ASCENSION OF THE LORD

 

ASCENSION OF THE LORD – YEAR B

 

A DIFFERENT WAY OF BEING NEAR

 

Introduction

Following the entry of Jesus into the glory of the Father has anything on earth changed? Outwardly nothing. The lives of people continue like they were before: sowing, reaping, engaging in trade, building homes, traveling, grieving, and partying. Even the apostles did not receive any reduction in life’s dramas or anxieties as experienced by other people. However, something incredibly new did happen: a new light was being projected onto human life itself.

On a foggy day, when the sun suddenly appears, the mountains, the sea, the fields, the trees of the forest, the scent of the flowers, the songs of the birds remain the same, but the way of seeing or perceiving them changes.

This happens to anyone who is enlightened by faith in Jesus ascended into heaven: he sees the world with new eyes. Everything makes sense, nothing saddens; nothing remains to scare him.

In addition to seeing the futility of life with its miseries and misguided persons, the Lord who builds his reign is now seen. An example of this completely new perspective can be found in the way we consider the years of life. We all know, and maybe we smile at, octogenarians who envy the energy of young people. They seem ashamed of their age. Well, it is because they turn their gaze to the past and not on the future. The truth of the Ascension reverses this perspective. As the years’ pass, the Christian becomes more satisfied because they see the day of their definitive encounter with Christ coming soon. They are happy to have lived, and do not envy the young but look at them with tenderness.

 

To internalize the message, we repeat:

“The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing to the future glory that will be the revealed in us.”

 

First Reading: Acts 1:1-11 

On the Mount of Olives, the crusaders built a small octagonal sanctuary. The Muslims converted it into a mosque in the year 1200. I explained to pilgrims with whom I was traveling that this little structure today has a roof, but it was originally uncovered to commemorate the Ascension of Jesus into heaven. A light-hearted person of the group commented: “It had no roof because otherwise, as Jesus ascended, he would have hit his head.” Another pilgrim objected to this irreverent joke, but others considered it an opportunity to make an in-depth study of the meaning of this text of Acts.

At first glance, the story of the Ascension flows smoothly but, when all the details are considered, one begins to feel a certain unease. After all, it seems rather unlikely that Jesus left us like an astronaut who detaches himself from the ground, rises to the sky, and disappears beyond the clouds. Clearly, there are difficulties we meet in trying to explain certain elements of the different accounts of the Ascension.

At the end of his Gospel, Luke—the author of Acts—says that the Risen Lord led his disciples to Bethany: “And as he blessed them, he withdrew and was taken to heaven. They worshiped him and then returned to Jerusalem full of joy” (Lk 24:50-53). Forget the odd remark about them being “full of joy” (for who among us is happy when a friend departs?), and apparent disagreements on the location (Bethany is a little off the beaten track with respect to the Mount of Olives). But perhaps what surprises us most is discrepancies about the date: according to Luke 24, the Ascension takes place on the same day as Easter, while in the Acts it was forty days later (Acts 1:3). It is surprising that the same author gives two conflicting accounts of the same event.

If we take as true the second version (one of the forty days), the question immediately arises: What did Jesus do during those forty days? On Calvary, had he not promised to the thief: Today you will be with me in paradise? Why didn’t he go there at once?

These difficulties are enough to warn us: perhaps Luke’s intention was not to inform us about where, how, and when Jesus went up to heaven. Perhaps (indeed, surely) his concern is elsewhere: he wants to respond to problems and resolve doubts that have arisen in his community. He wants to enlighten the Christians of his time on the ineffable mystery of Easter. For this reason, as an artist of the pen, he composes a page of theology using a literary genre and images familiar to his contemporaries. This requires that we understand the language he is using.

Even during the lifetime of Jesus, the anticipation of the arrival of the Kingdom of God was very vivid. Apocalyptic writers announced it as imminent. They expected a flood of purifying fire from heaven, the resurrection of the righteous, and the beginning of a new world. Even in the minds of some disciples, an atmosphere of excitement was evident and it was fueled by some expressions of Jesus that were easily misunderstood: “You will not have passed through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes” (Mt 10:23).

With the death of the Master, however, all hopes were dashed: the two disciples on the road to Emmaus said it all: “We had hoped that he would redeem Israel” (Lk 24:21).

But the resurrection reawakens expectations: the conviction of an imminent return of Christ spreads among the disciples. Some fanatics based themselves on alleged revelations and began even to announce the date. The invocation “Maranatha,” (Rev 22:20) – “Come, Lord Jesus” – is repeated in all the communities.

However, years pass and the Lord does not come. Many begin to doubt: “What has become of his promised coming? Since our fathers in faith died, everything goes on as it was from the beginning of the world”(2 Pet 3:4).

Luke writes in this situation of crisis of faltering faith. He realizes that a misunderstanding is the source of the bitter disappointment of Christians: the resurrection of Jesus marked just the beginning of the Kingdom of God; it was definitely not the end of the story.

The construction of the new world has just begun. It would require a long time and a lot of effort on the part of the disciples.

How was Luke correct the false expectations? He introduces a dialogue between Jesus and the apostles on the first page of the book of the Acts.

Let us consider the question that they propose: When will the Kingdom of God come? (v. 6). It is the same question that, at the end of the first century, all Christians wanted to direct to the Master. And the response of the Risen One is directed more to the members of Luke’s community than to the Twelve: “It is not for you to know the time and the steps the Father has fixed by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, even to the ends of the earth” (v. 7-8).

The scene of the Ascension follows this dialogue (vv. 9-11).

Jesus and the disciples were seated at the table (Acts 1:4) in the house. Why didn’t they say goodbye to each other there at the supper? Why did they need to go to the Mount of Olives? And there are other details: the cloud, the eyes turned skyward, the two men in white robes, are they the facts in the story or literary devices?

In the Old Testament, there is a remarkably similar story. It is the “snatching” of Elijah (2 Kgs 2:9-15).

One day, this great prophet finds himself near the Jordan River with his disciple Elisha. He, learning that his teacher is going to leave him, dares to ask him as an inheritance two-thirds of his spirit. Elijah promises him, but only on one condition: if you see me when I am taken from you. Suddenly, while Elisha looks heavenwards, a chariot with a mare of fire snatched up Elijah in a whirlwind. From that moment, Elisha received the spirit of the master and was able to continue his mission. The book of Kings tells of the works of Elisha, and they follow the tradition of Elijah.

It is easy to identify those prophetic elements in common with the narrative in Acts, and it leads directly to this conclusion: Luke made use of the grand and solemn scenario of Elijah’s snatching to convey a reality that could not be verified with the senses nor adequately described with words, in a word, the Passover of Jesus, his resurrection and his entry into the glory of the Father.

In the Old Testament, the cloud indicates the presence of God in a certain place (Ex 13:22). Luke uses it to affirm that Jesus, the defeated One, the stone the builders rejected, the One whom the enemies would have wished to remain forever a prisoner of death, was instead welcomed by God and proclaimed as “Lord”. The two men dressed in white are the same that appear at the tomb on Easter Day (Lk 24:4). The white color represents, according to biblical symbolism, the word of God. The words put into the mouths of the two men are an explanation given by God to the events of Easter: Jesus, the faithful servant, put to death by men, is glorified. Their words are true (being two, they are credible witnesses).

Finally: the gaze turned skyward. Like Elisha, the apostles and the Christians of Luke’s time are also contemplating the Master who distances himself. Their gaze indicates the hope of his immediate return, the desire that, after a short interval, he will resume the interrupted work. But the voice from the sky clarifies: he will not bring it to completion, but you will. You will do it; you will be qualified to do so because you have spent with him forty days (in the language of Judaism it was the time needed for the preparation of the disciple) and you have received the Spirit.

For the apostles, as for Elisha, the image of the “rapture of the master” means the passage of handover.

Already, within Luke’s lifetime, there were Christians who “looked to the sky,” that is, those who regarded religion as an escape, rather than an incentive to undertake measures to improve the lives of people. God says to them: Stop looking at the sky; you need to prove the authenticity of your faith on earth. Jesus will come back, yes, but that hope should not be a reason for alienating yourselves from the problems of this world. “Happy are those servants whom the master finds wide-awake when he comes” (Lk 12:37).

Did Jesus then ascend into heaven?

Of course, he did. To say that he ascended to heaven is equivalent to saying: he is risen, glorified and has entered into the glory of God. His body, it is true, was placed in the tomb, but God had no need of the atoms of his body in order to give him his “resurrected body” that Paul calls his “spiritual body” (1 Cor 15:35-50).

Forty days after Easter no displacement in space and no “rapture” from the Mount of Olives toward heaven occurred. The Ascension took place in the instant of death, even though the disciples began to understand and to believe only from the “third day.”

The story of Luke is a page of theology, not the report of a columnist. In this page, he wants to tell us that Jesus was the first to go through the “veil of the temple” that separated the world of people from that of God. He showed how everything that happens on earth: successes, mishaps, injustice, suffering, and even the more absurd facts, such as an ignominious death, are not beyond God’s plan.

The Ascension of Jesus is all that. So, we should not be surprised that it was greeted with great joy by the apostles (Lk 24:52).

 

Second Reading: Ephesians 1:17-23

Paul asks God for wisdom for his Christians. This is not human wisdom but the insight to understand the mystery of the Church. He asks God to enlighten their eyes and hearts so that they may understand how great is the hope to which they were called.

The first reading called on Christians not to neglect the concrete duties of this world. The second complete this thought and urges Christians not to forget that their life is not limited to the horizons of this world. It is because, even though they are engaged in the activities of this life, they are always waiting for Christ’s return to take them permanently to himself.

 

Gospel: Mark 16:15-20

In the life of every individual, there are decisive stages, delicate moments of transition in which we perceive that the future is at stake. These are moments of crisis, sometimes of distressing uncertainty, of inner confusion, and often also of pain, as happens at every birth.

In church history, there have been momentous events that have marked turning points, but none has been as decisive as that in which the change of Jesus’ presence occurred. Before Easter, he lived physically in this world and the disciples were led by him step by step. After Easter, he continued to be present, but not so perceptible to the senses. The disciples felt lonely and hesitant. They had the feeling of being in front of a not well-defined mission and one that appeared to be certainly beyond their strength.

How to carry on the work of the Master? Was it not presumptuous to deem themselves capable of beginning a new world? It was hard to adjust to the idea that such an undertaking was entrusted to a group of poor Galilean fishermen.

Decisive moments in life demand greater clarity. Most notably, Jesus’ passage from a tangible presence to an invisible one required a particularly intense light, and the evangelists have tried to clarify it in various ways.

The light that is offered to us today comes from the last page of the Mark’s Gospel.

The passage opens with a great scene (vv. 15-16). The Risen Christ appears to the Eleven and indicates the mission they are called upon to perform: “Go out to the whole world and proclaim the Good News to all creation.”

It is surprising that the good news should be announced: “to every creature.” The expression certainly means “every person,” but also contains an invitation to open their horizons and to contemplate salvation as embracing the whole universe. Every creature, in fact, is the subject of God’s affectionate fondness (Prov 8:22-31).

Because of sin, the human being – the human family – has often lived in a wrong relationship with creation.

Driven by insatiable covetousness and greed, people misunderstood or betrayed God’s intentions. Instead of acting as a gardener and caretaker of the world, they became despots and predators. They did not use science and technology in line with the creator’s plan but in a reckless and arbitrary way. Man manipulated nature at will, bending it to his own selfish interests or perverse designs. By doing so, they reintroduced chaos.

For this reason—as Paul grasped the situation—all creatures are waiting for the beneficial effects of salvation: “All creation is eagerly expecting the birth, in glory, of the children of God…. For even the created world will be freed from this fate of death” (Rom 8:19-21).

The proclamation of the Gospel frees man from the delusion of being the absolute master of creation. It makes him realize that he has no right to impose his will on nature and to seek to establish a different relationship, not only with others but also with the environment, plants, and animals.

Salvation and condemnation depend on the acceptance or rejection of the message of the Gospel and baptism (v. 16).

The Church, with the means of salvation that she offers, cannot be culpably ignored. In the Word of God it announces, it is Christ who reveals Himself; in administering the sacraments, it is Christ who, through sensible and effective signs, communicates his life. To refuse these gifts amounts to enacting one’s downfall, which is not eternal damnation, but a foolish choice, made today, to exclude oneself from God’s plan.

Matthew recalls the last words of the Risen Lord: “I am with you always, even to the end of the world” (Mt 28:20). Jesus did not leave us a souvenir photo, a memorial statue, a relic. He planned to stay forever alongside the disciples, though no longer in a way perceptible to the senses.

In the second part of the passage (vv. 17-18) Mark lists five signs through which the Risen Christ manifests his presence: “Those who have believed: in my name, they will cast out demons and speak new languages; they will pick up snakes and if they drink anything poisonous, they will be unharmed; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will be healed.”

The most immediate impression is that of very unusual wonders: they seem strange and difficult to see because, even if they exist, they are extremely rare. Nevertheless, it is clear that Jesus promised signs that would continuously validate the proclamation of the Gospel.

He always resolutely opposed the request for demonstrative signs (Lk 11:29-32), and yet, at the end of the second century A.D., the apologetic concept of the miraculous prevailed and we too inherited it. If we are not careful, we run the risk of misunderstanding the meaning of the words of the Risen Lord.

It is true that the preaching of the Gospel is accompanied by even extraordinary signs, but these do not constitute evidence. It is a proclamation, the good news. They proclaim that salvation is in place and that, despite all opposition, the Kingdom of God will reach its fullness. The apostles realized then that they were not to compete with magicians and soothsayers, but to bear witness that the Risen Lord continued to operate in the world.

The extraordinary signs listed by Mark should be read and interpreted in the light of biblical symbolism. The prophets used these and other images to describe the messianic times and the new world. It is enough to remember the famous prophecy: “The wolf will dwell with the lamb, the leopard will rest beside the kid. …By the cobra’s den, the infant will play” (Is 11:6-8). Isaiah did not intend to announce a phenomenal change of the aggressive and dangerous nature of animals. He promised the end of the struggles and enmities that exist in the world. Through the image of the animals he foretold that, in the Kingdom of God, there would be no place for hostility, rivalry, or aggression between people.

The words of the Risen Lord must be interpreted in the light of this biblical language.

The demons represent all the forces of death found in the human person. They lead him to make choices contrary to the Gospel: pride, greed for money, hatred, selfish impulses. These demons are not defeated with exorcisms, but with the power of the word of Christ, and with the Holy Spirit. It is the proclamation of the gospel that drives them away. The Eucharist and the other sacraments communicate the divine power that allows the faithful to resist their attacks. If these forces of death are now being overcome, it means that the Risen Christ is alive and present in the world.

The “new languages” refer to an ecstatic phenomenon, extremely popular in the early church. In a different way, the miracle must be repeated in our Christian communities: humanity needs a whole new language; insult, arrogance, violence has already been heard too often. People now want to hear about love, forgiveness, free and unconditional service, and the disciples of Christ must be able to speak to them.

The snakes and the poisons are often referred to in the Bible as symbols of the enemies of humans and of life. It is not easy to immediately identify them because they are so sly and devious, and even deadly poisons may seem only intoxicating drinks. The faithful person is invited not to fear snakes (Ps 91:13), and the disciples must not be afraid. The strength they received from Christ, in fact, makes them invulnerable, “You see, I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the Enemy so that nothing will harm you” (Lk 10:19).

The healings are the sign that Jesus also often gave. If the Word of the Gospel is accompanied by inexplicable and miraculous recoveries, it will be apparent to all that the Christian community is the bearer of a divine power capable of recreating the world.

In verse 19, the theme of today’s feast is summed up: “So then, after speaking to them, the Lord Jesus was taken up into heaven and took his place at the right hand of God.”

It is a theological statement. In fact, God has a neither right nor left hand in heaven, and he does not sit. The image recalls the rituals of ancient oriental courts where the subjects who had shown heroic fidelity to their lords were summoned to the palace. In front of all the dignitaries, they were invited by the king to sit on his right. The words of the psalmist allude to a new king, on the day of his enthronement: “Sit at my right hand till I make your foes your footstool” (Ps 110:1). The gospel phrase refers to this use.

The evangelist wants to tell us that Jesus, the One who was defeated according to people, has been proclaimed by God, “his faithful servant.” He did not establish the long-awaited earthly dominion of the people of Israel. He did not subdue their enemies with the sword, but ushered in the Kingdom of God, initiating a whole new world, by offering his own life and shedding his own blood. Because of his faithfulness, God exalted him(Phil 2:6-11), caused him to ascend to heaven (Eph 4:8-9), and has subjected all creation to him (1 Cor 15:27). Using an image of the enthronement of the Messiah, the authors of the New Testament repeat: God “made him sit at his right hand” (1 Pet 3:18-22).

The concluding sentence of Mark’s Gospel: “The Eleven went forth and preached everywhere, while theLord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that accompanied it” (v. 20) testifies to the belief that the first disciples were not alone, but always had the Lord Jesus beside them and He worked miracles of salvation through them.