilience – in our modern vernacular, just like those first disciples. We must maintain that awareness that helps us keep in touch with future, with our hopes and dreams. The miracle of the ascension is, of course, is that Jesus is right here, right now – but that we can anticipate the true fullness of life in his eternal presence.

Pentecost missionaries

20 May 2010


Zumba was launched at our local gym last night and yours truly stayed on to join my wife, daughter, 51 other women – and one other extraordinarily brave gent to jiggle and wiggle for an hour. I was outstanding for my dismal ability and general reluctance. Definitely, definitely not my scene.

I love a great party – getting friends together to enjoy good food, good wine, good company. I enjoy the preparations – the ‘right’ music, lighting, drinks, the whole works. The full effect of those preparations becomes evident when the guests are happy, when conversations are animated, when there are no pretensions, no one to impress.

Getting out of our comfort zones isn’t easy. The disciples in the upper room had become anxious. Jesus had ascended. They had no idea what would happen next, what to expect. They hear the sound of a great wind and above their heads appears – something that looks like a flame – and the anxiety, the puzzlement, the loss they have suffered dissipates as a new confidence, a power, a strength at first seeps through, emerging into the bustling, energetic gift of tongues. This gift drives them to the streets to proclaim the kerygma – the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. The people of Jerusalem who come from every corner of the known world are shocked and surprised, for from the mouths of these uneducated, uncouth Galileans, they can hear them preach the Good News in their own languages.

So disarming is this event that some believe that they are drunk. Peter reminds them it is still too early in the morning!

The gift they have been given is the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Paraclete. The disciples have never experienced anything like this before. They too are taken aback by what has now overcome them. Many of those who hear them come to believe and are baptised.

This event which we call Pentecost might appear to be ‘organised chaos’, and yet this is the event for which the disciples have been thoroughly prepared for by Jesus himself. For if there is a purpose of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, Pentecost is merely the first moment of revelation - the uncertainty, the lack of confidence are dismissed. In Jerusalem that day, the momentum built up by Jesus over three years bursts into life.

This Pentecost experience is rolled out every day and today’s disciples continue to uncover the mission that they have been given. You and I may not be called to speak in many tongues, but the gift we each have to unravel lies within us, begun in baptism, nurtured through reconciliation, confirmation and Eucharist. We might not be asked to proclaim the Gospel on street corners, but we are undoubtedly invited to share and be good news to one another.

Happy birthday, Church!

Grant us peace

5 May 2010

When you have young children filling your days it is easy to imagine the peace and quiet that would occur if only they would go to sleep, stay asleep or play quietly.

John Lennon’s 1969 Give peace a chance was a top tenner in my youth, an anthem for those who sought withdrawal of allied troops from Vietnam. Vietnam had, of course, invaded our homes via television. Our desire for peace was as much a thrust towards honesty and trust (in government) as much as it was in ending that unwinnable war.

Peace is a value that lies at the root our both our spiritual and fundamentally human well-being as well as the highest achievement in relations between nations. Moreover, peace it at the centre of right relationship with God himself.

This understanding comes down to us from the ancient scriptures of the Old/First Testament. This right relationship with God was dependent on right relationship within our communities and between communities. It has a strong sense of completeness and well-being. Church thinkers, like Thomas Aquinas (died 1274) firmly believed that peace brought a tranquility both within and between persons. Since the beginning of the 20th Century the Church’s social teaching has seen a growth in the understanding of the ethical dimensions of peace – for while peace is the fruit of right relationship, it is to be grounded in justice and directed by charity.

The search for peace is interminable – whether we are driven to travel the vast inner worlds of our minds or the outer extensions of the know universe, the human quest, the personal quest is to find peace.

Jesus declares to his disciples just prior to his ascension (in John 14:23 – 29): Peace I bequeath to you, my own peace I give to you; a peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you. This is spoken to every single human being, to every family, community and nation. The peace that Jesus offers is that overwhelming sense of fulfillment, of enrichment, of being at-one with one another. But it comes at a cost, for even though it is always pure gift, it requires the establishment of a covenant, an agreement. It is what is completed between nations to ensure lasting peace, and for true peace to endure the signatories must remain faithful.

The covenants arranged between you and your God, between you and your spouse, between you and your workmates will probably only ever be known to you. Yet these right relationships will ensure that peace will grow, that our spiritual and physical well-being will be assured, and ultimately – our children will grow up in a world committed to non-violence, justice and equity.

As Lennon so aptly sang: All we are saying is give peace a chance. But let that peace be Christ’s.

My words, the commandment

It would be a most noble act as your child left your home for the very last time, to utter words of such import, that they would be remembered by your descendents for generations to come. So if you had the heads up now, what would you say?

Some leave memoirs, beautifully published, that family members may consult. Others leave precious diaries that record events, daily activities and quiet thoughts. Some may bequeath a musical opus, others the remnants of their poetic genius. What would a Nobel laureate utter, or would he be satisfied with his great achievement in science, literature, medicine or in peace?

We ordinary folk, whose lives are recorded by past calendars that highlight dental appointments and family get-togethers, can and do leave words that will impact on our children. They may not make the annals of well- and oft-quoted proverbs and phrases, but be assured they will.

In this Sunday’s Gospel (John 13:31 - 35) Jesus tells his disciples: I shall not be with you much longer. I give you a new commandment: love one another; just as I have loved you, you also must love one another. By this love you have for one another, everyone will know that you are my disciples. These words of Jesus are imprinted on the hearts and minds of every Christian, for they are not just a standard bearer for Christianity, they are a guide for good living, a pathway to building God’s kingdom. It is clear that these words are not just to be spoken and repeated to one another, they are to be enacted, made real through gesture and action.

And this is what the words you leave your children must equally do. What would I say? Know that I really love you and will always love you. This is not a commandment, it is a statement of fact projected into the distant and eternal future. How will they know these words are important and to be always remembered? I will tell them over and over, and my gestures, words, actions and prayers will constantly affirm them. So, by all means have some words that you can you can pass on to your child, but they should be words that complete the life you have already lived together.

As disciples of Jesus we have never been perfect in acting out his commandment to love others, it is a work in progress, like us. It is the journey that matters.