Reflection for Solemnity of the Ascension: Seeing our New Creation with the Eyes of God

In one of the Star Trek Next Generation episodes, Commander Geordi La Forge and Ensign Ro Larren are caught in a transporter accident. While returning to the ship, a surge of power or radiation causes them "materialize" back on the Enterprise in a way where they cannot be seen or heard. The transporter pad looks empty; they seem to have been lost. Neither can they interact in their usual way with the ordinary world of space and time; for instance, they can walk through walls, reach through control panels or other "solid" objects, and stand between two people who are conversing without being perceived. The dimension of reality Geordi and Ro now inhabit interpenetrates the other more everyday world of space and time, interfaces with it in some way without being identical with it. In other words, their new existence is both continuous and discontinuous with their old existence; Geordi and Ro are both present and absent at the same time. In Star Trek parlance this new way of being embodied is called, ”phased” -- because it is a presence slightly “out of phase with our own”. While their friends believe that Geordi and Ro are gone forever and begin to grieve, Geordi and Ro are still vitally present and they leave signs of this presence everywhere --- if only these can be recognized and their friends empowered to see them as they are.


Especially, I think this story helps us begin to imagine and think about what has been so important during all the readings we have heard during this Easter Season and is celebrated in a new and even more mysterious way with the feast of the Ascension. In these stories Jesus is present in a way which is both like and unlike, continuous and discontinuous with, normal existence; it is a presence which can be described as, and even mistaken for absence. Today’s first reading from Acts describes a difficult and demanding “departure” or “absence” but one which has the disciples misguidedly looking up into the skies --- something the angels upbraid them for. Meanwhile, the consoling and hope-filled word we are left with at the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel conveys the promise of an abiding presence which will never leave us. Jesus affirms, [[And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.]] In these readings, absence and Presence are held together in a strange tension.

We know that Resurrection itself represented the coming of something new, a new kind of expanded or less limited incarnation, a new embodied presence or materiality where Jesus can be encountered and recognized with the eyes of faith. What is made clear time and again as Jesus picnicked on the beach with his disciples, invited them to touch him, or even when he warns Mary of Magdala not to cling to him in this form, is that his resurrection is bodily. Yes, it is different from the kind of materiality Jesus had before his death. He is no longer mortal and so we are told he walks through walls and breaches locked doors or otherwise comes and goes without anyone seeing how. The gospel writers want us to understand that Jesus was not merely "raised" in our minds and hearts (though we will certainly find him there!); neither is the risen Jesus disembodied spirit or a naked immortal soul. Finally, he has not relinquished his humanity. God has raised the human Jesus to a new bodily life which is both earthly and heavenly.

Only in Luke’s version of the story is Ascension spoken of directly or treated as a separate event occurring 40 days after the resurrection. (Mark's Gospel originally ended short of the Ascension story.) Here Luke shifts our attention from Jesus’ continuing earthly but mysterious presence to his having been “taken up bodily into heaven”. But how can this be? We might be forgiven for thinking that surely the Star Trek story is easier to believe than this fantastical and incredible tale on which we base our lives! So, what is Luke doing here? What are we really celebrating on this feast?

What Luke and his original readers knew was that in the Scriptures, "Heaven” is a careful Semitic way of speaking about God’s own self --- just as the presence of clouds in today’s reading from Acts refers to the mysteriousness of God’s presence. Heaven is not a remote location in space one can locate with the proper astrometric instruments and coordinates; nor are unbelieving cosmonauts and hard-nosed empiricists the only ones to make such a mistake. After all, as we hear today, even the disciples need to have their attention drawn away from searching the skies and brought back to earth where Jesus will truly be found! Heaven refers to God’s own life shared with others.


Luke is telling the story in a way which helps us see that in Christ God has not only conquered death, but (he) has made room for humanity itself (and in fact, for all of creation) within (his) own Divine life. Christ is the “first fruits” of this new way of existing where heaven (Divine Life) and earth (created life) now interpenetrate one another. God is present in our world of space and time now in a way he could not have been apart from Jesus’ openness and responsiveness (what the Scriptures call his “obedience”), and Jesus is present in a way he could not be without existing in God. Jesus’ own ministry among us continues as more and more, Jesus draws us each and all into that same Divine life in the power of the Holy Spirit of the Father and Son.


St John uses the puzzling language of mutual indwelling to describe this reality: "The Father is in me and I am in him" . . ." we know that we abide in him and he is in us." When theologians in both Western and Eastern churches speak of this whole dynamic, their summary is paradoxical and shocking: [[God became human so that humans might become gods]]. And as one contemporary Bible scholar puts the matter, “We who are baptized into Christ's death are citizens of heaven colonizing the earth.” As such, we are also called on to develop the eyes of faith that allow us to see this new world as it is shot through with the promise of fullness. Some of us experienced what this means just this week.

Three years ago, in a visit to my parish, Bro Mickey McGrath, osfs, gave us a virtual tour of his Camden ‘hood by sharing the work he had drawn and painted from Holy Week onward during his own sheltering in place. Many of us got a chance to see through his eyes, that is, through the eyes of faith and love. What Bro Mickey showed us was not an idealized Camden without violence, poverty, suffering or struggle; those were all present. But through his eyes we saw the greenhouse cathedral of a neighborhood garden, the communion lines  and eucharistic Presence of the community food pantry, the way of the cross of a crippled man as he limped up the street, a broken and bold statue of Mary standing as a symbol of perseverance and hope despite everything, and another more contemporary version made even more beautiful by a prostitute's gift of a single flower. And everywhere reality that could have been accurately drawn in harsh tones of pain and struggle were more accurately shown awash with life, beauty, and hope splashed in colors of brilliant orange, and purple, and gold, and green --- the colors of life, royalty, holiness, newness and potential. 

Today’s Feast is not so much about the departure or absence of Jesus as it is his new transfigured, universal, and even cosmic presence which in turn transforms everything it touches with the life of God. The world we live in is not the one that existed before Jesus’ death, and resurrection. Heaven and earth now interpenetrate one another in a way which may sound suspiciously to some like bad science fiction. We know its truth, however, whenever we can see this New Creation with the eyes of faith and love --- that is, whenever we can see ourselves and the world around us with the very eyes of God. It is the only way we will become disciples ourselves --- or truly make disciples of all nations.